Carnegie Deli Discovery

Discoveries of note today: the perfect time for breakfast at the Carnegie Deli? 9 am on Saturday.

Why? Because not only is there no line outside but there’s hardly anyone inside. My friend and I were gobsmacked. Pleased not to have to wait in the line o’ myth and legend, mind you. It is, after all, summer – a season we both agreed we would happily vote off the island. But gobsmacked all the same. It really didn’t start filling up until we were leaving.

The most shocking part of the whole outing was watching a family of four walk in, with Dad carrying a tray of Dunkin Donuts coffee. We assumed they must be lost or looking for a restroom. No! They asked for a table! They walked into the Carnegie with coffee from not only somewhere else but from Dunkin Donuts and proceeded to sit down to eat. The LOOKS they got from the staff! Lord, oh lord. Had they been grapes, they would have shriveled to raisins. But – the customer is always right even when they are deeply, tragically and outstandingly wrong. The staff served them – an air of pity (tinged slightly with disapproval) in their eyes.

I decided he must be from out of town.

Your Condiment Or Mine? A Sea Dog’s Tale

It occurred to me recently, as I was contemplating the many “gourmet” dinners I had sat through on board the SS Noordam, that by far my favourite meal had been lunch.

By which I mean a hot dog.

Oh yes, I had been served lobster tails, Chateaubriand, escargot, Grand Marnier souffles, and the like.  But while all the above were competently prepared (if not with any true flair), none had given the me sheer pleasure of my daily lunchtime hot dog, with the ketchup, the mustard, and the onions.

Now the hot dog itself was nothing special; and nor should it have been.  A hot dog is, after all, simply a soft-cooked sausage in an equally soft-cooked bun. But the point of the hot dog is not what it brings to you; but rather, what you bring to it.

It’s really rather a personal thing.

Are you, like me, a ketchup and mustard and onions man?  If so, should the onions be raw (like mine- dusted liberally with salt), or fried to a dark tangle?  My mustard simply must be the vibrantly yellow American sort, but  do your tastes run more to the mellow warmth of German mustard, or the outright heat of the English variety? Does ketchup have no place on your personal dog?

And what of pickles and the like? How do you “relish” your dog?  I’m no fan of the sweet pickle myself, but I do absolutely adore a hefty chunk of a properly sour dill pickle on the side, on which to crunch and suck after the main course, as it were. But I’m well aware that there are those who love a sweet pickle relish, or a corn relish, or even to have their dog smothered in chili con carne.

While those are not to my taste, I share with all those who love the aformentioned relishes the sheer pleasure of not only ingesting your favourite food, but also to have it smeared deliriously over most of your face.  It is, after all, all but impossible to eat a hot dog (relish or no) in a gracious manner, and thus it should be.  The more personal a given meal becomes, the less delicacy it requires, at least when it comes to table manners.  There are no discreetly coy wipings of the corners of one’s mouth when it comes to a hot dog; only the gaping of one’s maw, and then the not-so-secretly pleased swiping at one’s top to dislodge the heftly dribble of whatever relish took your fancy.  Followed, but of course, by the slow, lingering licking of said relish off your fingers.

So perhaps it’s no surprise that of all the meals I was presented with on board this somewhat pretentious ship, it was none of the entrees that were meant to impress me that did the trick, but rather the ones wherein I got to impress myself.

By just how much I love my own taste buds. Which, high falutin’ ship or no, is just how it should be.

Happy National Pie Day!

pie2.jpgHappy National Pie Day, everyone!

Listen, I love pie. I have such fond memories of pies gone by and always feel extra competent in the kitchen when I produce a first-class apple cobbler. I love pie as much as the next person. But I couldn’t help wondering — do we need a ‘National Pie Day’? Whose idea was this anyway?

I went to find out.

In the course of my investigation, I came across the American Pie Council (APC). They claim to be “the only organization committed to preserving America’s pie heritage and promoting American’s love affair with pies.” As I can find no other organization making that same claim, I shall take them at their word. But what do they do, you ask, to preserve and promote the pie love? They host the National Pie Championships put out a quarterly newsletter called Pie Times to help Pie lovers keep up to date on what’s new in the “pie world.” And finally – yes, I have found the responsible party – they designated and registered National Pie Day.

OK, so I knew who was at the bottom of this whole National Pie Day but is there enough to really justify a special day? The APC (and co-sponsor Crisco) thinks so. Or rather, the people who took the APC/Crisco survey in 2004 thought so. What was learned?

  • The average American eats six slices of pie a year. I am below average! While I suppose in these weight conscious days, I should be pleased but I am too busy being shocked. All those people eat more pie than me!
  • One out of four Americans prefer apple pie, followed by pumpkin or sweet potato (17 percent), chocolate (14 percent), lemon meringue (11 percent) and cherry (10 percent). I refuse to believe more people prefer sweet potato pie to chocolate. I just won’t believe it.
  • Nearly twice as many people prefer their pie unadorned as those who like it à la mode, with either ice cream or whipped cream topping. I go both ways on this. Obviously, savory pies – unadorned. Sweet pies – well, it depends on the pie. I can’t commit.
  • About three of four Americans prefer homemade pie over pie from a bakery, restaurant or supermarket. Hmmm . . . I wonder if the percentage would be the same if they ONLY ask the ones who cook aforementioned homemade pie.

pie.jpg To help those looking for a way to mark this auspicious day, they have recommendations including but not limited to sharing pie with those around you, throwing a pie-centric party or joining the Pie of the Month Club.

Wanna make a night of it? Try a pie-centric eatery. Or order a pie since more and more outstanding places all over the country will ship their delights – fresh! – to your door

Seek out the pie-making stars and dessert-o-holics in your neck of the woods and let us know what they are doing for National Pie Day.

Of course, the best way to celebrate National Pie Day would be – make a pie. Here are some places to check out for inspiration or new pie recipes:

The pie possibilities are endless (as a simple search in google proved). Pies are popular, come in endless varieties, serve up well in almost any course and for any occasion. My quest at an end, I have concluded that yes, when it comes to the ‘pie of it all.’ there really is more than enough reason to have National Pie Day.

Delectable. Delicious. Dumplings

dumplings.jpgEvery once in a while, I have a topic that fits into both Fabulous Foodie and Greater Gotham. On such occasions, I feel efficient, accomplished and just a wee bit like I am getting away with something sneaky. This is one of those topics.

I read a lot of food columns (partly for Fab Foodie purposes and partly because the next best thing to eating it, is reading about it) and The Boston Globe got me thinking about dumplings. See, they too read Smitten Kitchen (which I swoon over regularly) and the author of such, Deb Perelman is a regular contributor to NPR and wrote a piece for them last month entitled Beyond Potstickers: A Dumpling Lover’s Confession.

Well, not unlike the Boston folks, I too felt the need to confess. I have never met a dumpling I didn’t like. Oh sure, I’ve met some that gave me pause for a moment but never for more than that. They are culinary gifts – only with these you get to eat the wrapping. They can be sweet or savory, large or small, sticky, salty, solid or slippery. Dumplings can be anything and from anywhere.

Having said that, I have a favorite dumpling. Luckily for me, my darling dumpling is close at hand here in New York (see, there is a Gotham connection after all) It is the xiao long bao (soup dumplings). In New York, there are two sources for first class XLBs – Goodie’s on Chatham Sq in Chinatown and Joe’s Shanghai’s (in midtown, downtown and in Elmhurst) . My favorite ones are the pork ones. I think of them as inside out won ton soup. Perfect little packets of joy complete with a ritual for maximum enjoyment (“grab, lift, glaze, nibble, slurp”). The crab variety is just as tasty.

I first encountered these delectable dumplings about 10 years ago when I was working downtown, not too far from Chinatown. A couple of my co-workers (technology guys always know where to find the best food) dragged me off to Goody’s (as it was then) – a place that they admitted lacked atmosphere or any real sense of service. “Never fear,” I was assured. “It will be worth it.

And it was. For that I shall always thank them.

Actually, you know – I’m feeling rather peckish a the moment. Hmmm . . .

Tofu Cheesecake, not a recipe

I had a fascinating conversation at a swanky restaurant last night. I was attending a celebratory dinner at a very hip media-friendly place called “The Hospital,” and wound up sat next to an admirably committed young woman who has become a strict vegan for largely political reasons.

Veganism is a food movement that I find difficult to comprehend, but only really because I’m a committed carnivore who wouldn’t sniff at eating their own relative should we be caught in any sort of “Donner Party” situation. We all draw our own moral lines, food-wise, and mine runs along the “I shall never willingly wear faux leather so I feel it absolutely morally correct to eat beef” skein. So while I could possibly commit to a lifetime of vegetarianism, I never could with veganism, because I could never give up milk. Cheese I can live without, but not that late night glass of milk with my cookies or peanut butter. I do, however, admire anyone who can not only have strict epicurean morals, but stick by them too.

So I learned a great deal last night. Not about lentils or nut cutlets or anything like that, but about the vegan question of “old or new.” By which I mean, coming up with whole new ways of employing the ingredients at your moral disposal balanced against the desire to simulate dishes that quite frankly demand ingredients best described as forbidden.

To which end, we got onto the topic of “Silken Tofu Cheesecake.” After I’d made my usual snarky comments about tofu being readily available on the end of your average HB2 pencil, she allowed that, while said “cheesecake” was perfectly pleasant, it was not quite pleasurable enough to make her forget the dairy-based original.

So I asked, what is the point of simulating food you now feel morally compelled not to eat? Surely, if you’re giving up dairy products, shouldn’t you also give up all that goes with them? Isn’t it a bit like ordering the Veggie Burger from McDonald’s? Shouldn’t you be re-thinking things entirely? Moving on to non-pastures new? I didn’t mean it in a Catholic sense, as if veganism was some sort of hair shirt to wear to the table, but rather in the sense that if one took that path, one might perhaps leave their previous meal-time definitions behind entirely. Find new kinds of dessert that didn’t invite comparisons to her culinary past.

To which she responded, most reasonably, “Why?”

She allowed that Silken Tofu Cheesecake was a less than satisfying substitute for the real thing, but added that it was but one dessert, one dish, one recipe. And that giving up actual Cheesecake was not one of the greatest challenges in her life to date. Also, she just likes the sheer idea of cheesecake, so is quite prepared to eat the cheesecake she gets.

To put words in her mouth, you may not be able to go home again, but the town is still there and you can usually live with the changes, especially if it’s just for a visit. And she’s not living a life of self-denial, but rather a life of positive commitment, one in which she’s allowed peanut butter.

She certainly didn’t win me over to the cause of veganism, but that wasn’t her aim. She was simply hoping that the kitchen might offer her just a bit more than the inevitable “Roasted Mediterranean Vegetables Tossed On a Plate With A Dash Of Balsamic Vinegar,” which was of course, well, fruitless.

Which is when I really started learning. Because I thought, “Why can’t one of the vegetarian options on the menu for each course, be a vegan option?” Especially at the kind of high-end, celeb-savvy joint we were frequenting last night. Is it really so difficult for trained cooks to come up with a starter, main course, or dessert that does not involve animal products in any way? Must it always be roasted vegetables and or/pasta or polenta with lashings of cream and eggs and cheese?

Not that I’m suggesting they offer the Tofu Cheesecake. That still sounds perfectly foul to me.

The Charcoal Roundup

I’ve attended not one but two barbecues over the weekend and been exposed to far too much charcoal . Even without the choking smoke, two barbecues in the space of twenty four hours is a bit much for anybody, let alone when one is full of family and the other is full of Uber Homos.

Now you might not think that your average Uber would enjoy a barbie. A Barbie, yes, but not a barbie. You might think that all that smoke, and fire, and eating of food with your hands, might put them right off. There you would be quite wrong. Continue reading “The Charcoal Roundup”