Remember Ashkara, the pita place Mark and I initially loved, then reviewed again and weren't so happy about? (Here's the old blog post.) Well, last time we were down in the LES to see a show at the Mercury Lounge, we noticed that obviously things didn't get better because Ashkara is CLOSED.
I wonder how many cases of food poisoning it took for that to happen?
Sometimes I wonder if places like that fail as a result of improper staffing (which I imagine was what happened). They open up, the food is good for awhile, they start treating their employees like crap, the good ones leave and they can only get retard clowns to run the place, or everybody stops caring, which leads to lapses in cleanliness and overall quality of food. (A quick look-up on the NYC Restaurant Inspection website says they had 22 violations as of the end of December 2009...mostly things that seem the result of general laziness.)
Regardless, we never wanted to go back again after trip number two, and apparently nobody else did either.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A Rambling Letter to My Friend Ravi, re Kombucha
My buddy Ravi asked me about my Kombucha growing practices and what all this fuss was about this thing my friends call the "Urine babby" (babby is net-speak slang for "baby") aka "Fermenting maxi pad hair tea". Clearly, the shit is so gross looking that nobody wants anything to do with it (except Dan MacAdam, who admitted to getting into kombucha after reading some of my ranting posts about it on our favorite website, gigposters.com).
I think it looks perfectly delicious
So here is my long-winded, conspiracy-fueled, stream of consiousness rant about why I like Kombucha, and also, essentially all of my feelings about nutrition in general. Enjoy.
...............................
Hi Ravi,
I look at Kombucha as kinda like Penicillin, sourdough bread, yogurt and wine/beer/kimchi all rolled into one. All of those things are revered for their healthful properties specifically arising from the fermented, moldy, bacterial, ALIVE nature of their being. Penicillin is (duh) derivative of specific molds, traditional sourdough bread is made from wild yeast that is collected naturally from the air in the environment surrounding the bakery, wine/beer...well you know how that's made, and yogurt and kimchi are both made from taking foods and letting them rot or mixing them with vinegar.
Are you bored yet?? Confused? Just wait...
Some people believe that all these things are good for you because this is what people ate thousands of years ago before the advent of processed foods, refridgeration and modern medicine and is therefore what our bodies really need to function properly. I believe that eating things that are closest to their natural form that are created by natural processes (like the bread from wild yeast thing) are inherently easier to digest and more nutritious. Of course, the FDA will never approve any of these statements because they are making so much money from the food manufacturing lobbyists that they will never say "Lucky Charms are not good for you", when obviously they are not.
I also believe that when you eat a lot of processed foods (basically anything that you don't make from scratch at home) your body stops being able to regulate itself naturally and create the proper numbers of antibodies, naturally occurring bacteria, enzymes and amino acids which are integral to the smooth functioning of the body's systems. This is why processed foods are so often fortified with vitamins (which means they had to have the nutrients put back into the food artificially). These foods are also filled with all kinds of chemicals, hormones and preservatives (so they can sit on a shelf, travel from the factory and sit on the shelf some more..ew) which I believe ends up destroying those same bacteria, enzymes, etc. I mentioned before.
But that's great for the food manufacturers, because they can just then sell you things like Activia, which is a product they make that claims to "fix" the digestive problems you have that were originally created by eating their other shitty processed foods in the first place.
Kombucha is just another one of these things that is somewhere between beer and sourdough bread (IMO). The process of the fermentation where the bacteria eat the sugar you feed them naturally creates a host of these enzymes, bacteria and amino acids you need in your body; they are all byproducts of the kombucha colony processing the sugars.
You can find a few articles contradicting some of what I say (or at least parts of the articles do) and telling you that processed foods are fine or Kombucha suspect, but I believe in my heart of hearts that this country is full of misinformed, overweight, unhealthy people because there are a bunch of assholes controlling our food supply who want to make as much profit as they can with as little nutrition involved. They have completely brainwashed us into craving foods that are wholly unhealthy and convinced us with their bullshit FDA "reports" that these foods aren't as unhealthy as we think they are.
What it comes down to is that you are what you eat, and you are what you EAT eats, so if you're pumping yourself full of filler, chemicals and antibiotics, you will end up filler, chemicals and antibiotics. I believe that decades of improper nutrition have changed the human form, created an internal evolution (for the worse), hence why so many kids are born today with all kinds of weird disorders (autism, diabetes, etc.).
I know this sounds like crazy conspiracy theory regarding "the man" but I really believe it's true. We question our government on why they go to war and how they spend our tax dollars but never, ever give the people that supply our FOOD the same kind of scrutiny. We judge our neighbors and our friends and total strangers more harshly then we do what we put in our mouths.
Yeah...so....urine babbys are the future or something. Sorry this was sooo long. It's complicated. God I hope you don't think I'm nutso.
xo
kate
I think it looks perfectly delicious
So here is my long-winded, conspiracy-fueled, stream of consiousness rant about why I like Kombucha, and also, essentially all of my feelings about nutrition in general. Enjoy.
...............................
Hi Ravi,
I look at Kombucha as kinda like Penicillin, sourdough bread, yogurt and wine/beer/kimchi all rolled into one. All of those things are revered for their healthful properties specifically arising from the fermented, moldy, bacterial, ALIVE nature of their being. Penicillin is (duh) derivative of specific molds, traditional sourdough bread is made from wild yeast that is collected naturally from the air in the environment surrounding the bakery, wine/beer...well you know how that's made, and yogurt and kimchi are both made from taking foods and letting them rot or mixing them with vinegar.
Are you bored yet?? Confused? Just wait...
Some people believe that all these things are good for you because this is what people ate thousands of years ago before the advent of processed foods, refridgeration and modern medicine and is therefore what our bodies really need to function properly. I believe that eating things that are closest to their natural form that are created by natural processes (like the bread from wild yeast thing) are inherently easier to digest and more nutritious. Of course, the FDA will never approve any of these statements because they are making so much money from the food manufacturing lobbyists that they will never say "Lucky Charms are not good for you", when obviously they are not.
I also believe that when you eat a lot of processed foods (basically anything that you don't make from scratch at home) your body stops being able to regulate itself naturally and create the proper numbers of antibodies, naturally occurring bacteria, enzymes and amino acids which are integral to the smooth functioning of the body's systems. This is why processed foods are so often fortified with vitamins (which means they had to have the nutrients put back into the food artificially). These foods are also filled with all kinds of chemicals, hormones and preservatives (so they can sit on a shelf, travel from the factory and sit on the shelf some more..ew) which I believe ends up destroying those same bacteria, enzymes, etc. I mentioned before.
But that's great for the food manufacturers, because they can just then sell you things like Activia, which is a product they make that claims to "fix" the digestive problems you have that were originally created by eating their other shitty processed foods in the first place.
Kombucha is just another one of these things that is somewhere between beer and sourdough bread (IMO). The process of the fermentation where the bacteria eat the sugar you feed them naturally creates a host of these enzymes, bacteria and amino acids you need in your body; they are all byproducts of the kombucha colony processing the sugars.
You can find a few articles contradicting some of what I say (or at least parts of the articles do) and telling you that processed foods are fine or Kombucha suspect, but I believe in my heart of hearts that this country is full of misinformed, overweight, unhealthy people because there are a bunch of assholes controlling our food supply who want to make as much profit as they can with as little nutrition involved. They have completely brainwashed us into craving foods that are wholly unhealthy and convinced us with their bullshit FDA "reports" that these foods aren't as unhealthy as we think they are.
What it comes down to is that you are what you eat, and you are what you EAT eats, so if you're pumping yourself full of filler, chemicals and antibiotics, you will end up filler, chemicals and antibiotics. I believe that decades of improper nutrition have changed the human form, created an internal evolution (for the worse), hence why so many kids are born today with all kinds of weird disorders (autism, diabetes, etc.).
I know this sounds like crazy conspiracy theory regarding "the man" but I really believe it's true. We question our government on why they go to war and how they spend our tax dollars but never, ever give the people that supply our FOOD the same kind of scrutiny. We judge our neighbors and our friends and total strangers more harshly then we do what we put in our mouths.
Yeah...so....urine babbys are the future or something.
Sorry this was sooo long. It's complicated. God I hope you don't think I'm nutso.xo
kate
Monday, June 15, 2009
Heirloom Tomatoes are delicious...
...although some people at a grocery store in Gettysburg, PA seem to think they are not the prettiest tomatoes in the bunch.
Heh.
Heh.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Day 3...sounds just like the second day but with different words
Today was a great day, feel like I'm getting some clarity. Got out of the office for the day to go and fix/rewire the security cameras in our Manhattan showroom with my co-worker William. I like learning new shit. Ate lunch with him at Dallas BBQ on 8th Ave. (no, I didn't get the ribs and yes, I ate some bread) and easily refused their GIANORMOUS GOBLET of blue pina colada that was the drink of the day and, according to our lovely server, came with both a blue plastic lei and a lollypop. Apparently the people who order alcoholic beverages regularly at Dallas BBQ are GIANORMOUS five year olds who require their drinks come in nauseatingly unnatural colors and with free toys and candy. Yeesh.
That place pretty much sucks. Well, everything meatless anyway: greasy, over/undercooked, bland. Ranch dressing is not a substitute for proper seasoning. Sorry.
You city-slickers want better BBQ, I can recommend you a handful of other places I bet are far superior, and although I've eaten at none of them, I've had enough experience with BBQ in my life to know what's good just by being there. You want BBQ? Go to the annual Big Apple BBQ in Manhattan this June 13-14th. Or visit Hill Country on 26th street where there are plenty of veggie friendly, lip smackin' side dishes and margaritas that will lay you out quicker than you can whistle Dixie.
OR, you could go to a BBQ joint owned by brainless assholes who couldn't manage a restaurant to save their lives...called the Hog Pit. Let me give you some hilarious back story here...
Once upon a time, when my co-workers and I still were based out of our office in the flower district in Manhattan (28th street), we would occasionally take advantage of the fantastic raw bar/happy hour at a restaurant on 26th street called Black Pearl. (It happens to be right across the street from Hill Country.) The oysters and clams were always fresh tasting, were only $1 each, and the drinks were always stiff and cheap. Funny thing was, I hardly ever saw anybody eating there, and had never bothered to look at their menu to see why.
Then one day, Spring called me up to tell me that she'd just seen the Black Pearl on our favorite TV show Kitchen Nightmares, but not to worry, it wasn't infested with cockroaches, just owned and managed by a bunch of inflated-ego, short-sighted morons who spent more time fighting with each other than figuring out how to run a successful business. (You can watch the whole episode at the link above, although it's split into five sections. I've given you the first, which is probably all you need to see to get my point.) The funny part was that we had noticed something different about the place the last time we were there, before the show aired but post-taping, although we couldn't quite put our fingers on what it was, other than a couple foam lobster claws on the wall and some galvanized buckets as lampshades.
Funniest part of this story is that on one of our last Fridays at work in Manhattan (before operations were relocated to our new factory in Bushwick, Brooklyn) we rallied the troops fora farewell Black Pearl happy hour and what had the place turned into since last we'd gone? A BBQ RESTAURANT. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from Hill Country, one of the best places of said food genre in the city. I'd like to reiterate myself: inflated-ego, short-sighted morons. The whole lot of ye!
That's one hell of a sad looking brisket dish there, if you ask me.
Fast forward to just now, when I was trying to make sure the Hog Pit was in fact the establishment formerly known as the Black Pearl, and stumbled across the Black Pearl's shining gem of a website. WOW. Just....wow. And they didn't even have the professional decency to disable that site. To me, you want an easy marker for douchebaggery? A giant waving red flag that says you are an incompetent, immature business owner? Well there you have it. Neatly folded, right on top of your culinary casket.
The real reason I even started this blog tonight was to share this hilarious food-centric website my friend Tim sent me called "The Gallery of Regrettable Food". It's a horrifying time machine ride back to the dawn of industrial food manufacturing, when salads were suspended in clear jello, everything was covered in mayonnaise and people ate stuff that looked like this:
Loafed and loaded.
I can't get enough of looking at all the scans of old cookbooks. Why don't more period movies incorporate the horribly off-putting cuisine of the corresponding decade? I'm pretty sure I've seen a lot of 1950's era movies where the food looked a little too delicious and modern. I'm just sayin'.
Aaagh! What is that?? Horrible space food?
That place pretty much sucks. Well, everything meatless anyway: greasy, over/undercooked, bland. Ranch dressing is not a substitute for proper seasoning. Sorry.
You city-slickers want better BBQ, I can recommend you a handful of other places I bet are far superior, and although I've eaten at none of them, I've had enough experience with BBQ in my life to know what's good just by being there. You want BBQ? Go to the annual Big Apple BBQ in Manhattan this June 13-14th. Or visit Hill Country on 26th street where there are plenty of veggie friendly, lip smackin' side dishes and margaritas that will lay you out quicker than you can whistle Dixie.
OR, you could go to a BBQ joint owned by brainless assholes who couldn't manage a restaurant to save their lives...called the Hog Pit. Let me give you some hilarious back story here...
Once upon a time, when my co-workers and I still were based out of our office in the flower district in Manhattan (28th street), we would occasionally take advantage of the fantastic raw bar/happy hour at a restaurant on 26th street called Black Pearl. (It happens to be right across the street from Hill Country.) The oysters and clams were always fresh tasting, were only $1 each, and the drinks were always stiff and cheap. Funny thing was, I hardly ever saw anybody eating there, and had never bothered to look at their menu to see why.
Then one day, Spring called me up to tell me that she'd just seen the Black Pearl on our favorite TV show Kitchen Nightmares, but not to worry, it wasn't infested with cockroaches, just owned and managed by a bunch of inflated-ego, short-sighted morons who spent more time fighting with each other than figuring out how to run a successful business. (You can watch the whole episode at the link above, although it's split into five sections. I've given you the first, which is probably all you need to see to get my point.) The funny part was that we had noticed something different about the place the last time we were there, before the show aired but post-taping, although we couldn't quite put our fingers on what it was, other than a couple foam lobster claws on the wall and some galvanized buckets as lampshades.
Funniest part of this story is that on one of our last Fridays at work in Manhattan (before operations were relocated to our new factory in Bushwick, Brooklyn) we rallied the troops fora farewell Black Pearl happy hour and what had the place turned into since last we'd gone? A BBQ RESTAURANT. RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET from Hill Country, one of the best places of said food genre in the city. I'd like to reiterate myself: inflated-ego, short-sighted morons. The whole lot of ye!
That's one hell of a sad looking brisket dish there, if you ask me.
Fast forward to just now, when I was trying to make sure the Hog Pit was in fact the establishment formerly known as the Black Pearl, and stumbled across the Black Pearl's shining gem of a website. WOW. Just....wow. And they didn't even have the professional decency to disable that site. To me, you want an easy marker for douchebaggery? A giant waving red flag that says you are an incompetent, immature business owner? Well there you have it. Neatly folded, right on top of your culinary casket.
The real reason I even started this blog tonight was to share this hilarious food-centric website my friend Tim sent me called "The Gallery of Regrettable Food". It's a horrifying time machine ride back to the dawn of industrial food manufacturing, when salads were suspended in clear jello, everything was covered in mayonnaise and people ate stuff that looked like this:
Loafed and loaded.
I can't get enough of looking at all the scans of old cookbooks. Why don't more period movies incorporate the horribly off-putting cuisine of the corresponding decade? I'm pretty sure I've seen a lot of 1950's era movies where the food looked a little too delicious and modern. I'm just sayin'.
Aaagh! What is that?? Horrible space food?
Also, here's a song. It's good. It relates to this post. Figure out how and you'll win...a pat on the back.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Day 2 - Happy Cinco de No No
Day three of my three-week sobriety diet finds us at Cinco de Mayo - the "other" holiday specifically associated with drinking large quantities of booze (St. Patrick's Day being the other). I cried at work today and ate almost an entire pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. Things are already looking bleak.
I feel like giving up booze is, somewhat shamefully, so much harder than I thought. Who knew that leaving work to go home and drink was something I looked forward to so much? If riding the New York Subway gives you time to do anything, it's think and read, hence why New York is filled with such well-read, insightful individuals. (In the last year alone I've devoured easily twenty books, including Walden by Thoreau and almost everything Tom Robbins has ever put to paper.) Since it's been cold and rainy for the last two days, I refrained from biking and have been really analyzing my relationship to booze during my commutes, in between periodically, and uncontrollably, falling asleep. I've realized that every evening on my way home I usually sit on the train debating exactly which bar I want to go to, comparing and contrasting the pros and cons of each happy hour or who is bar tending that day, OR trying to decide whether I'm in the mood to drink an entire bottle of wine or just a quarter of a bottle of tequila at home instead. If I'm biking home, it just means I am trying to figure out my route home based on what bars I want to stop at first.
This all must mean I either truly hate my job (which I don't think is true), can't figure out a way to deal with the things in life I cannot change, or have an alcohol abuse problem. I think it might be a little bit of all those depressing things. But really...aren't those the reasons we drink or do drugs or use non-substance based means for dealing with our out of control emotions? (Things like arson, road rage, auto-erotic asphyxiation, biting your fingernails, anorexia, over-eating or obsessively controlling our friends and families, to name a few, are all ways we deal when we can't. Spend some time really thinking about yourself and unless nothing ever gets to you I guarantee you can figure out what your own anxiety outlet is.)
This adventure is starting to remind me of the time I quit smoking cold-turkey, cutting down from a pack and a half a DAY (I kid you not) to nothing in one fell swoop. I threw out or gave away easily a few hundred dollars of cigarettes purchased in a pathetic moment of weakness until I finally was able to stop. The whole ordeal was exasperatingly difficult on many occasions, but I really got down to the nitty gritty reasons I was addicted to smoking and how much of a priority cigarettes were to me.
So anyway, things are gonna get interesting here, that's for sure. Spring is marking off her days of sobriety with "X"s on a calendar at work, and offered me space to do the same in a different color, so I'd have some sort of visible gauge of how far I'd come.
Enough emotional junk for now. This isn't fucking LiveJournal...it's a food blog. BRING ON THE FOOD!
Sunday was kind of a "oooh no carbs for me!" joke day. Well...wait. Ok, it wasn't a total joke. I had nothing but veggies and protein all day Sunday, and then, as mentioned, Mark and I hopped on the two-wheelers and rode over to Bensonhurst to see if L&B Spumoni Garden was really worth it's salt. Or maybe "sauce" would be more appropriate in this case. The Garden has been in the same spot since 1939 and has been featured several times on the Food Network...no surprise there. **NOTE: I refuse to put a link to the Food Network website because in this day and age, there is no reason they don't feature more vegetarian and vegan-centric cooking shows or specials. Screw you, fat, unhealthy lifestyle exacerbating, arrogant meat eaters, especially you, Bobby Flay. You must be really, really funny because your wife is sooo disproportionally hot. (ZING!)** ANYWAY, moving on...
Most people like to spend Sunday evening lazing about the house in PJs, watching movies or going out to eat at a nice restaurant with friends, maybe reading books, cooking a nice dinner or going to a museum. Mark and I, we like to ride 6 miles one way in the rain when it's 55 degrees to a place we've never been in the middle of Brooklyn where everyone is named Joe or Tony (no kidding, you should have heard them calling the tables, "JOE, party of two." "Joe C., party of two." "Tony A., party of three." "Tony R..."). Let's just say that when you read about mob hits in the newspapers these days, (albeit rarely) they all happen in Bensonhurst.
We rode alll the way from point A (our house) to point B (pizza).
Did I ever mention how much I love the rain?? *sarcasm* I think I was a cat in a former life.
The quintessential "Autographs of Famous People Who Love Our Food" wall, including most of the cast of the Sopranos, every Italian-American character actor ever...and Marie Osmond.
Just a small part of L&B's menu.
Frosty glass goodness. L&B's...doin' it right.
Between the both of us, we ordered five slices of Sicilian pizza (the square stuff) and an plate of bow ties with Vodka sauce (which delightfully included onions, mushrooms and peas). I thought for sure there was no way we'd ever fit all that in our two stomachs, but lo and behold, all we took home with us was a little container of pasta.
Now I will say this in all honesty, and with small fear of my life given that I posted that Google Map up there showing the whereabouts of our apartment: the pasta wasn't that great. Maybe I don't know much about traditional Vodka sauce, but the Vodka sauce I've had in the past had WAY less cream, way more tomato, and a heaping helpin' more flavor.
The ultra red color cast of the lighting in L&B's severely discolored my photos,
but even with color correction, it still comes out looking mega orange.
Granted, it's not like Vodka sauce is some old-world Italian heirloom recipe, but it should have tasted less like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, in my most humble opinion. The saddest part is that when Mark reheated the leftover portion the next day, the sauce separated into basically water, oil and something else of suspect nature and he found it generally unappetizing. Sorry, L&B...I'll have to try a different sauce with no cream next time, I think. (Can't go wrong with Broccoli Rabe, garlic, butter oil and fresh pasta, now can you?)
Other points of interest: the mirror-covered ceilings, which are both good for watching yourself do it and spying on what other people in the dining room are eating....
A super family-sized portion of pasta for five...and a portion of Mark's head.
"Eat up kid...you only live once!" *shakes cane*
I feel like giving up booze is, somewhat shamefully, so much harder than I thought. Who knew that leaving work to go home and drink was something I looked forward to so much? If riding the New York Subway gives you time to do anything, it's think and read, hence why New York is filled with such well-read, insightful individuals. (In the last year alone I've devoured easily twenty books, including Walden by Thoreau and almost everything Tom Robbins has ever put to paper.) Since it's been cold and rainy for the last two days, I refrained from biking and have been really analyzing my relationship to booze during my commutes, in between periodically, and uncontrollably, falling asleep. I've realized that every evening on my way home I usually sit on the train debating exactly which bar I want to go to, comparing and contrasting the pros and cons of each happy hour or who is bar tending that day, OR trying to decide whether I'm in the mood to drink an entire bottle of wine or just a quarter of a bottle of tequila at home instead. If I'm biking home, it just means I am trying to figure out my route home based on what bars I want to stop at first.
This all must mean I either truly hate my job (which I don't think is true), can't figure out a way to deal with the things in life I cannot change, or have an alcohol abuse problem. I think it might be a little bit of all those depressing things. But really...aren't those the reasons we drink or do drugs or use non-substance based means for dealing with our out of control emotions? (Things like arson, road rage, auto-erotic asphyxiation, biting your fingernails, anorexia, over-eating or obsessively controlling our friends and families, to name a few, are all ways we deal when we can't. Spend some time really thinking about yourself and unless nothing ever gets to you I guarantee you can figure out what your own anxiety outlet is.)
This adventure is starting to remind me of the time I quit smoking cold-turkey, cutting down from a pack and a half a DAY (I kid you not) to nothing in one fell swoop. I threw out or gave away easily a few hundred dollars of cigarettes purchased in a pathetic moment of weakness until I finally was able to stop. The whole ordeal was exasperatingly difficult on many occasions, but I really got down to the nitty gritty reasons I was addicted to smoking and how much of a priority cigarettes were to me.
So anyway, things are gonna get interesting here, that's for sure. Spring is marking off her days of sobriety with "X"s on a calendar at work, and offered me space to do the same in a different color, so I'd have some sort of visible gauge of how far I'd come.
Enough emotional junk for now. This isn't fucking LiveJournal...it's a food blog. BRING ON THE FOOD!
Sunday was kind of a "oooh no carbs for me!" joke day. Well...wait. Ok, it wasn't a total joke. I had nothing but veggies and protein all day Sunday, and then, as mentioned, Mark and I hopped on the two-wheelers and rode over to Bensonhurst to see if L&B Spumoni Garden was really worth it's salt. Or maybe "sauce" would be more appropriate in this case. The Garden has been in the same spot since 1939 and has been featured several times on the Food Network...no surprise there. **NOTE: I refuse to put a link to the Food Network website because in this day and age, there is no reason they don't feature more vegetarian and vegan-centric cooking shows or specials. Screw you, fat, unhealthy lifestyle exacerbating, arrogant meat eaters, especially you, Bobby Flay. You must be really, really funny because your wife is sooo disproportionally hot. (ZING!)** ANYWAY, moving on...
Most people like to spend Sunday evening lazing about the house in PJs, watching movies or going out to eat at a nice restaurant with friends, maybe reading books, cooking a nice dinner or going to a museum. Mark and I, we like to ride 6 miles one way in the rain when it's 55 degrees to a place we've never been in the middle of Brooklyn where everyone is named Joe or Tony (no kidding, you should have heard them calling the tables, "JOE, party of two." "Joe C., party of two." "Tony A., party of three." "Tony R..."). Let's just say that when you read about mob hits in the newspapers these days, (albeit rarely) they all happen in Bensonhurst.
We rode alll the way from point A (our house) to point B (pizza).
Did I ever mention how much I love the rain?? *sarcasm* I think I was a cat in a former life.
We walked up to the place and immediately the first thing that tickled my nose was the pungent, sweaty, salty smell of real parmigiano-reggiano wafing from the open pizza parlor windows. I almost would have been content just to stand outside smelling the food, rather than eating it, considering I was blatantly ignoring the promise of carbo-abstinance I'd made to myself (and God) for the next three weeks. Of course, one of the most important parts of a relationship is learning how to compromise, so Mark got us a spot on the list for a table for two and we picked up a menu to amuse us for the next twenty minutes. (It was Sunday night at 7 o'clock, what do you expect?) Salivate while you wait.
The quintessential "Autographs of Famous People Who Love Our Food" wall, including most of the cast of the Sopranos, every Italian-American character actor ever...and Marie Osmond.
Just a small part of L&B's menu.
After scouring the menu for meatless options - of which there were surprisingly many that sounded delicious - and watching ten minutes of America's Funniest Videos, now shortened to AFV for today's Adderall generation, we were seated, and ordered two glasses of vino. Sorry, how could we go to a place like this and not have wine with our dinner? I'd be afraid John Gotti Jr. himself would burst through the swinging kitchen doors, guns blazing and mow us down in our utter disrespect. You know, were he not in jail.
Frosty glass goodness. L&B's...doin' it right.
We decided that the only way to really determine how deliciously prime the food was there would be to order pizza and pasta. And boy, did we carboload to the max.
Between the both of us, we ordered five slices of Sicilian pizza (the square stuff) and an plate of bow ties with Vodka sauce (which delightfully included onions, mushrooms and peas). I thought for sure there was no way we'd ever fit all that in our two stomachs, but lo and behold, all we took home with us was a little container of pasta.
Now, having never been to Sicily, I can't really say this is the best Sicilian pizza in the world, but as Mark put it, "I think I might just have to judge every future slice of pizza I eat against these...they are sooooo goood." And then he stuffed four slices down his pie-hole. (Heh...get it???? Pie hole???!? AHAHAHHA!! Yeah, oh- ...oh ok. Yeah, I figured you got that one. Sorry. I'll calm down.)
Now I will say this in all honesty, and with small fear of my life given that I posted that Google Map up there showing the whereabouts of our apartment: the pasta wasn't that great. Maybe I don't know much about traditional Vodka sauce, but the Vodka sauce I've had in the past had WAY less cream, way more tomato, and a heaping helpin' more flavor.
The ultra red color cast of the lighting in L&B's severely discolored my photos,
but even with color correction, it still comes out looking mega orange.
Granted, it's not like Vodka sauce is some old-world Italian heirloom recipe, but it should have tasted less like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, in my most humble opinion. The saddest part is that when Mark reheated the leftover portion the next day, the sauce separated into basically water, oil and something else of suspect nature and he found it generally unappetizing. Sorry, L&B...I'll have to try a different sauce with no cream next time, I think. (Can't go wrong with Broccoli Rabe, garlic, butter oil and fresh pasta, now can you?)
Other points of interest: the mirror-covered ceilings, which are both good for watching yourself do it and spying on what other people in the dining room are eating....
A super family-sized portion of pasta for five...and a portion of Mark's head.
"Eat up kid...you only live once!" *shakes cane*
All in all, the trip was a success. They have a huge amount of al fresco dining (aka outside) and all I can't wait to ride back over there after a day at the beach, all sunburned and salty, to sit outside with a couple beers (see...damn you fantasy, can't you be beer free?) and eat a whole pie of regular thin slices to see just how good those are...because I bet they are divine.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
The Great Carb Cutdown - Day 1
So my best friend Spring and I decided that during the month of May, we were going to attempt to tread bravely into the world of sobreity, in a desperate effort to be bikini ready by our annual birthday bash in July. Cause hey, those bikinis...they don't wear themselves.
Giving up alcohol and for myself, choosing to severely limit my carb intake at the same time, seems like a petty challenge. Zillions of people don't drink and plenty more live by the Atkins and South Beach Diet codes. Plenty of people suffer from Celiac Disease (aka wheat allergy) and reguarly eschew the likes of pasta and bread. But when your diet consists mainly of booze and bread, the idea of leaving them be for three weeks seems incredibly harrowing.
A small smattering of good times we've had, brought to you by BOOZE©
Giving up alcohol and for myself, choosing to severely limit my carb intake at the same time, seems like a petty challenge. Zillions of people don't drink and plenty more live by the Atkins and South Beach Diet codes. Plenty of people suffer from Celiac Disease (aka wheat allergy) and reguarly eschew the likes of pasta and bread. But when your diet consists mainly of booze and bread, the idea of leaving them be for three weeks seems incredibly harrowing.
A small smattering of good times we've had, brought to you by BOOZE©
To further emphasize how much Spring and I enjoy imbibing, every friend of ours - significant others included - we told about our plan to sober up laughed. Not just a little "hah...that's funny," but a gutteral, snyde "HA!", which translates roughly into, "yeah, that'll be the day." Other comments included "I give it until May 2nd." Et cetera, et cetera.
So I've decided that I'm going to chronicle my month long descent into madness here on my food blog, since one of the biggest hurdles for me will be figuring out what the hell to eat that doesn't involve pasta, bread, rice, etc. I figure quinoa is ok, as it's the "miracle grain" high in protein and low in carbs. I'm not trying to eliminate carbs from my diet, as that's totally impossible, but I'm definitely cutting the amount I shove through my gullet way, way down.
Today I'm optimisitc about what I can make that's pretty low carb. For example, yesterday I had a craving for frittata for breakfast. But since frittata is made of eggs (which I don't like to eat) I figured there had to be a way to make it using tofu. Sure enough, I was right.
Mark found this recipe for Vegan Frittata, the only part of which I referenced was the actual egg-batter substitute part. I should point out that I rarely ever follow recipes to the letter, just use them as a reference for what ingredients should go together and in approximately what ratios.
Frittata goodness...uncooked.
I sauteed the carrots and potatoes until they started to get a little soft, then sauteed everything else together in a separate pan until the asparagus started to be cooked through (since that's the ingredient that would normally take the longest to cook). While sauteing I seasoned them with all sorts of stuff: salt, black pepper, white pepper, chili powder, cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne powder, nutritional yeast. Then I dumped all that stuff into the casserole dish and poured my tofu sauce over the top. (See photos above).
From there, pop it in the oven at 350 degrees for about a half hour to make sure it's cooked the whole way through and when finished, let cool for about ten minutes so it can really solidify on the inside and presto! A delicious, low-carb breakfast. It has almost the exact same consistency as regular frittata except that it's a little bit more crumbly, and no furry or feathery fauna were harmed in the making of this breakfast. (Don't get me started on how factory farming is the main cause of things like this retarded Swine Flu, Avian Flu and Mad Cow Disease, among a host of other environmental and health-related epidemics).
You know you want me to come over and make you some, don't you?
Mark liked it so much that today he made another one with the left over tofu sauce I'd made too much of and as I'm typing this, he brought me a chunk. Mmmm...still delicious. If you are so lame and scared of cooking that you desperately need a recipe, use this one here.
Then today I decided to whip together a little three-bean and corn mexican salad, which is easy, tasty, protein and fiber-packed (for keeping you feeling full and your colon empty) and quick to make.
Beans, beans, the magical fruit...eating colorful is a great way to stay healthy, people.
Tonight, in a subversive attempt to ruin my diet, Mark suggested we ride our bikes (in the rain) to L&B Spumoni Gardens, supposedly home of the (2nd) best pizza in all of NYC, according to Mark's research. By far the place that is rumored to be the best pizza in the area, if not the country, as some have debated, is Totonno's, which sadly burned down in March. (WTF?? Probably because we decided we wanted to go eat there.) They have several more locations through the city, but the Totonno's in Coney Island near our house is the original, 1st location, where the pizza is probably the best. So I guess we'll have to hit them up after their rebuild.
Now if THAT doesn't look like the best pizza in the country to you, FUGGHETABOUTIT!
I'll tell you one thing, if I'm gonna wuss out on the carb thing, at least I'm going to write a sweet pizza blog about it.
So I've decided that I'm going to chronicle my month long descent into madness here on my food blog, since one of the biggest hurdles for me will be figuring out what the hell to eat that doesn't involve pasta, bread, rice, etc. I figure quinoa is ok, as it's the "miracle grain" high in protein and low in carbs. I'm not trying to eliminate carbs from my diet, as that's totally impossible, but I'm definitely cutting the amount I shove through my gullet way, way down.
Today I'm optimisitc about what I can make that's pretty low carb. For example, yesterday I had a craving for frittata for breakfast. But since frittata is made of eggs (which I don't like to eat) I figured there had to be a way to make it using tofu. Sure enough, I was right.
Mark found this recipe for Vegan Frittata, the only part of which I referenced was the actual egg-batter substitute part. I should point out that I rarely ever follow recipes to the letter, just use them as a reference for what ingredients should go together and in approximately what ratios.
- So what I did was cut up the following into about 1" pieces:
- 1 sweet potato
6 stalks green asparagus (don't forget to cut off about 2" at the end of each piece. Too fiberous to eat, that part.)
1/2 of a small zuchinni
5 button mushrooms
1 carrot
1 small white onion
6 cloves of garlic (these I chopped finely)
1/3 of a head of cauliflower
Frittata goodness...uncooked.
I sauteed the carrots and potatoes until they started to get a little soft, then sauteed everything else together in a separate pan until the asparagus started to be cooked through (since that's the ingredient that would normally take the longest to cook). While sauteing I seasoned them with all sorts of stuff: salt, black pepper, white pepper, chili powder, cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne powder, nutritional yeast. Then I dumped all that stuff into the casserole dish and poured my tofu sauce over the top. (See photos above).
From there, pop it in the oven at 350 degrees for about a half hour to make sure it's cooked the whole way through and when finished, let cool for about ten minutes so it can really solidify on the inside and presto! A delicious, low-carb breakfast. It has almost the exact same consistency as regular frittata except that it's a little bit more crumbly, and no furry or feathery fauna were harmed in the making of this breakfast. (Don't get me started on how factory farming is the main cause of things like this retarded Swine Flu, Avian Flu and Mad Cow Disease, among a host of other environmental and health-related epidemics).
You know you want me to come over and make you some, don't you?
Mark liked it so much that today he made another one with the left over tofu sauce I'd made too much of and as I'm typing this, he brought me a chunk. Mmmm...still delicious. If you are so lame and scared of cooking that you desperately need a recipe, use this one here.
Then today I decided to whip together a little three-bean and corn mexican salad, which is easy, tasty, protein and fiber-packed (for keeping you feeling full and your colon empty) and quick to make.
- I used:
- 1 can black beans
1/2 can dark red kidney beans
1/2 can organic adzuki beans
1/2 can sweet corn
1/2 green pepper (diced)
1/2 red pepper (diced)
1/2 medium white onion (diced)
1/2 small red onion (diced)
3 cloves garlic (diced)
1 small handful fresh parsley (finely chopped)
1 tablespoon dried cilantro (we didn't have any fresh stuff around)
juice of one small lemon
a few tablespoons of olive oil
a few tablespoons of red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon of organic unfiltered apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 tsp Secret Aardvark hot sauce
1 tsp cumin
salt, pepper to taste.
Beans, beans, the magical fruit...eating colorful is a great way to stay healthy, people.
Tonight, in a subversive attempt to ruin my diet, Mark suggested we ride our bikes (in the rain) to L&B Spumoni Gardens, supposedly home of the (2nd) best pizza in all of NYC, according to Mark's research. By far the place that is rumored to be the best pizza in the area, if not the country, as some have debated, is Totonno's, which sadly burned down in March. (WTF?? Probably because we decided we wanted to go eat there.) They have several more locations through the city, but the Totonno's in Coney Island near our house is the original, 1st location, where the pizza is probably the best. So I guess we'll have to hit them up after their rebuild.
Now if THAT doesn't look like the best pizza in the country to you, FUGGHETABOUTIT!
I'll tell you one thing, if I'm gonna wuss out on the carb thing, at least I'm going to write a sweet pizza blog about it.
Phun with Phyllo!
Valentines' Day isn't something that Mark or I give two rats rear-ends about when it comes to our relationship. We both hate cards (waste of natural resources), we both hate flowers (not very practical) and hate anniversaries (when you do special things for your significant other all year round, the idea of an anniversary is pretty lame). I'm trying my hardest not to launch into a rambling tirade about my dislike for holidays in general (except Halloween, of course).
There is, however, one thing that's good about the fact that millions of other chronically neglectful couples love to celebrate Valentines' Day, and that's the vast array of prix fixe meal deals offered in NYC's priciest eateries. It provides people like Mark and I the rare chance to pull out our ceaselessly ignored "nice clothes" and pretend we're rich Manhattanites for just one evening.
This year, Valentines' Day fell on a Saturday - gastronomically convenient, I'd say - and we talked about heading to a sheik new vegetarian wine bar down in the Lower East Side called Counter. Their prix fixe menu for Valentines' Day was only $50, but for some reason, at the last minute, we decided we didn't feel like going out anywhere, but instead opted to stay at home and make something special ourselves instead.
The idea came to me as I was walking down Lexington ave. after overseeing a photo shoot of a $10K custom mirror we'd just installed in some penthouse condo on 56th st. I'd stopped at the grocery store in the neighborhood and was wondering aimlessly through the unusually narrow aisles filled with 80 year old shoppers - the rent in Manhattan is so high that grocery stores shove their shelves so close together to maximize space that you can hardly fit a cart through - when my eyes locked on a particularly intriguing target: Frozen phyllo dough.
Phyllo has always been to me, much like David Bowie in Labyrinth: mystical, delicate but intimidating and strangely sexually arousing. (hah.)
"Is that a phyllo box in your basket or are you just happy to see me?"
Mesmerized by its reflection through the freezer door, I was suddenly reminded of a recipe I'd seen in my November/December 2008 issue of Vegetarian Times magazine - Mushroom, Cheese and Vegetable Strudel - that had been on my list of things to try and make for a few months. Passion overwhelmed me, I threw open the freezer door and rescued the box of flaky goodness from its frosty prison.
I got home and immediately started preparing, most importantly by popping open a bottle of the good stuff (2006 Hess Mendocino, Lake, Napa Cabernet Sauvignon - $17) and chopping up garlic, onions and red peppers. (Also chopped were a bunch of white button mushrooms, not pictured...picture too boooring.)
Chopping and sauteeing veggies.
Next, sautee up your onion, garlic and pepper on low heat with a couple tablespoons of olive oil and salt, pepper and thyme to taste. Once they all start turning a little translucent, add in your mushrooms, sautee those down and then add in your spinach at the end, turning off heat when the spinach starts to wilt. (When you overcook your veggies, you severly reduce the nutritional content! Crunchy and colorful is the way to stay.) Transfer all your vegetables into a strainer of some kind to get as much of the liquid out as you can and then put them aside in a large bowl.
Creamy tofu goodness. Some would feel otherwise, I'm sure.
Oh yeah baby, mix it goood.
Next came the part of this whole recipe that freaked me out: workin' the dough. I had researched a few things about using Phyllo on the internet, just to get some good tips, and everything I'd read told me to work fast, work cold, and use lots of lube. OIL. I mean oil. Use lots of OIL.
Mark volunteered to wrangle the sheets of phyllo because I was just too intimidated, and I took the job of sheet greaser, brushing each thin layer of dough with a rosemary/garlic olive oil mixture we'd made. I did help him lay the sheets out on the baking pan so they wouldn't crinkle up on each other and get all ripped and stuck together. I'd be lying if I said that didn't happen a few times, but overall we performed well, especially for phyllo virgins.
Brusha' brusha. What up, double chin? How you hangin'?? (heh.)
- Now by far the hardest part here was understanding the damn recipe and how many sheets of dough you're supposed to lay down and in what order for the top and bottom layers of this thing.
The recipe says, for bottom crust: - Cover bottom of prepared baking pan with 2 phyllo sheets, allowing sheets to overlap each other and hang off sides. Brush with garlic oil. Place 2 more phyllo sheets on top, and brush with garlic oil. Repeat 4 times, until you have a 6-layer bottom crust.
- And for the top crust:
Spread Filling in crust, leaving 3-inch edge all around. Brush edges with garlic oil. Fold sides of phyllo over filling. Cover filling with 2-sheet layer of phyllo (4 sheets total), overlapping sheets in center. Brush with garlic oil. Repeat layering 2 sheets at a time until you have 4 layers (16 sheets phyllo total), brushing every second sheet with garlic oil.
Lay down your bottom crust, scoop in the filling, spreading it out leaving a 3-inch border of dough on all sides, then cover with top crust.
Mark glares skeptically at our lovely loaf.
Next is the most exciting step (after eating the damn thing, of course): TUCKING! I'm sure Mr. Bowie also knows a lot about that. Turns out Mark is also a master tucker, and volunteered to show me how you tuck a good phyllo crust into itself.
Tuck, tuck, tuck...smooth as the front of a tranny's unitard!
From there, take your lovely loaf, brush the top with more garlic oil (or you can make the nutmeg topping mentioned in the VegTimes recipe, but we opted to leave it out (we were getting too hungry to care), and bake it at 350 degrees in the oven for 45 to 50 minutes (+/- depending on how crappy your oven is) and....
LOAF!
Perfection! From there the rest is easy:
Cut into 2" thick slices after it cools a little, then EAT EAT EAT.
Luckily, we ended up getting to eat at Counter several weeks later in March for a League of Humane Voters fundraising dinner, where Counter chose to donate 20% of the nights proceeds towards the LOHV. Every single thing we ate was every bit as delicious as we thought it would be. They also have a huge list of organic wine and beers to pair with your meal. By far the funniest part of the evening is that we both rode our bikes there and were the only people in attendance that night wearing t-shirts and ripped jeans.
I mean really...would you expect any less from us? Luckily for our waitress, sometimes bike riding, earth loving, punk-ass vegetarian kids are able to tip like kings.
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