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

MangiaMore: zucchini LASAGNA

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Because I am currently a lady of leisure—school’s out for summer— I have been given a charge, a responsibility, a duty: I must make dinner for my family at least once a week (emphasis on “at least”).  I am not going to say it is an honor, or even a pleasure, but it sure will be an adventure, experience, experiment, whatever you want to call it.

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If you can’t tell by my blog and the foods that I make, I would call myself more of a baker than a cook. They say baking is a science, whereas cooking comes from passion and the soul. When baking a chocolate cake or whipping up some zucchini bread or even rolling out some bomb sugar cookies, there is an element of precision to the creation of these confections. Too much of something and not enough of something else can cause your dessert to fall flat. Must. Measure. Everything. But don’t get me wrong; there is plenty of room for creativity in baking. There is combining of flavors and playing with textures, the gamut.

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Cooking, at times, has looser guidelines—a pinch of salt, a clove of garlic, pepper to taste, a pad of butter. It is about how the sauce smells when it is simmering on the stovetop, or how the eggs feel when scrambled in butter, or the give of the meat swimming in its juices. A little bit of this, and a touch of that, and some more of this, one more taste. Cooking might just take that intuition that I lack. If intuition is a part of human biology, then perhaps, cooking is science too.

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To start my weekly endeavors, I found a tasty-looking Tasty recipe on Buzzfeed for some zucchini lasagna. I watched the Tasty (not to be confused with tasty) video over and over. As my sister would say, “my body was ready.” I was ready to make this noodle-less lasagna, but I was more ready to eat it.

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Luckily, despite a stiff neck and a self-diagnosed strained thoracolumbar fascia, the recipe was pretty easy to bring to fruition. I measured everything, down to the salt, pepper, and olive oil but added a tiny flair of my own to the dish: red pepper flakes and mozzarella cheese. I was willing to sacrifice noodles, but not mozzarella cheese (nota bene: not all lasagna must have pasta, but all lasagna must have mozzarella). Using a vegetable peeler to make the zoodles was a chore, but delightfully destructive. Even though mozzarella was lacking from the recipe, I was happy to see that the ricotta was flavored with goodies rather than plopped right from the plastic container. A little salt goes a long way. Definitely.

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The results: a happy Mommie (because she did not have to cook), satisfied bellies, and one week of my cooking penance down. Stay tuned for my weekly, my at least weekly installments of dinner dishes.

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6.30.16

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LONDON calling: The Pantechnicon Rooms

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This is just a wee bit more than your typical pub. So we had a wee bit more than your typical lunch at Pantechnicon. With a pitcher of summery Pimms on deck, it was a veritable feast in celebration of our arrival in London after many years away and old friends.

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The starters were mixed: some stronger than others, some memorable and some lost. Four miniscule Scottish scallops were surrounded by wisps of fennel and peas and dribbles of chorizo dressing. It had a little bit of everything from spicy fatty chorizo to sweet earthy peas and tender scallops, just not enough. Fried calamari came in a basket, crisp, hot and fresh with just enough cooling lime dressing and spicy chilli sauce. It was typical, familiar and tasty. The sharing plate trio was much less appealing— the short rib pastrami was dry and burnt, the pulled pork croquette was flavorless, and the pork ribs were dull.

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What possessed me to get a salad is beyond me. Maybe it was that crispy duck egg that hypnotized me. Sometimes salads are your favorite, but this “salad” was missing what makes a salad. The base of the “salad” was a thick bed of chewy, stiff, dark wild rice, which was mostly inedible in my book. The crispy duck egg, figs, zucchini and almonds, however, were tasty on their own. There was so much crunch from the egg and a creaminess from its soft yolky center that added richness to the merlot dressing and summery ingredients. Good thing my friend and sister are much lighter eaters than I am.

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Both mains were hearty, not extremely creative nor memorable, but solid and satiating. The flanks of pork rib eye were tender and juicy, topped with a chunky apple chutney to complete the classic pair. The sweetness of the round sweet potato contrasted the earthy mushy peas, highlighting the salt of the meat and long crunchy chicarron. Even the spicy baby chicken was well executed but just chicken with a fat scoop of mashed potatoes. The bone marrow and Madeira jus and mushroom sauces added oomph but were unnecessary in the end.

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Yes, lunch was necessary and nourishing, but it was just a backdrop for memories, laughter, catching up and the essential Pimms. It was more than just a meal; it was the start of a great trip with great friends.

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