Ritz Bites

Year in Review: 2007

This past year turned out to be more of an armchair dining year for us, with fewer meals out and more cooked at home. The list of restaurants I ate at grew smaller, while the To Do list expanded by leaps and bounds.  We also managed to accomplish way more on the road than when in Los Angeles.

Here are personal eat and drink highlights from 2007.

HOME:

We treated bunch of friends to dinners at our house, and hosted more parties than I remember throwing over the course of a year. I've really learned to embrace partial catering.

Mozza Mozza Mozza!

All'Angelo needs to address the menu's seasonal needs. Yet I'm still thankful for the several delicious, hearty meals we loved, and I'd eat a plate of the octopus carpaccio (pictured at right) anytime.

A healthy amount of child-friendly (a phrase I NEVER thought I'd use) meals at local favorites Campanile, Sushi Ike, and to a certain extent, Hungry Cat.

Impromptu dinner at Bin 8945 after watching the "Betty" premiere East/West Lounge. Easy in, easy out, no fuss, great wines.

Surprisingly tasty crab salad with avocados and mangoes at the Governor's Ball following the Emmys. How they ever manage to pull off that dinner for 6,000 people astounds me. Sadly, so few of those people actually eat anyway.

New flavors and textures at Jitlada, along with the bonus of remarkably generous childcare from charismatic owner Jazz.

It took me almost eight months to get it together, but girls' night out at the historiclicious Edison was just what the shrink ordered.

Georgia and Anthony's New Orleans food night with gumbo and fried cat fish made me covet a home deep fryer (at left).

A couple stops at Golden Deli, which isn't nearly enough. Same goes for Clementine.

Succulent, crisp duck at Lu Din Gee.

Making good on maintaining our Christmas Eve tradition of drinks at the lobby of Shutters on the Beach, followed by Persian food gluttony at Javan. I've lost count of how many years we've done this for.

AWAY:

Squeezing in as much great food during trips to New York as possible.

Two lunches at Lupa. Not new or groundbreaking, but you certainly can't go wrong there. The flash-fried Brussels sprouts with lemon (at left) is reason #2 to have a deep fryer at home.

Schmancy dinners at Daniel and Le Bernardin. Even if Michelin is proving itself to not be relevant to the U.S., I can now check those off the NYC list of starred restaurants.

Stomach-expanding mofongo and roasty chicken from La Nueva España on 207th Street. It's also one of the only places that delivers to my sister's building.

Touring Finger Lakes region wineries. Now we're evangelists for white wines from Hermann J. Wiemer, Dr. Konstantin Frank, and Standing Stone Vineyards.

Hanging with my cousin David, an old school Collective member, at the Moosewood Cafe in Ithaca.

Eating organic and sustainable lunch foods at the cleverly designed Olivia (above), located in Ezra Cornell's train depot on East Hill. Perfect for making my Ithaca-reared, Dwell-reading spouse and our architect friend right at home again.

Other home runs in the Ithaca area: fried catfish at the Stone Cat Cafe on Seneca Lake and trips to the Ithaca Farmers Market.

Finding superb coffee outside of our kitchen or thank-god-it-finally-opened-in-Silver-Lake Intelligentsia: Gimme! Coffee cappuccino (above), and sampling the goods at Northampton and the even more charming Amherst Coffee (plus wine bar!).

Perfect service, extreme comfort, and much-better-than-average hotel food at the politico-infested Hay-Adams in D.C., where they're lucky I didn't abscond with some pieces of their Wedgewood china (pictured left).

Lots of heavy food in Nashville, as well as a more "refined" meal at the elegant Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel. Many Tennessean deals -- presumably both sneaky and legit -- have gone down beneath the vaulted ceiling and in the incredible black and aqua-tiled Art Deco men's room. I've since cribbed their method of adding roasted butternut squash chunks to arugula salad.

Most importantly, here's hoping for a swift end and satisfactory resolution to The Strike. People have careers to get on with, bills to pay, and eating out to do. In the meantime, our first dinner out in '08 will be Campanile on a Wednesday.

On the loss of civilized meals out

That old standard favorite pastime of Eating Out at New and Exciting Places has slowed down.  This change is painfully obvious to anyone who reads my blog. 

The past few months have been more about some home cooking, though that's really hard to do now, too.  We keep Spanish hours because that's when I'm freed up; start cooking after 8, eat at 10.  We'll see if I can stick to a new goal of 1-2 new recipes per week. 

Lunch today was even more trying, so at the moment I can't help but switch to Mommy Blog venting mode.  At super cute trendo Maison Midi, I shoveled down huge bites of Niçoise salad into my mouth between chasing James down La Brea, trying to prevent him from stepping in dog shit and eating cigarette butts.  If I picked him up, he'd throw a fit.  (Yet he gave his papa a much easier time of it.  Hmm, something else going on there.) 

See, he will NOT sit in a high chair.  I love the guy, but a part of me feels jealous pangs when I see wee ones just chilling in their designated seats and politely eating as I chase my kid and keep him away from hustling waiters and bussers.  (He's good at finding dangerous kitchen entrances.)  Plus I'm mad at myself for not getting him used to it earlier because I always assumed if any baby would be cool in restaurants, it would me MINE, dammit.   

This could be Major Parenting Failure, or maybe there's no training to be done -- personality and strong agenda might be asserting themselves, so be it.  (I also feel like the local blog world is whizzing by and I'm missing out on all the fun.  But that's exclusively my fault.)  At least for the time being, until he learns that sitting at a table and sharing food with people is an integral part of civilized life.  I think it's safe to say we won't be stuck in this exhausting routine when he hits double digits.  Right?

NYT Op-Ed Page: Sushi Sunday

With so many other hot button news topics in play now, it was surprising to see not one, but two sushi-themed op-ed pieces in Sunday's New York Times. 

Apparently we need to try more stuff other than ubiquitous tuna.  Fortunately in these parts that's an easy order, and I already try to minimize my tuna intake.  But does this mean no more occasional toro treats? 

Next, I wonder if the leagues of paranoid preggos out there (myself formerly among them), will take Steven A. Shaw's lesson to heart:

You can be sure that, were there documented complications resulting from pregnant women eating sushi in Japan, there would be swift government intervention. Yet, in the United States, it is taboo for a pregnant woman to eat raw fish....But this isn’t because scientific research has concluded that unborn children have been damaged by sushi...There are several reasons, however, that these fears are unfounded.

OK, good points all, especially "pregnancy should be a time of joy, not stress."  But I doubt the author's point about how the ban insults Japanese culture will carry much influence.  Millions of culturally insensitive food faux pas happen every second.  If that were a serious issue, bye bye California roll, as well as a good chunk of Nobu's menu.

Before there was Pinkberry...

Every culture's popular paper products -- notebooks and doodle pads and such -- speak volumes about its character and quirks. 

The intriguing art supply mecca Vertecchi has always been one of my favorite stores in Rome.  It was a place I visited frequently and came away with many of the shop's signature blue and green striped bags. 

Vertecchi had a large stock of curious notebooks, the covers of which depicted fruits and veggies re-imagined in unnatural colors -- and in English, of course.  These were an instant hit with us American students, and over the years I bought a lot of the books in different sizes and colors for myself and as gifts.

Given the current profusion of Pinkberries, Red Mangoes and the like imported via Asia, it appears mismatching fruits and colors has a special cache in various foreign cultures. 

So hear that, Pinkberry?  In one respect, Italy might already be primed for your arrival.  Yet doubtful that overpriced tart fluff can ever usurp their treasured national frozen dessert, so best to keep the expansion plan in check over there.   

Lightly dressed on top at 5th and 57th: BG

Because I treat department stores like museums, my baby has so far seen more Marni than Matisse, more Prada than Picasso, and more Lanvin than Léger.  Our time in New York offered a not-entirely-yet-balanced mix of the above (thanks, Poiret at the Met!).  But I'll gradually right that wrong by kicking up the fine art museum-going a notch to make gawking at unattainable art more edifying, I promise.   

One afternoon, we braved the posses of Tory Burch flats-wearin' bitches and charged into the ultimate temple, the best venue to enjoy fashion as a spectator and sociological sport.  And like museums, you can eat there, too.

Bergdorf's now boasts its own Kelly Wearstler-designed dining room where the old ladies are pleased as punch that some things they liked decades ago are  hip again, and the young 'uns can get their (kind of) ironic retro crusty groove on. 

BG on the seventh floor is my least favorite of the KWID spaces.  I'd much rather look out at the views of Central Park laid out like a carpet below than the Disney Haunted Mansion-like echo chamber creating chairs, or the Sputnik chandeliers (yawn), or the speckled mirrors that my grandparents and all their friends had in their Dallas houses circa 1970.  And Chinoiserie-inspired roundels emblazoned on the window valences echo that fucking Tory B. medallion. But I gotta hand it to her -- Kelly has a uncannily prescient sense of what the socialites want.

OK, so get to the food already, you groan.  I've procrastinated because there's not a whole lot to say.  Eileen and I both went for salads, since, well, that's the obvious choice with this Wexler-treated crowd.  Our keesters were occupying some pricey Manhattan real estate, which means the "rent" is steep, and we overpaid for a piles of iceberg and romaine lettuce, deviled eggs, ham slices, and a couple types of not terribly special cheeses.  Yet at $25, the BG salad is among the cheapest -- I mean most modest -- priced items in the whole store.   Plus it comes with a couple of complimentary macaroons with your check. 

Should you like your salads very light on the dressing, there's no need to make a special request at BG.  Those dishes are as bare as a stick thin figure in a Cavalli gown, which is why they can offer potentially super fattening thousand island on the Gotham salad.  But if you want your stuff a little heavier or fuller they can accommodate, just like those other Upper East Side professionals.

Public Service Announcements

Just a couple small items since posting has been somewhat light lately.

Those pork chops I found in the freezer from late last year look like they have a little freezer burn, so are they safe?  Well, I can simply check here to find out.  I'm glad to have found this handy dandy FDA refrigerator and freezer food storage guidelines.

And FYI for the many NPR geeks out there: the Kitchen Sisters will be at the Hammer on the 29th.

Another F Word

I've been too fixated on fashion these past few weeks during the fall '07 shows to look for new recipes, which, as I've previously mentioned, I desperately need to do.  This obsessing could be escapism to allay minor boredom, and I can also pass off hours spent on Style.com, NY Mag, and the Times in the cause of helping my husband with "research" for work. 

But since most of my clothes still don't fit me -- elastic remains my good friend -- and I instead rely on Louboutin wedges and Ferragamo boots to prop up my spirits in the body image department, I'm not sure this pastime is the best form of fantasy self-soothing.  Yet for whatever reason, it feels better and more fun than thumbing through all the unread food mags that keep stacking up, even if I might feel sort of worse for the, er, wear.  And fortunately I'm mostly limited to buying cheap shit at H&M and American Apparel, since it doesn't make sense for me to buy many nice clothes now.

I've never dieted and lord, I really hope not to any time soon.  If it ever comes down to it (how much longer will it take me to get back to my pre-pregnancy size already? ... she asks calmly without any trace of anxiety), I can take solace in my genuine love of salad.  Big love.  And not just salad that has lots of fried gooey stuff and has few nutritional benefits, although that's all good, too.  I usually just take plain greens with my signature lemon thyme dressing.

Niçoise salad is one of the easier, tastier, healthy-ish meals I've been able to come up with.  (It's appearance is even irresistible to Baby J, as evidenced by his hand in the photo.)  Because of all that mercury-in-tuna business I can't eat it all the time, but I finally had the idea to make it at home.  Niçoise is like the food equivalent of assembling a great simple outfit.  Unfortunately I couldn't accessorize with anchovies or olives, but haricots verts, mache, seared ahi, and roasted new potatoes with a clean sherry vinaigrette pulled it off.  What would Lucky say?

This dish is at least one thing I can deftly put together while the contents of my wardrobe have to wait a little longer.