Sundays are for bacon.

 

Nothing says "Sunday morning" quite like the smell of bacon crisping in the pan.  This past Sunday, I decided I would forgo my usual breakfast (coffee and, well, coffee) for something real and hearty; something that could get me through my chores and carry me on well past lunchtime.

That something was an egg, avocado and bacon sandwich. It started innocently enough - people have been more atwitter than usual recently over the idea of avocado toast, and so that was my plan. Avocado mashed about a bit, spread on fresh baguette, topped with a smidge of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt and pepper.

But then I remembered the eggs in my fridge - after all, they were just sitting there, hanging out, waiting to become the protein in some fabulous creation.  And the bacon! The bacon I bought last week in a fit of craving, and of which I've used on bits and pieces.  Both pair so well with one another and with the avocado - how could I leave them out of the party?

And so the sandwich evolved. From a mashed avocado on toast to a far taller, far naughtier creation.  Fresh baked baguette (courtesy of FreshDirect's parbaked goods section), still warm from the oven and spread with a bit of mayonnaise.  Next, a layer of sliced avocado, seasoned liberally with salt and freshly ground pepper.  Next, a slice or two of slab bacon, fried to just this side of crispy and topped with fluffy scrambled eggs.

Creamy, salty, fluffy, crispy deliciousness, all in one little sandwich.  Oh, happy Sunday.

On a roll.

I've lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan for about seven years now. That's meant enduring seven years of raised eyebrows, "Oh, I'm so sorrys," and "But where do you eats?" Truth is, I moved to the neighborhood for the cheap rent, and stayed for the convenient commute. But, finally, my years of patient waiting (broken only by marvelous dinners at the now-shuttered Bar États-Unis and the slightly-too-dear-for-everyday Spigolo) seem to be paying off. The Upper East Side is creeping ever so slowly toward becoming cool.

No, really.

A few new places with cred have opened recently (not to mention the Shake Shack due to start slinging burgers by the end of the month), including an uptown branch of the downtown seafood mecca, Luke's Lobster. Jeremy and I visited their original East Village shop back in March, and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The rolls are plain and simple: lobster, butter, salt, pepper and a touch of Hellmann's, served up on a butter-toasted hot dog bun.

Now that they're so close to home, I've gotten the chance to try the shrimp roll, which is similarly unadorned, and just as tasty. The shrimp are small and tender, and pop lusciously in the mouth. For me, the buttered roll is half the point of a seafood roll, and the shrimp's less aggressive flavor lets the roll shine even brighter - so that made me pretty happy.

Most exciting of all, Luke's uptown branch has installed a Fryolator and will soon be serving fried belly clams. (As early as today; the staff needs to conquer some eyelash-singeing hiccups first.)

This New Englander couldn't be more excited. Bring. It. On.

Luke's Lobster
242 E. 81st Street (Between 2nd and 3rd Avenues)
212.249.4241

The (food) moments that shaped my decade.

The aughts are coming to a close tonight, and I've decided to join the frenzy of lists appearing across the interwebs. Mine is a fairly personal, navel-gazing sort of list; instead of naming the biggest events in the food world in general, I've decided to focus on the most significant moments of my food- and drink-centered life over the last decade.

I turned 21 in 2000 and graduated from college in 2001, so the aughts have encompassed my early adulthood, my twenties. They're the years I spent finding my home (Hello, New York!), my career (user experience research and design, for now) and my taste (Sriracha, bacon and Vietnamese food, FTW!). In fact, it's pretty darn hard to distill the most important moments of my eating life down to a list of just ten top ones, so please forgive me for any that seem like I'm cheating by, say, essentially granting a tie to every single moment of my 2006 trip to Europe. Please?

All right, here goes!

Number 10: My first taste of Far Niente's Dolce.
As you all know, I am a huge fan of dessert wines both funky and sweet, and particularly of those that combine the two. Before I tried Sauternes or Banyuls, though, I drank Dolce - which is America's most delicious answer to the former. I still remember my first sip, which took place one boozy Saturday night in 2004, at Ouest with Nick and Louisa, when Nick ordered a 375 ml bottle for the three of us to share. I'd never tasted anything quite like it - syrupy, but not sickly, and infinitely musky and complex. I'd go on to tour the winery in 2006, where my mom practically had to restrain me from buying a whole case.

Number 9: Dinner at Alinea.
This one just made it in under the wire, happening as it did in November 2009. My first (and hopefully not last) dinner at Alinea was predictably delicious, and - despite the giant spoiler effect of following Grant Achatz's restaurant for years - surprising and exciting. It was a meal unlike any other I've ever eaten, one where craftsmanship was present in every bite and whimsy never once trumped flavor. A truly incredible experience.
Number 8: Discovering the wonder of Vietnamese food.
Gradually, over the last eight years, my Asian cuisine of choice has slowly shifted from Chinese, to Thai, and finally alighted on Vietnamese. The original Asian fusion, Vietnamese food combines Asian ingredients and flavors with French technique, and has given us such culinary delights as pho (a noodle soup like no other) and the currently super-trendy banh mi, a sandwich full of terrine, herbs, pickles and pate, served on that most French of breads, the baguette. It's slightly funky, thanks to the ever-present fish sauce, but also refined, thanks to a balance of flavors and textures. And I just can't get enough.

Number 7: Making banh mi at home.
Speaking of Vietnamese food - but, seriously, folks...I'm including this past summer's banh mi-fest not only because the results were delicious, but because I think it marks a culmination of the collaborative cooking and exploration Louisa and I have done together. We push one another to try new and different techniques and ingredients, using our time together each summer to tackle a couple of new projects. These banh mi, for which we made everything from scratch - even grinding our own meat - save the bread, are our proudest achievement to date. A repeat performance is planned, and we'll be upping the ante by baking our own baguettes.

Number 6: Ditching vodka for booze with actual flavor.
Just as there's a place for water in the pantheon of great beverages, there's one for vodka. That place, however, is not in a cocktail, and certainly not in a martini. If there's one thing for which my boozehound side is most grateful to the aughts, it's the cocktail craze, and, in particular, the resurgence of brown spirits and gin. Gin is just...better. As is bourbon. And dark rum. And...everything. Vodka is great in a Russian restaurant, served ice cold alongside caviar, but that's about it. I know some of you disagree, and that's your perogative. But, you're, um, wrong.

Number 5: Discovering Thomas Keller.
Obviously, I didn't discover Chef Keller, but he didn't mean much to me before, oh, 2003 or 2004, at which point I became obsessed with eating in at least one of his restaurants. Since then, I've cooked from three of his cookbooks (Bouchon, The French Laundry and Ad Hoc), eaten at three of his restaurants (Per Se, Bouchon and Bouchon Bakery) and become a devoted fan. His mashup of American ingredients and know-how with classic French technique may no longer be revolutionary, but it's still revelatory: I dare you not to fall in love with Bouchon's entire menu. Go ahead - in fact, I double-dog dare you.

Number 4: Joining eGullet.
I joined the internet food fray in 2005, when I became a member (and, eventually, a staffer) of eGullet. For a time, it was my absolutely favorite place on the web. Full of interesting, smart people who knew a ton about home cooking and the restaurant world, it was where I first stretched my food-loving wings, and, in particular, my food-writing muscles. It's where I learned about Sriracha and how to make puff pastry. It's where I learned how to take decent photographs of food. And, most significantly, the two week-long foodblogs I did there in 2006 and 2007 gave me the confidence I needed to start my own blog, which is coming up on its (gasp) third anniversary.

Number 3: Making my first mayonnaise.
I read Amanda Hesser's memoir Cooking For Mr. Latte when it first came out in 2003. It was a sweet book, but I was more interested in the food than in the love story, and was determined to become as sophisticated an epicurean as Ms. Hesser herself. Thus inspired, I made my first mayonnaise from her recipe, and have been whisking ever since. It marked the first time I ventured into truly classical, technique-focused cooking, and the deliciousness of homemade mayonnaise convinced me that (most) shortcuts are, indeed, for suckers.

2. My trip to Europe with Louisa.
Louisa and I spent two weeks in Prague, Strasbourg, Champagne and Paris in 2006. The trip cemented us as best friends, thanks in great part to the enormous amount of bonding we did over food and drink. Whether it was duck in a Prague pub, flutes of Champagne in a Reims tasting room, or steak tartare in Paris, the food we ate and the sights we saw created a common set of memories and experiences that will be ours, alone, forever. It also happens that the trip included two of my top meals of all time (at Chez Yvonne and Camille in Strasbourg and Paris, respectively), the best eclair in history, and the most satisfying doner kebab ever. All in all, two weeks that will live in memory - actually, in perpetuity, thanks to the internet.

1. Shopping at the Union Square Greenmarket.
Blame it on Dan Barber, Michael Pollan - whomever. For a myriad of reasons, I started shopping seasonally and locally a few years ago, and have no plans to go back. Oh, sure, I still buy frozen vegetables, and I do buy cucumbers out of season - not to mention the occasional flown-in fish. But, thanks to New York City's incredible Greenmarket network, I've been able to do a remarkable thing: support local businesses, reduce my carbon footprint, and make super food - all at the same time. Nothing's changed my eating habits more drastically in the last decade than my effort to shop as much as possible in Union Square (or at one of the other Greenmarket outposts around the city), and, for that I am grateful.

So, folks - if you've managed to stick it out this long - what were the formative moments of the aughts for you? Share in the comments - and Happy New Year!

A peanut butter cookie so good it makes you want to play hooky.

A couple of weeks ago, my colleagues Lory, Julie and I decided it was high time for a proper lunch, one not eaten at a desk or conference table, but in a restaurant - with waiters and everything! Our other reason for venturing outside was to check out the offerings at Má Pêche, David Chang's new restaurant in the Chambers Hotel.

Chang is taking over the old Town. space (No, that period is not mispunctuation. The restaurant really had a period in its name.), and the full-scale restaurant is set to open in January. In the meantime, he's trying out a pared-down version of the Vietnamese menu in the hotel's lounge area, just upstairs from the lobby. The experience is indeed lounge-y, with low-slung tables, couches and poufs.

There's an à la carte menu (featuring a rumored-to-be-delish burger and fries) as well a $10 prix fixe option. (Note: a salad in midtown will run you about $12, so this is an excellent deal.) We all went for the prix fixe; Lory and I ordered the bun (rice noodles with pork) and Julie went for the chicken terrine banh mi.

The noodles were delicious; the pork ragout was rich and meaty with a nice spicy kick (me being me, I added a bit of Sriracha to mine) balanced by the saw leaf and some of cilantro. (There was a bit too much cilantro for me, though I know other people just can't get enough.) The noodles themselves were sheets of rice noodle rolled into cigars and lightly browned. I'd never seen bun done that way, but I loved the alternately chewy, crispy and tender textures the method produced. The best part might have been the crispy shallots sprinkled all over the top - Lory and I both wanted a whole bowl of just those.

Julie's terrine was also tasty; a thoroughly respectable version of Momofuku's standard three-terrine model, this banh mi was served with the traditional herbs and carrot-and-daikon pickle. The chicken terrine was moist and really flavorful; for some reason, I was worried this would be just another grilled chicken sandwich - luckily, I was wrong!

For dessert, we each ordered a Milk Bar peanut butter cookie. These cookies were INSANE. Big, but not huge, they tasted strongly of peanut butter and had some sort of caramel swirl running through them...I'm now in desperate need of the recipe, lest I never taste anything this delicious ever again. If you have it, give it up.

I mean it.

Má Pêche
15 West 56th Street
Between 5th and 6th

The lobster roll at the end (well, middle) of the bike path.

Last weekend, I went up to Bristol, Rhode Island to visit my Aunt Cathi at her new digs smack on the water. My family are a bunch of New Englanders at heart, and it's nice to finally have a member of the parental generation back in the neighborhood (especially when she's as good a cook as Cathi happens to be).

She and my uncle are splitting their time between a fantastic condo in Bristol and a home in Dallas; I haven't seen the latest Dallas place, but I can tell you that the Bristol residence is spectacular. Downtown Bristol (the most patriotic town in American, apparently) is adorable and eminently walkable, and Cathi's condo is part of a complex made entirely of salvaged industrial buildings. The view from the pool gives you an idea of what a gorgeous spot this is:

On Saturday morning, Cathi took me on a tour of her favorite local food shopping destinations (more on those later, I promise). That afternoon, we took a (very warm) bike ride down the East Bay bike path, through Colt State Park, and on to Warren for lunch at Blount's clam shack.

We split the nine-inch lobster roll, which came with a side of fries and coleslaw. The lobster itself was great - tender, flavorful (almost definitely cooked in seawater) and cut into manageably bite-sized pieces. The bun was similarly delicious. The traditional, side-cut New England hot dog bun was toasted all over and lined with a leaf of Bibb lettuce before receiving its precious cargo. The lobster was sparingly dressed with a mild mayo, which was the only thing I would have changed. I like a bit of tang in my lobster roll, and would have killed for a squeeze of lemon or a slightly kickier sauce.

Altogether, though, there's nothing bad about this kind of reward waiting for you at the end of a bike ride - am I right?

Banh mi mania.

Once you have terrine and chicken liver pate on your hands, the next logical step is, obviously, to make some banh mi.

If you're one of the unlucky few who has yet to encounter banh mi, let me introduce you to this most delicious of sandwiches. Inspired by the various street sandwiches available in Vietnamese cities, banh mi are a perfect example of the country's fusion of Asian and French flavors. There's no standard, but most banh mi include at least one kind of charcuterie (usually either a rustic pâté or a more spreadable one), some kind of porky filling, fresh herbs, mayonnaise and pickled vegetables - all on a crusty baguette.

We based our homemade version on the recipe from Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, and tried to be enterprising with what we already had on hand.

We took our last crock of chicken liver pâté, let it come to room temperature, and mixed in a healthy dose of cinnamon. Next, we sliced some gorgeous Kirby cucumbers, made a quick pickle with daikon and carrot, and followed the cookbook's instructions for a ground pork stir fry for the filling. Finally, we sliced the terrine (one slice each was plenty).

We laid out fresh herbs (mint and cilantro - basil would have been nice, too), dished up some cornichons, and got down to the business of assembling our sandwiches.

Banh mi should be so messy that eating them in front of strangers is a bit embarrassing - and these delivered. Fatty, fragrant, fresh, crunchy, salty, sweet and meaty, they were pretty much the best sandwiches any of the three of us had ever tasted. The sheer act of eating them felt somehow debauched, given all the pork and offal on hand - not to mention the pickles, mayonnaise, and white bread.

And, frankly - we were pretty proud of ourselves for undertaking the effort at all. Banh mi is one of those recipes that require you to make at least three or four other recipes to make the whole thing happen. As Nick pointed out, it was a pretty badass attempt, and a successful one at that.

To drink alongside, we heartily recommend mint juleps - hell, you already have the mint on hand, you know?

The only change I would make next time? The addition of pickled jalapenos. I cannot believe we didn't think of it on the spot. Ah, well - an excuse to do it all over again.

Rainy travels, part four: Those Milfordites make a damn good sandwich.

Upon arrival in Pennsylvania, Hall was determined to lay his hands on a hoagie.

Remember, we all went to college together outside of Philadelphia, so we know from hoagies. There's something about a Pennsylvania-made hoagie, with its soft, chewy roll, thinly-sliced cold cuts, and slightly plasticky cheese, that just makes Hall swoon.

And so, instead of searching out any upscale options for lunch on Saturday, we headed for the nearest deli, Jorgenson's. Hall ordered a turkey hoagie, but I went for a BLT, and it turned out to be one of the best I've had in ages.

I don't know if it was the sweetness of the soft white bread, the salty, just-crisp-enough bacon, or the juicy iceberg lettuce. Who cares? Whatever it was, the alchemy of the ingredients combined to make one damn good sandwich.

Up close and personal, part two.

During our visit to Stone Barns, Cristin and I managed to cover a lot of ground. Walking to and fro across a hilly farm helps you work up an appetite, so after a visit to the lambs, ducks, geese, pigs and greenhouses, we headed to the (very, very crowded) cafe for some lunch.

After a good fifteen minutes in line (which gave us lots of time to browse the preserves, baked goods and for me to pick out my new, giant coffee mug), we made it up to the counter. We ordered salads (parsnip and beet), sandwiches (beet and bologna) and dessert (macarons) and headed for a picnic table outside.

We settled down in the shade to enjoy our booty. For me, an open-faced sandwich made with house-made bologna, pickled vegetables, and a generous slice of house-baked focaccia. The bread was spread with a rich, grainy mustard, which, together with the pickled cauliflower and carrots, contrasted gorgeously with the rich, meaty meat and the buttery bread.

On the side, I had a little of the beet salad (dressed with dill), and we both tried the cold curried parsnips - Cristin liked those more than I did, but I have to admit they were really, really interesting. Sweet and cool, but not crunchy - toothy, you might call them.

Cristin's sandwich was a winner - the same focaccia, topped with creamy goat cheese, thinly sliced beets, sauteed ramps, and a lemon vinaigrette. Stinky and pungent, thanks to the ramps, and sweet and cool, thanks to the beets. All in all, a major, major win.

For dessert, we each tried two macarons: one raspberry with chocolate filling, and one parsnip. The raspberry was a bit too sweet for either of us, and the parsnip was just kind of...there. The macarons themselves were really well done, with the perfect chewy-crunchy texture, and a beautiful sheen on them. Maybe I've just been too spoiled by Bouchon's masterpieces?

All in all, a pretty fantastic lunch. And my new coffee mug? It holds the equivalent of two normal cups of coffee, which of course means I love it. All hail the gods of caffeine!