that WAS summer: North End Grill

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It’s another season now. But it was fun while it lasted— while the strawberries were red and ripe, sweet and juicy; the tomatoes plump with little give; and the green zucchinis were bright, mellow, and plentiful. That was summer.

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It’s fall now, but I can still taste the late summer at North End Grill.

I can feel the gritty bread in between my teeth and the sandy chunks of sea salt sprinkled by my own hand in the sweet and creamy butter.

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I can feel the effervescent bubbles tingle and pop on my tongue as I sipped sparkling wine, and the slinky flesh of oysters glide with obvious luxury passed my lips.

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I can smell the hot fresh garlic painted on thin crust studded with plump little clams, gems of succulent meat not nearly attached to the crisp foundation, and the fresh aroma of decadent butter and fresh herbs, green moments.

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I can taste the acidity and oil emulsified with summer tomatoes, smeared on just thick enough bread, toasted till cratered and crunchy. Savory small smoky anchovies languish on the textured toast and tomato, and peppered fragrant rosemary.

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I can taste the fatty rounds of trotter torchon, speckled pink and white, marbled and  indulgent, crowned with dressed greens and a string of aioli.

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I can smell the ribbons of bright zucchini draped in fat flakes of pecorino cheese, earthy, salty, dry, rounded off with studs of anchovies, pretty summer on a plate, herbs and all.

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I can hear the unmistakable crunch of French fries made crisp in duck fat, creating a solid layer of refined crust and a slender soft interior.

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I can see the vivid red strawberries, arranged like an origami flower, layered on top of a sweet cookie shell, with a smooth dollop of strawberry cream, and fresh rounds of savory basil gel.

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I can see the cityscape from the high-above roof garden, a vista of Battery Park, and lines of trimmed and plucked produce, already in use at North End Grill below.

I miss summer, but I can fall for fall, too.

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10.8.16

NYCRW: Park Avenue Summer

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Summer loving happened so fast. A prix fixe lunch at Park Avenue Summer for New York City Restaurant Week moved more quickly than desired on the sticky summer’s day, contrary to the languished sighs of summer and the current theme of the space.

There was hardly time to soak in all of the curated details of the restaurant space, which are meant to transport the diner to the summer season: bright yellow walls emulating sunshine, foliage appearing wilted with oppressive summer humidity, and white casts of turtle shells.  Like the menu, with each season the space is transformed to represent the appropriate time of year, and at this moment Park Avenue Summer felt like the dog days of summer, hot and sticky, sweltering with a feeling of lusty temptation.

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Cornbread, bright like the walls of the eatery, radiated fresh warmth and summer corn sweetness. The puffy cornbread bites initially looked like Madeleines, all ruffles and butter, but there was a hint of savory heightened by the spicy brick-red marbled compound butter. The cornbread spoke of lazy days at the end of summer, a familiar feeling even in the City’s unique heat.

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A sole orb of bursting burrata rested on top of a smear of salsa verde, which was bright but not quite right. The creamy cheese oozed from the firm outer skin, melting into the thick tangy salsa verde, colliding with the summer sweetness of peaches and moments of savory basil. Crunchy panzanella added a jolt to reality, bringing a firm texture to the appetizer, like the return trip from a mixed vacation.

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Despite their slightly crunchy exterior, the gnocchi were soft and heavy on the inside, the potato flavor pronounced. Black truffles were shaved on the spot, falling, forming soft peaks, another layer to the appetizer.  Creamy corn with studs of fresh corn surrounded potato pillows. The moat was sweet with an underlying zing that was bright relief from the decadence. This appetizer was a balancing act of light and heavy, sweet and tart, a mix of sun and clouds like an early August day.

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The branzino dish was architectural as two slender steaks of fish were stacked on one another and crispy skin maintained structure. Whimsical disks of firm summer squash echoed fat dots of saffron aioli, a contrast of density and flavors as well. A shallow pool of stewed vegetable ratatouille gave warmth without an expected heaviness. It was an odd but accurate encapsulation of summer.

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Again, corn came to play, but this time with four succulent scallops and tiny pickled peppers. The corn felt raw and tasted green, much like the pretty peppers toasty and slit lengthwise. The dish was a mix of shapes like modern art, while there was more toothy bite from the golden corn and little heat from thin wheels of peppers.  Salt clung to the sweet scallops, like warmth when the sun sets and lingers, mixing with the melodies of the other seasonal ingredients.

Cool and refreshing like the blushing pink frozé, the peach basil sorbet dessert, tickled sweet and savory notes. The basil made the disappointing honey poached peaches sweeter and more refined. However, the poached peaches were reminiscent of those in canned pie filling— saccharine to excess with the constitution of the summer stone fruit compromised.

The fruit tart was pretty as a picture, a collection of summer’s berry bounty. Deep velvet red cherries, striking strawberries, royal blueberries, and gem-like raspberries were looked painted, like glossy jewels on top of the thick short crust and tangy passion-fruit flavors. It tasted like summer should.

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Like the seasons, the dishes and pace were imbalanced. There was not time for constants and stability, subtly or depth. Flavors were intense and at times abrasive much like the celebrated season. The meal mimicked unpredictable and contradictory summer days, with harsh, hot, sun casting a golden glow in one instant, and glowering clouds clinging heavy but ushering cool refreshing raindrops.

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8.1.16

MangiaMore: greek yogurt BANANA bread

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I know, it’s hot. It’s been hot, like really hot, like heat wave hot. And when it’s that hot, the oven has no business being on and working. This would just make matters worse; the kitchen sans a vent for the air conditioning would go from warm to sweltering and intolerable.

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But there are some things that that inexplicable heat and discomfort are worth. Sweet, moist, delicious, satiating banana bread is one of those things.

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Like people and hairstyles, bananas seem to wilt that much more quickly in excruciating heat and unbearable humidity. So, there were a few (four to be exact) bananas losing their cool, sweating on our kitchen counter. There are really only three destinations for basically brown bananas: 1. the bin 2. the freezer or 3. baked goods.

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One of the four sad bananas was subjected to destination two and went to chill out in the freezer and wait in line for the next smoothie.  While the other three headed to option numero 3 and ended up the stars of some scrumptious Greek Yogurt Banana Bread .

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In an effort to lighten things up, my sister made this recipe from Crème de la Crumb a month (maybe… losing track of time is a symptom of no-work-summer-vacation syndrome) ago. And with these perfectly imperfect bananas, I decided to make the Greek yogurt banana bread again, despite my better judgment (it was hottt).

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But it was so utterly worth it. The texture was dense and wholesome, the perfect addictive chew. The brown bananas produced a super sweetness that felt summery and cozy at the same time.  Their intensity created a caramelized flavor that was rich and deep, lightened up by the bright and tangy Greek yogurt and the imperceptible applesauce. There was no oil or other luxuries (cough, cough, bourbon or brown butter), but this banana bread did not skimp on decadence.

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I literally wanted to eat it all, all alone, all by myself, but that seemed inappropriate. What was appropriate was plopping a dollop of plain Greek yogurt on a thick slice of this deliciousness as a very satisfying first or second breakfast, or even elevenses.

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Is it bad that I want the kitchen heat wave to continue so more bananas will go brown? More overripe bananas means more Greek yogurt banana bread :)

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7.29.16

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