Zabar's and Fairway Market
80th/74th Street and Broadway
From the description in my guide book, it sounded like these two "super" markets were rather like Hediard in Paris, or the food area of Harrod's in London. Namely, snobby wildly overpriced gougathons, replete with $5000 wines and $41 truffle hamburger mix.
As I walked into one or the other (I don't remember now), I realized I couldn't have been more wrong. This was no upper-brow Hediard, suffocated by its own superiority.
What it was, in reality, was a microcosm of the wonderful markets that make Parisian food so rewarding, tinged with a bit of Notting Hill market's mad bohemia. Over in produce, Hispanic restaurant employees were tussling with wealthy upper west side women for Italian parsley, each stuffing prodigous amounts almost angrily into their respective bags. The man behind the bread counter kept yelling at the shoppers. I saw a couple of people fighting over the day's last rugelach, people almost brutally trying to jump the queue for meats despite it all being with numbers, and one old lady in a wheelchair desperately trying to be noticed when her turn for fish came around. People were running, and dashing, and bowling each other over, all the while buying and buying and buying.
Amid the chaos was a bevy of terrific products. Spicy sausage, aged beef, vegetables as good as I've seen in America save during my brief trip to California, all sorts of foreign and interesting bits and pieces, and great looking bread. Even the prepared foods looked good; I can now see how people in New York manage without doing much cooking. No, it's still not Paris, I have to say. I bet any little town in Italy would be better. But for America, both these stores are damned good, and have a lot to teach those ridiculous "organic" outlets which have now so heavily esconsed themselves in the dreariness of suburban American. Hail to Zabar's and Fairway! Praise them with great praise!
(Ten points for catching the reference that sentence makes!)
1/21/2003
1/20/2003
Lombardi's
32 Spring Street, Little Italy
New York, NY
Lombardi's is apparently one of the most famous pizza joints in New York. It certainly looks like one, with tightly spaced tables spread through a narrow and somewhat labrythine restaurant.
I probably don't need to say that I went there with some anticipation. Ever since I visited their apparent competitors in the poorly named New Haven, I've been wondering whether the real New York deal was any better.
I emerged both disappointed and satisfied. The latter because of the wonderful fresh mozarrella spread sparingly over the pizza, and because of the crispiness of the crust and the friendly chewy crackle as I guzzled down piece after piece.
I was disappointed, however, by the actual taste of the crust. Yes, it was well fermented, and so the pungency of a good crust was there without question. The problem, however, was salt. I don't know whether I got a bad batch,or the second string dough maker was on the job that night, but the crust was salty to distraction. I've never had crust like this, I thought, as I hurled cups of water down my throat. Actually, now that I think of it, I've had crust like this once; early on in my pizza making experiments, I once got frustrated with my insufficiently salted efforts and unceremoniously dumped a whole lot of the stuff into the dough. That pizza tasted exactly like this one.
So, salt aside, Lombardi's makes an excellent pizza. Hopefully I just caught an off night.
32 Spring Street, Little Italy
New York, NY
Lombardi's is apparently one of the most famous pizza joints in New York. It certainly looks like one, with tightly spaced tables spread through a narrow and somewhat labrythine restaurant.
I probably don't need to say that I went there with some anticipation. Ever since I visited their apparent competitors in the poorly named New Haven, I've been wondering whether the real New York deal was any better.
I emerged both disappointed and satisfied. The latter because of the wonderful fresh mozarrella spread sparingly over the pizza, and because of the crispiness of the crust and the friendly chewy crackle as I guzzled down piece after piece.
I was disappointed, however, by the actual taste of the crust. Yes, it was well fermented, and so the pungency of a good crust was there without question. The problem, however, was salt. I don't know whether I got a bad batch,or the second string dough maker was on the job that night, but the crust was salty to distraction. I've never had crust like this, I thought, as I hurled cups of water down my throat. Actually, now that I think of it, I've had crust like this once; early on in my pizza making experiments, I once got frustrated with my insufficiently salted efforts and unceremoniously dumped a whole lot of the stuff into the dough. That pizza tasted exactly like this one.
So, salt aside, Lombardi's makes an excellent pizza. Hopefully I just caught an off night.
Artie's Deli
Artie's is a charming little deli on the Upper West Side, like everything else I've listed here. The service was excellent and friendly, while the sour and dill pickles and coleslaw brought to accompany my sandwich were also excellent examples of their kind.
I think, though, I made a wrong turn on the sandwich choice. It wasn't Artie's fault. The corned beef arrived piled almost impossibily high on what turned out to be excellent rye bread. But what I've discovered, finally, is that I don't particularly like corned beef. Not that I have any problem with it, or won't eat it or anything, but it just isn't that good, both tasteless and fatty at the same time.
Having been disappointed by the famous beef, I've now taken a quick detour to Foodtv to find out exactly what the stuff is. According to them, it'sbrisket cured in a brine. Frankly, I'd rather have the brisket sans brine any day.
As I say, however, the non-tastiness of corned beef shouldn't be counted against the restaurant. All the soups and other sandwiches looked lovely. They had a great selection of desserts as well. But in the end I don't think I would make a special trip to eat there. A deli, it seems to me is a neighborhood kind of thing, and I bet there is the equal of Artie's spread all throughout New York.
Artie's is a charming little deli on the Upper West Side, like everything else I've listed here. The service was excellent and friendly, while the sour and dill pickles and coleslaw brought to accompany my sandwich were also excellent examples of their kind.
I think, though, I made a wrong turn on the sandwich choice. It wasn't Artie's fault. The corned beef arrived piled almost impossibily high on what turned out to be excellent rye bread. But what I've discovered, finally, is that I don't particularly like corned beef. Not that I have any problem with it, or won't eat it or anything, but it just isn't that good, both tasteless and fatty at the same time.
Having been disappointed by the famous beef, I've now taken a quick detour to Foodtv to find out exactly what the stuff is. According to them, it'sbrisket cured in a brine. Frankly, I'd rather have the brisket sans brine any day.
As I say, however, the non-tastiness of corned beef shouldn't be counted against the restaurant. All the soups and other sandwiches looked lovely. They had a great selection of desserts as well. But in the end I don't think I would make a special trip to eat there. A deli, it seems to me is a neighborhood kind of thing, and I bet there is the equal of Artie's spread all throughout New York.
H & H Bagels
UPDATE: This branch of H & H is apparently connected to Seinfeld as well.
I'm used to Bagel shops as full service sandwich dispensers/cafes, given my experiences in DC and around my law school. Therefore, when I walked into H & H and saw nothing but a counter, a kettle, and a giant oven frantically being fed with newly boiled bagels, I was a little surprised.
I was even more surprised when my first order was rejected by the cashier. Looking as if I had justed asked for newborn rather then a blueberry bagel, he stammered the terrible news; "Those aren't hot!". Properly chastized, I had him bring me some raisin bagels, which he assured me were appropriately fresh. And they were terrific.
My only note is to bring something less then a $20 bill. The frazzled employees looked a little annoyed with me the next morning. But hey, I got my bagel.
UPDATE: This branch of H & H is apparently connected to Seinfeld as well.
I'm used to Bagel shops as full service sandwich dispensers/cafes, given my experiences in DC and around my law school. Therefore, when I walked into H & H and saw nothing but a counter, a kettle, and a giant oven frantically being fed with newly boiled bagels, I was a little surprised.
I was even more surprised when my first order was rejected by the cashier. Looking as if I had justed asked for newborn rather then a blueberry bagel, he stammered the terrible news; "Those aren't hot!". Properly chastized, I had him bring me some raisin bagels, which he assured me were appropriately fresh. And they were terrific.
My only note is to bring something less then a $20 bill. The frazzled employees looked a little annoyed with me the next morning. But hey, I got my bagel.
Gray's Papaya
72nd Street & Broadway
New York, NY
As I walked closer to Gray's Papaya, I noticed their motto emblazoned across the top of the restaurant. "Nature's own revitalizer!". Given that Gray's sells only hot dogs, I was initially confused.
But no! Gray's sells more then hotdogs. Within a small, cramped, seatless restaurant, filled with entirely incomprehensible wait staff (I eluded difficulty by answering "yes" to every query, and got roughly what I wanted) and equally strange customers, the good owners of Gray's also sell a range of exotic fruit juices, the leader among them being their apparently famous papaya juice drink. In reality, for just $2.40 you get two beautifully charred and juicy dogs plus a generous serving of the juice. Given the impossibility of finding anything non-toxic to eat in Manhattan for that price, combined with the excellence of Gray's product, including the juice, I recommend a quick stop next time you're in town. As an added bonus, the location I tried was only blocks from the Lincoln Center; pre-opera hot dogs, anyone?
72nd Street & Broadway
New York, NY
As I walked closer to Gray's Papaya, I noticed their motto emblazoned across the top of the restaurant. "Nature's own revitalizer!". Given that Gray's sells only hot dogs, I was initially confused.
But no! Gray's sells more then hotdogs. Within a small, cramped, seatless restaurant, filled with entirely incomprehensible wait staff (I eluded difficulty by answering "yes" to every query, and got roughly what I wanted) and equally strange customers, the good owners of Gray's also sell a range of exotic fruit juices, the leader among them being their apparently famous papaya juice drink. In reality, for just $2.40 you get two beautifully charred and juicy dogs plus a generous serving of the juice. Given the impossibility of finding anything non-toxic to eat in Manhattan for that price, combined with the excellence of Gray's product, including the juice, I recommend a quick stop next time you're in town. As an added bonus, the location I tried was only blocks from the Lincoln Center; pre-opera hot dogs, anyone?
Lupa
147 Thompson Street,
New York, NY
Lupa is meant to be super-chef Mario Batali’s downmarket foil to the ultra sophisticated Babbo. After having had lunch there, all I can say is that Luppa must have a serious problem with false modesty.
I can, at least, guarantee that the cheese course wouldn’t be out of place in any big deal restaurant. Particularly excellent was a deeply flavourful soft cheese that screamed “goat” in loud, guttural, delicious tones. For those uncomfortable with the luxurious taste of goat, Batali also offers a subtle locally made ricotta, drizzled with an excellent fragrant honey.
Lupa also boasts an in house charcuterie, for lack of the Italian word. I only had the salumi, so I can’t speak to the entire selection, but I rather suspect all the rest is just as good as the juicy robustly spiced and generously fatted sausage.
There was more sausage to come in my main course, for which I chose an understated gnocchi with fennel sausage. The small ricotto and semolina dumpling were both creamy and chewy, substantial enough to stand up to the spicy sauce. Swirling some of the kitchen’s excellent crunchy loaf and foccaccia around in the remaining sauce was only the icing on the cake.
Indeed, as far as I could tell, the only time Lupa fails is when it tries to bring in actual Italian ingredients, and particularly in the cheese department. A sheep and cow’s milk Italian brie look-alike was, just like every other cheese imported to this country, almost tasteless outside the rind. I suspect, however, that the parmesan or the pecorino would have been better, given the looser restrictions on aged cheeses. And I should probably castigate them about the price; it’s an expensive lunch if you want a couple of courses and wine. On the other hand, I ate quite a lot, and the food is truly excellent.
So, Lupa isn’t perfect. Very few things are. Save up your money and go.
147 Thompson Street,
New York, NY
Lupa is meant to be super-chef Mario Batali’s downmarket foil to the ultra sophisticated Babbo. After having had lunch there, all I can say is that Luppa must have a serious problem with false modesty.
I can, at least, guarantee that the cheese course wouldn’t be out of place in any big deal restaurant. Particularly excellent was a deeply flavourful soft cheese that screamed “goat” in loud, guttural, delicious tones. For those uncomfortable with the luxurious taste of goat, Batali also offers a subtle locally made ricotta, drizzled with an excellent fragrant honey.
Lupa also boasts an in house charcuterie, for lack of the Italian word. I only had the salumi, so I can’t speak to the entire selection, but I rather suspect all the rest is just as good as the juicy robustly spiced and generously fatted sausage.
There was more sausage to come in my main course, for which I chose an understated gnocchi with fennel sausage. The small ricotto and semolina dumpling were both creamy and chewy, substantial enough to stand up to the spicy sauce. Swirling some of the kitchen’s excellent crunchy loaf and foccaccia around in the remaining sauce was only the icing on the cake.
Indeed, as far as I could tell, the only time Lupa fails is when it tries to bring in actual Italian ingredients, and particularly in the cheese department. A sheep and cow’s milk Italian brie look-alike was, just like every other cheese imported to this country, almost tasteless outside the rind. I suspect, however, that the parmesan or the pecorino would have been better, given the looser restrictions on aged cheeses. And I should probably castigate them about the price; it’s an expensive lunch if you want a couple of courses and wine. On the other hand, I ate quite a lot, and the food is truly excellent.
So, Lupa isn’t perfect. Very few things are. Save up your money and go.
1/03/2003
12/31/2002
Very nice and simple idea. Boil some tortellini. Add it to a sauce of lemon juice and cream, with lots of parmesan. The real recipe calls for eggs in the sauce, so it's more like a carbonara with cream, but I didn't think that made any sense. Either have lemony carbonara or lemony fettucini (essentially), but no combining, please.
12/21/2002
I'm working on the chicken dish below right now. I thought I would right quickly about something. I was reading in a newspaper food supplement about the pet foible of a famous food critic. Normally, of course, he would turn his nose up at anything below olestra caviar. But, the column went on to point out, he had a tragic soft spot for sliced bread topped with tinned asparagus and some cheddar, broiled under a grill.
It's not as funny in my case, given that I'm a short of money law student and not a famous food critic. But my version of this kind of cheap comfort food is the Mcdonald's hotcake. I don't know why I'm obsessed by them, but they're terrific. You should give them a go, and remember to ask for some extra syrup, since they suck it up like three delicious sponges.
It's not as funny in my case, given that I'm a short of money law student and not a famous food critic. But my version of this kind of cheap comfort food is the Mcdonald's hotcake. I don't know why I'm obsessed by them, but they're terrific. You should give them a go, and remember to ask for some extra syrup, since they suck it up like three delicious sponges.
12/19/2002
Devil Chicken (polla a la diablo)- I just saw this on Molto Mario. It looks great.
So, season a chicken with pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Fry it up to brown it in a big pan. Throw in oven.
Halfway through cooking time, slap on a paste of mustard, pepper, olive oil, and pepper flakes. Bakes some more.
Prepare a chili oil by putting red chilis in oil, heating, cooling, then straining. When chicken is done, put chicken in a plate, cut up. Pour chili oil on top. Then make a pan sauce with juices, sherry, and parsley. Pour that on top too. Boom. Spice crusted chicken.
So, season a chicken with pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Fry it up to brown it in a big pan. Throw in oven.
Halfway through cooking time, slap on a paste of mustard, pepper, olive oil, and pepper flakes. Bakes some more.
Prepare a chili oil by putting red chilis in oil, heating, cooling, then straining. When chicken is done, put chicken in a plate, cut up. Pour chili oil on top. Then make a pan sauce with juices, sherry, and parsley. Pour that on top too. Boom. Spice crusted chicken.
Devil Chicken (polla a la diablo)- I just saw this on Molto Mario. It looks great.
So, season a chicken with pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Fry it up to brown it in a big pan. Throw in oven.
Halfway through cooking time, slap on a paste of mustard, pepper, olive oil, and pepper flakes. Bakes some more.
Prepare a chili oil by putting red chilis in oil, heating, cooling, then straining. When chicken is done, put chicken in a plate, cut up. Pour chili oil on top. Then make a pan sauce with juices, sherry, and parsley. Pour that on top too. Boom. Spice crusted chicken.
So, season a chicken with pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Fry it up to brown it in a big pan. Throw in oven.
Halfway through cooking time, slap on a paste of mustard, pepper, olive oil, and pepper flakes. Bakes some more.
Prepare a chili oil by putting red chilis in oil, heating, cooling, then straining. When chicken is done, put chicken in a plate, cut up. Pour chili oil on top. Then make a pan sauce with juices, sherry, and parsley. Pour that on top too. Boom. Spice crusted chicken.
Lemon Tart: This worked, so it's cool.
1 cup flour, 1/2 cup butter, egg, 1 cup sugar almostish. milk. (I'm not sure about that egg. When I made a smaller portion, the egg was too much, I think, and it didn't totally come together. Still was nice to eat, though.
Put all this together, bake blind, definitely with rice in dish.
100 g sugar, 6 tb butter, 5 lemons + zest, 3 eggs. Mix it all up, hey it's lemon curd. Throw in baked shells, and bake for 12 minutes or so. This is great stuff. Almost like a french tarte au citron.
1 cup flour, 1/2 cup butter, egg, 1 cup sugar almostish. milk. (I'm not sure about that egg. When I made a smaller portion, the egg was too much, I think, and it didn't totally come together. Still was nice to eat, though.
Put all this together, bake blind, definitely with rice in dish.
100 g sugar, 6 tb butter, 5 lemons + zest, 3 eggs. Mix it all up, hey it's lemon curd. Throw in baked shells, and bake for 12 minutes or so. This is great stuff. Almost like a french tarte au citron.
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