November 2, 2009
People are begging me to add an RSS feed to this – and I will – as soon as Nick comes home from school and does it for me. I’m a complete fool when it comes to this sort of thing. Sorry.
Meanwhile, I’ve been reading Dana Goodyear’s piece on Jonathan in this week’s New Yorker. She’s got the food bit right, but it sidetracked her. It sounds like nothing but endless meals. She’s missed his quirky brillliance and his extraordinary sweetness.
October 29, 2009
My latest fantasy? A Peking Duck cart, set up smack in the middle of Times Square. I can’t stop thinking about it; there’s a place out in Flushing that sells wonderful squares of crisp duck skin tucked into little buns with scallions and a squiggle of Hoisin sauce for a dollar. It’s a luxurious snack, and if you set one up in midtown Manhattan there would surely be lines around the block.
Laurie, Margy, Nancy and I bought the buns, and then went back and bought more. As we devoured the rich little tidbits we began designing the cart, the signage, even the uniforms. We named it Duck U, and for an entire evening convinced one another that we really were going into the duck business. By the next day the fantasy had faded. Still, for about an hour every day the idea comes floating back, and I find myself dreaming of ducks. Or at the very least, dreaming of eating those extremely delicious little duck buns.
October 23, 2009
There's an upside to not having a job: Once again I get to wander the city, following my feet and my appetite. The weather has been a gift – bright, shiny Indian summer – and for days I've been roaming around with my favorite people. Talking, walking, eating, arting. One day we walked down to Madison Square Park and ate Shake Shack burgers on the lawn before spending the afternoon devouring art in the Chelsea galleries. Another we rode the 7 train out to Flushing for soup dumplings. We found the oldest church in America out there – a quiet Quaker building ithat looks so out of place in that bustling neighborhood. Five minutes away, we descended into the Golden Mall, a vibrant, throbbing, pungent underground warren of tiny restaurants that reminded me of the way Singapore hawker centers were before they were sanitized into pristine cleanliness. The food down there was superb – great floppy buns filled with chives, bean threads and eggs, and lamb burgers that tingled on the tongue. Sichuan dumplings, alive with chiles. In one corner a man from Lan Zhou was hand-pulling noodles in one spot while a woman from Xian made knife-cut noodles a few feet away. It was all dizzyingly delicious, and it cheered me up enormously.
October 18, 2009
When Mitch and Robin showed up last night, I had just finished making the tomato gratin and washing the salad. I was beginning to peel the potatoes. Robin glanced down at them and said “What’s for dinner?”
When I replied, “You said you were bringing a big Porterhouse,” her face fell.
“I completely forgot,” she said.
“Oops,” I said; we didn’t have much in the house. I opened the freezer and peered in. When I saw the hand-made sausage from heritage pigs I smiled. “No problem, ” I said, “I’ll make pasta sauce with this. It’ll be a great dinner.”
In the end, Mitch decided to make fresh pasta, so we were all in the kitchen together, drinking wine, eating the liver pate I’d made earlier, spooning up bits of sauce. It was a terrific meal – and much more fun than the meal I’d planned. Cheaper, too.
October 16, 2009
Launch party for Adventures with Ruth last night was bittersweet: The last Gourmet party, ever. There were so many people there who mean so much to me, from my colleagues at the magazine, to the production crew that traveled for the show. Friends too, who just showed up to lend moral support. Lots of great food, including wonderful little sea urchin crostini.
But I have to say the best part was afterward, when a big group of us went off to Congee Village. It’s my favorite place for an informal party; they have karaoke rooms downstairs where you can be ridiculously silly in total privacy. (It would be nice if you could turn the lights down a bit, but perhaps that’s asking too much.) We feasted for hours, tearing gingered crabs apart with our teeth, grabbing chewy slices of raw geoduck off a bed of ice, chewing on pork ribs and pork intestines and slurping up noodles. At the end we slowed it all down with bowls of congee, the most comforting food on earth. And then we faded off into the early morning dark, wondering when we’ll see each other again, and under what circumstances.