Drinking it in.

The last couple of weekends, I've taken advantage of the near-perfect early autumn weather to enjoy a few laps around the Central Park Reservoir followed by a stroll down to Joe for a post-workout caffeine hit.

These outings have only added to the love I've been feeling for the Upper East as of late.

We're something of the red-headed stepchild up here, what with our reputation for stuffiness and terrible restaurants, but things have been improving like mad. Plus, we have most of the good museums.

 It's okay; your Metrocard will work up here, I promise. Come visit!

Late summer supper.

A few weeks ago, my friends Nick and Louisa were in town, which always means I'm in for a few good meals. Even though they've swapped the wilds of rural Ohio for the wonders of Austin, they're still aiming to get a serious New York food fix whenever they visit. Their first night here, we met our friends Liz and Carrie for dinner at Prune, Gabrielle Hamilton's perennial neighborhood favorite, best known for its insanely delicious (and popular) brunch. 

I ordered a Junipero Gibson (a gin martini garnished with housemade pickled onions) and nibbled on fried chickpeas while I waited for the others to arrive. (They were coming from pre-dinner drinks at Ten Bells; I was trekking in from having my hair done by the lovely Holly in SoHo.) The cocktail was perfectly cool and crisp, and kept me company all through dinner (and for a while afterward, to tell the truth).

 I started with a special kale salad, which went so fast and was so delicious that I forgot to snap its photo.The kale was shredded and dressed with crumbly cheese, garlic and lots and lots of olive oil. I've had many kale salads, but this one was something special. My main was the grilled steak with a tomato and onion salad. The steak was perfectly cooked to medium rare, and the rings of red onion were just crunchy and spicy enough to set off the sweat, meaty tomatoes. A bit of bleu cheese butter rounded things out, and reminded me of one of the things I love about Prune: the food is exuberant, but not overdone. They know that all you need is a touch of cheese in each bite, not an overwhelming heap of it on the plate.

In another nod to disappearing summer, we ordered a side of peas for the table. They arrived, beautifully green, perfectly cooked (English peas, snow peas and - my favorite - sugar snaps), spiked with horseradish and topped with honeycomb. The horseradish accentuated the peas' natural vegetal bite, while the honey upped their sweetness. Peas, amplified.

Finally, dessert. We went a bit over the top here, ordering three different ones to try. A rhubarb bourbon bread pudding, a summer pudding with whipped cream, and a pound cake with fruit syrup. All three were wonderful (and the blazing color of the summer pudding outshone the rest), but the bread pudding was my very favorite. The perfect end to a late summer feast. Next time, squash and brussels sprouts will replace tomatoes and peas, and nothing will be quite the same.

Now there's an excuse to go back if ever there was one, right?

Recently.

I've been trying to enjoy the last of summer's bounty these days. The evenings are falling earlier and earlier, but I managed to sneak in a meandering twilight stroll around my neighborhood last week. The Guggenheim looked gorgeous all lit up by the setting sun to the west.

 

The tomatoes have been ridiculously good. I made a little sauce with the San Marzanos and ate the heirloom ones with avocado and red onion.

A couple of Saturdays ago, I stopped into Joe for a pick-me-up cappuccino and a delicious hour of reading. I've been plowing through books on my Kindle this summer; I just finished The Dog Stars and started a Louise Penny mystery.

I spied this cookbook when I popped into Barnes & Noble to pick up a gift for a friend. I'd never heard of Leon (a restaurant in London), but I think I might need this book sooner rather than later. Anything with a cover like this one has to be full of deliciousness. 

Montauk, part three: breakfast.

My friend Stacey is my Food Wife. She has impeccable taste, serious cred, and a remarkable ability to throw a ridiculous cocktail party at a moment's notice. She volunteered to make breakfast the morning we spent in Montauk, and that turned out to be a really, really good idea.

She made an incredible batch of slow-scrambled eggs with cheddar and chives. She cooked up some Black Forest bacon from the venerable Schaller & Weber. Best of all? She made some of the most delicious biscuits I have ever had. Light, fluffy, tender. Pretty much perfect.

That's why I food-married her.

Montauk, part one: the beach.

A couple of weeks ago, my friends Matt and Marcia invited me and our friend Stacey to join them in Montauk for a couple of days. They'd rented a house for the week to celebrate their seventh wedding anniversary, and wanted to have friends out to join them in the revelry.

Obviously, I said yes.

Montauk is a tiny little village out on the eastern tip of Long Island's South Fork - in fact, it's so far east that it's the easternmost point in the state of New York. It's long been considered the chillest part of the Hamptons, thanks to its history as a surfing and artist-friendly enclave. (Rufus Wainwright married his longtime partner at their home there just yesterday.)

Town laws forbid chains of any kind, so all of the hotels are tiny and charming, and Starbucks is nowhere to be seen. Hipsters have invaded in recent years, but I have to say: they weren't too annoying.

Several hours of both days were devoted to serious beach time. The waves were strong (both Marcia and Matt took serious bangs when coming in from paddle boarding), and the sand was soft.

And though I didn't snag a photo, I can tell you that the stargazing was likewise amazing from the beach. Matt, Stacey and I trekked down there one night (powered by a not inconsiderable amount of wine and bourbon) and laid back on the sand. It's rare for a New Yorker to see more than a couple of stars at once; to see clouds and bands of them - and to understand why we call it the Milky Way - is a rare treat, and one to be savored.

And we ate a lot, too. More on that soon.

Chappaqua, August 18.

A gorgeous sky in Chappaqua last weekend. We've been having ridiculously nice weather in New York of late, especially given that August is supposed to be the most miserable month of all around these parts.

What I spied a-marketing.

Spotted at the St. Stephen's Greenmarket on East 82nd Street last Saturday. Amazing colors, right?

Ladies who lunch (at Babbo).

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Marcia and I met for a ladies' lunch at Babbo. It was a rainy Friday afternoon, and so a glass of red wine seemed very much in order. No doubt you agree. I have no idea what the wine was, as the bartender poured me something based on a string of somewhat silly adjectives (I know nothing about Italian wine), but, yum.

We shared two appetizers to start with, both crazy seasonal and yet perfectly Babbo-esque. Strong flavors marked by high acid and spice, and a mix of textures to delight the palate. First up, a market bean milanese. The duck egg was the crispy part, and it sat atop a pile of green and white beans - a mix of string and flat - tossed in a tangy vinaigrette. A smattering of cheese grounded the dish with a bit of dirty, earthy, aged flavor.

Second, some teeny fairy tale eggplant grilled and tossed with a corn dressing and served atop a piece of grilled bread. The sweet corn popped against the creamy, smoky eggplant and the crunchy bread. I could have eaten ten of these.

My main was guinea hen alla cacciatore. A very tradition preparation (ridiculous rich tomato-and-veg sauce, a slight amount of heat), save for the shaved green onions on top. The peppery bite was welcome against the rich, dark meat. It reminded me that it was still lunch, and I had miles to go before it was time to sleep.

As we went to leave the restaurant, we opened the door to a complete and total downpour. The hostess let us know that it would rain on and off all afternoon, and said she hoped we had umbrellas. We did, and it did, but I hardly noticed a thing. I was too busy dreaming of eggplant.

Lately.

Just a quick roundup of things I've eaten and sipped lately. First up, superlative green papaya salad from Wondee Siam II in Hell's Kitchen. This place has some delicious Thai and is a stone's throw from Ars Nova (my brother's theater), so we spend a serious amount of time here. (Also worth trying? Any of the curries.)

Speaking of curries, they come with a pyramidal side of fluffy white rice. As a rice lover, I hardly need any inducement to eat mine, but come on. That's too fun.

Shake Shack does day-of-the-week flavors, which change up once a month. August's Friday flavor is blueberry coffee cake: soft blueberry custard with coffee cake mixed in. It's pretty freaking good, and is delightfully redolent of cinnamon (my favorite compliment to the juicy blueberries of summer).

 

A gin gimlet at Ouest on the Upper West Side. These guys sling the most reliably delicious cocktails north of 59th Street, and I love spending an evening sipping and nibbling - the kitchen sends out regular batches of toasty warm gougeres.

Finally, a pickle sampler from the new restaurant Jacob's Pickles. The biscuits are good; the pickles are awesome. From left to right, we've got dill spears, carrots, spicy beets and dilly green beans. More pickles than even this obsessive could finish.

July 22, 5:19 PM, 66th Street and Broadway.

I think the mosaics at the 66th Street subway station may very well be my favorite subterranean art in the city. They take their inspiration from the world of opera, in tribute to the Metropolitan Opera House, which sits just one story up from the platform.

Pig and pool.

Way back when, back before we went to Maine, back before the Olympics, my friend Jeremy (and his friend Chris) threw himself a 30th birthday party. This wasn't just any birthday party, though - this one featured two whole roast pigs. And a pool. And rose in Solo cups.

I know.

Chris and Jeremy hired Redbones, a Somerville, Massachusetts-based barbecue joint, to come cook overnight so that the rest of us could enjoy pig come the morning. A pretty excellent idea paired with a pretty kickass execution. After all, who doesn't love barbecue? (Answer? Vegetarians. Luckily, there were some top-notch sides, too. I ate my weight in coleslaw and cornbread.)

And watermelon.

 The party was held at Chris' parents' place in Lewisboro, a teeny little hamlet just north of New Canaan. The house was lovely, and the lawn and garden were just stunning. Best of all? There was a pool! After lunch, I headed down that way to cool down...

And to enjoy some serious amounts of rose.

I was not alone.

And, for dessert, a final pig. This one was veggie-friendly, though.

'Tis the season.

This summer (well, late spring), I've been making an effort to spend more time in Central Park. It's a fifteen minute walk from my house, and yet I'm rarely there. I'd bet that in the ten summers I've spent in Manhattan, I've spent more time crossing the park than sitting in it.

And so last Sunday, I packed up my new park-sitting blanket and headed for a quiet spot of green not far from the Delacorte. After spending a couple of hours reading and napping, I gathered my things and set off on a little walk. My plan was to meander back east, then hop over to Lexington in the East 70s to run some errands.

That, friends, is how I found myself in the Ramble, a tangle of paths in a densely wooded bit of the park, along the edges of the lake.

Next time, I'll have to bring a friend and rent a boat, something I've never done. Ten years is too long to go without that experience, right? Right.

In the neighborhood.

I did not move to the Upper East Side because it was cool. I did it because it was cheap, convenient, and, well, that's it. I've never regretted it, but I do wish I lived in a neighborhood where grabbing a tasty bite to eat in a cool atmosphere with good drinks was easier to do. For years, that was a pretty tall order. It's still not the easiest thing, but it is getting better. And the folks behind ABV are a big part of that.

I've been a few times, but only once when it was light enough out to get some decent snaps for you guys to enjoy. I paid a Friday evening visit with my friend Cristin, and we both ordered a flight of rosé. (The French one on the far right was definitely the best.) Then, we enjoyed a couple of snacks - first up, the fish tacos with kimchee. I really liked these, except for one thing: the guacamole was really strongly flavored with cilantro. For some of you, that would seal the deal. For me, it meant an early stop to the proceedings. I hate it when menus don't specify that things have cilantro. Grrrr.

Next up, the fried pickles. These are fancy fried pickles, with a light, tempura-ish batter coating seriously juicy half-sours in large chunks, all served with a miso mayonnaise. The enormous serving is enormously cheap (five bucks), and well worth your time. They go swimmingly with wine, too.

ABV is a wine bar, and, accordingly, they have a great selection of sweet and fortified wines to keep the drinking going once the savories have been dispensed with. My selection this time? The 10-year-old Nierporent tawny. Delicious on its own; even better with sticky toffee pudding. (Just saying.)

One quick note: my very favorite thing that ABV serves is their meatloaf sandwich, which comes with fries and is served on a toasted bagel and topped with a fried egg. It is, in a word, delightful. So don't not order it just because I've only eaten it when it's been dark out, is what I'm saying.

ABV
1504 Lexington Avenue
Between 97th and 98th Streets
212.722.8959

Astorian idyll.

Last week, my friend Stacey asked me if I wanted to join her for a shrimp boil. Obviously, I said yes. Turns out we were headed for Sunday Night Dinner, a supper club created by the incredible Tamara Reynolds. The story? You pay $45 and promise to bring a bottle of wine; Tamara cooks an amazing meal for you and 19 of your closest/soon-to-be-closest friends. It is, in a word, awesome.

 

The menu for Friday's gathering was decidedly Southern. Stacey and I - and a good 50% of the rest of the guests, I'd say - started off by cracking one of the two bottles of rosé we'd brought with us from Manhattan. A few minutes later, these open-faced beauties appeared. Smeared with anchovy butter and topped with radish and watercress, they were rich, spicy and perfect with the wine.

Then came the tomato pie. I don't know what was in this (one theory we bounced around involved mascarpone, mayonnaise and a little egg for bonding it all together), but I do know that it was delicious. Tangy (hence the mayonnaise), creamy, dotted with little grape tomatoes that put me in mind of the exploding food trend we saw on our trip to Chicago in 2009 - surprising (close that mouth) and delighted-giggle-inducing.

 

Next up, the soup course, a perfectly seasonal (and delicious) radish gazpacho. I loved this, especially because it was just a little bit uneven, texture-wise. The varying bits and bobs kept my tongue interested the whole time, and the bite of the radishes added a welcome bit of heat to the proceedings.

 

A giant, lemony green salad followed, served alongside a platter of perfectly cooked asparagus. I had to stop myself from eating every last spear.

Finally, the main course arrived. Judiciously seasoned with Old Bay and accompanied by mild pork sausage and plump peas, the shrimp were freaking awesome. And there's something to be said for eating at a table full of strangers and still being cool with getting down and dirty with shell-on shrimp. This crowd got really into it. (Had a great conversation about Prometheus, too, and nobody asked about anyone else's career for a good two hours. Amazing, right?)

Dessert, the only course served post-sunset, was Jersey strawberries with whipped cream. They were tiny, sweet and lovely - a last gasp of late spring before the more full-bodied, richly flavored stone fruits start popping up in the markets.

The table. Idyllic, yes?

There was nothing about the night I didn't love, right down to this string of outdoor lights. Everything about it was wonderful - even the mosquito bites felt just right.