I remember a time when Momofuku was just a hole in the wall--in its early days, when one could walk in and take a seat at the counter, enjoy a plate of savory pork buns and linger over a bowl of brothy noodles before returing, full and happy, to the cacophany of First Avenue. It was conveniently located (literally) around the corner from my apartment. I ate there almost daily for a few of months.
I also remember the day I walked in the door and saw Mario Batali and company seated prominently by the front window with what looked like every item on the menu splayed out before him. He was showy and boisterous and enjoying the audience that could not keep their attention away from the spectacle in bright orange Crocs. The fairy tale that was my perfect neighborhood restaurant had come to an end.
And indeed, the very next week I had to wait for a seat. I was glad for David Chang's success, but so sad that my experience of this "good thing" had come to an end.
It occured to me then that perhaps if it had been harder to find, or if it had taken more effort for the "outsiders" to enjoy the wonders of Momofuku, that my little Eden would not have been so fleeting.
Enter the Food Truck. My father called one a "Roach Coach" when I was a child, so I eschewed them into my early adulthood.
That was before I worked in the industry. Before the Vendy Awards. Before Twitter.
Consider this article from the New York Times Dining Section this past week. There is some work involved on the part of the eater to actually locate these vendors. And once you find the food, you must be willing to eat it standing up, or squatting on a sidewalk, or possibly leaning against a building. You may need to wait in the rain. Or the sweltering heat. This is not food you eat to "be seen," (yes, Mario, I'm referring to you), but food to eat because it is GOOD. The food itself is (literally) fleeting. One must pursue it.
And just because you find it once does not guarantee that it will return to the place where you left it.
Does the chase make the food taste better? Perhaps to some. But for me, good food is worth the effort, especially if it keeps the party crashers at bay.
P.S. If you happen to be in New York this weekend, the 2009 Vendy Awards are this Saturday, September 26 at Queens Museum of Art.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Do You Have Any Carrots?
A few weeks ago I was spending some time with a good friend and her family. She was revving up to return to her job as a high school teacher after a year off for maternity leave. I offered to do the menu planning, grocery shopping and cooking for the week.
While throwing together a pasta salad, it occurred to me that I had forgotten to buy a few things. So I asked my friend, "do you have any carrots?"
We rifled through the produce drawer to no avail.
"I wish I'd bought a bell pepper," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I have those in my garden!"
Earlier in the summer, she had planted a little vegetable garden, but had neglected for several weeks as she geared up for the new school year.
Without another word we slipped out the kitchen door and into her backyard.
Although the weeds had crept in and a few of the plants had gone to seed, she did indeed have a gorgeous yellow bell pepper that was picked immediately. A few sprigs of curly parsley were plucked, too.
And there were carrots, waiting politely in a row, their bushy green locks waving at us gently as if to say, "I'm still here! Pick me! Pick me!"
The one we picked gave a fight, clinging firmly to the ground. It took more than a minute of wiggling and coaxing to free it from the soil. But when it yielded, we saw why--it as split into three roots no more than two inches below its head. It looked vaguely like a molar, extracted whole. We laughed at how silly it looked, then paused for a moment, almost in wonder, at how things grow.
Returning to the kitchen, I decided not to add it to the pasta salad. A freshly picked carrot is so much sweeter than one you would buy at a grocery store. We sliced the carrot and nibbled on it.
"This is the best carrot I've ever tasted," she commented. I agreed.
While throwing together a pasta salad, it occurred to me that I had forgotten to buy a few things. So I asked my friend, "do you have any carrots?"
We rifled through the produce drawer to no avail.
"I wish I'd bought a bell pepper," I muttered under my breath.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I have those in my garden!"
Earlier in the summer, she had planted a little vegetable garden, but had neglected for several weeks as she geared up for the new school year.
Without another word we slipped out the kitchen door and into her backyard.
Although the weeds had crept in and a few of the plants had gone to seed, she did indeed have a gorgeous yellow bell pepper that was picked immediately. A few sprigs of curly parsley were plucked, too.
And there were carrots, waiting politely in a row, their bushy green locks waving at us gently as if to say, "I'm still here! Pick me! Pick me!"
The one we picked gave a fight, clinging firmly to the ground. It took more than a minute of wiggling and coaxing to free it from the soil. But when it yielded, we saw why--it as split into three roots no more than two inches below its head. It looked vaguely like a molar, extracted whole. We laughed at how silly it looked, then paused for a moment, almost in wonder, at how things grow.
Returning to the kitchen, I decided not to add it to the pasta salad. A freshly picked carrot is so much sweeter than one you would buy at a grocery store. We sliced the carrot and nibbled on it.
"This is the best carrot I've ever tasted," she commented. I agreed.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Just a Little Chocolate
Some days, you just need a little chocolate.
When I have those days, what I crave is chocolate cake. Good, dense, chocolate cake.
The problem is, I usually don't want a huge slice of cake, just a few mouthfuls. Enough to satisfy my craving.
To further complicate the issue, I don't want frosting. I don't want spongy cake. I don't want a cake from a box mix. I don't want a cookie.
What I want are these dense chocolate mini-cakes. They are small enough to fit into your mouth, but taking them in two bites extends the chocolately goodness.
The ingredients are simple, and if you keep your kitchen stocked to be ready to bake, you probably have everything you need to make these in the house right now.
This recipes makes enough to share (if you are so inclined). The batter freezes nicely, in case you want to bake a fresh batch now and another one later. They are perfect to take to a potluck, or to wrap as a hostess gift, or to offer to guests with tea or coffee.
Two Bite Chocolate Mini-Cakes
Ingredients:
100 grams (about 3/4 cup) All Purpose Flour
1 cup cocoa powder (not dutch processed)
1/2 tsp salt (non-iodized)
12 oz (3 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
3 large eggs
1 cup sugar
6 oz semi-sweet mini chocolate chips
Method:
1) Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and flour a non-stick mini-muffin pan.
2) Sift together flour, cocoa powder and salt. Set aside.
3) In a large bowl, beat eggs on medium speed. Slowly stream in sugar and continue to beat until mixture thickens and is pale in color.
4) Add about half of the dry mixture and half of the melted butter. Mix on low speed to combine. Add remaining dry mix ture and melted butter and continue mixing on low to combine. Stir in mini-chocolate chips.
5) Spoon batter into mini-muffin pans. (Batter will not expand much, so fill almost to the top).
6) Bake in pre-heated 325 degree F oven for 15-20 minutes until top of cakes is just set. (The toothpick test will not work because the mini-chocolate chips will be melted.)
7) Remove from oven and let cool 5-10 minutes. Remove cakes from pan and let cool on a rack.
Makes 36 mini cakes.
When I have those days, what I crave is chocolate cake. Good, dense, chocolate cake.
The problem is, I usually don't want a huge slice of cake, just a few mouthfuls. Enough to satisfy my craving.
To further complicate the issue, I don't want frosting. I don't want spongy cake. I don't want a cake from a box mix. I don't want a cookie.
What I want are these dense chocolate mini-cakes. They are small enough to fit into your mouth, but taking them in two bites extends the chocolately goodness.
The ingredients are simple, and if you keep your kitchen stocked to be ready to bake, you probably have everything you need to make these in the house right now.
This recipes makes enough to share (if you are so inclined). The batter freezes nicely, in case you want to bake a fresh batch now and another one later. They are perfect to take to a potluck, or to wrap as a hostess gift, or to offer to guests with tea or coffee.
Two Bite Chocolate Mini-Cakes
Ingredients:
100 grams (about 3/4 cup) All Purpose Flour
1 cup cocoa powder (not dutch processed)
1/2 tsp salt (non-iodized)
12 oz (3 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
3 large eggs
1 cup sugar
6 oz semi-sweet mini chocolate chips
Method:
1) Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and flour a non-stick mini-muffin pan.
2) Sift together flour, cocoa powder and salt. Set aside.
3) In a large bowl, beat eggs on medium speed. Slowly stream in sugar and continue to beat until mixture thickens and is pale in color.
4) Add about half of the dry mixture and half of the melted butter. Mix on low speed to combine. Add remaining dry mix ture and melted butter and continue mixing on low to combine. Stir in mini-chocolate chips.
5) Spoon batter into mini-muffin pans. (Batter will not expand much, so fill almost to the top).
6) Bake in pre-heated 325 degree F oven for 15-20 minutes until top of cakes is just set. (The toothpick test will not work because the mini-chocolate chips will be melted.)
7) Remove from oven and let cool 5-10 minutes. Remove cakes from pan and let cool on a rack.
Makes 36 mini cakes.
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