Um, hi!

Hello, my darlings, my doves, my gentle readers. I know, I know - it's been ages. In my defense, the last couple of months have been among the busiest in recent memory, complete with 16 hour workdays, two weeks in Austin, a quick business trip to Chiacgo...and so on.

But, but, but! I had no intention of abandoning you, and I have every intention of putting things right. With that in mind, here are a couple of the remarkably delicious things I've enjoyed over the last ten weeks, along with a promise: I'll be back soon in full force.

Honest.

 Three pea salad from Ottolenghi's Plenty.

 

 

Shrimp mole from Frontera Grill in Chicago.

Plateau de fruits de la mer at Clark's in Austin.

Antonelli's Cheese Shop in Austin.

Rib-eye fried rice at Elizabeth Street Cafe in Austin.

Chicken salad sandwich with gribenes and homemade pickles at Mile End Sandwich Shop.

A breakfast. Or two.

My last two mornings in Austin were, as always, bittersweet. There's something about those last couple of days of vacation that shock you into doing really wonderful things (long walks along Town Lake with the dogs, grabbing breakfast tacos with your best friend, lounging by the pool with a cocktail) instead of messing about with shopping or doing anything that requires you to adhere to a schedule.

The last two days of this trip were particularly so, because Louisa introduced me to a seriously amazing thing: breakfast at the Elizabeth Street Café.

Elizabeth Street is a French Vietnamese restaurant and boulangerie, and they serve three meals a day, seven days a week - not to mention coffee and pastries to go at any hour. It's a delightfully airy space, all black and white tile on the floor, calming white on the walls, and pops of teal in the banquette and chairs. Saigon and Paris mix in the space as well as in the food: cane chairs, burnished metalwork edging the communal table and a giant fern bring Vietnam, while white-painted wrought iron and black-and-white striped Louis XVI chairs bring the France.

The coffee - I chose French press both mornings - is fantastic. I was unsurprised to discover it was Stumptown, and couldn't help but enjoy upwards of three cups per visit. So sue me.

And then, of course, there's the food. You can order a pastry (Nick loved his almond croissant) or a French crepe, but I went savory and Vietnamese both mornings, figuring it was the best way to use my limited visits. My first choice: Saigon noodles with peppers, roast pork and fried eggs. The noodles were short, skinny and full of delicious curried flavor. The roast pork was rich and tender, with a wonderful balance of sweet and savory. The eggs were just runny enough to sauce things up, especially when I added a dollop of hoisin and a squirt of fish sauce. And man alive, were they spicy.

That first morning, we gathered up a few pastries to try later, at home. I snagged a butter croissant, a Nutella éclair, and a canelé. I really enjoyed the croissant, which was flaky enough to be authentic, but not so flaky that ended up wearing it. The butter was sweet, the pastry was tender, and the whole thing was just about perfect smeared with some strawberry jam.

The éclair was good, but not great. The filling was straight-up Nutella, so it was an incredibly rich treat, and I loved the hazelnuts on top. But the pastry was a bit gummy - possibly my fault for letting it sit for a few hours before enjoying it.

The canelé, while awfully pretty, was disappointing. It was undercooked, with a not-crunchy-enough exterior and a too-gummy interior. The vanilla flavor was nice, though, and canelés are super tricky to make, so these could definitely improve with time.

All canelé-related sins were forgiven the next morning, though, when we returned for breakfast number two. I ordered the sticky rice with poached eggs and ginger pork sausage. This bowl of perfect goodness arrived, topped with a tarragon and parsley salad. The eggs were perfectly poached, and their yolks mixed with the hot sauce on top of the rice to make a rich, tangy sauce. The pork sausage patties were spicy in both senses - gingery and hot. An ideal bite included a little of everything, and was, truly, perfect.

So, you know: go to there.

Elizabeth Street Café
1501 South First Street
Austin, Texas

Pho-licious.

Last Friday, I met my friend Miya and her adorable daughter Emi down in Chinatown. Our goal: enjoy some tasty, nourishing pho. Miya's a vegetarian, and my friend Rich (who has excellent taste) had recommended the veggie pho at Nam Son, so that's where we went. And boy, was he right.

I ordered the pho with top round, brisket and tendon, while Miya went for veggie with veggie broth. Both were about six bucks, making them the most ridiculous bargains available. Seriously, these were huge bowls of soup. And they were oh-so-tasty.

My beef pho had a traditional, spice-scented broth. The clove and anise came through loud and clear, emphasized by the rich beefiness of the soup. One of the things I love about broth is the way it can be so rich and yet almost completely devoid of fat. It sucks all the flavor out of the bones and becomes something entirely new. It's almost alchemy.

When it came to the meat, I was particularly fond of the tender brisket. It practially melted in my mouth, and was full to bursting with beef flavor. The tendon wasn't bad, but there was a bit much of it for my taste. I'd much rather have had double the brisket and half the tendon. One only needs so much chewiness. And the noodles were pretty good, too - firm enough to stand up to the hot soup, but still tender.

Miya's veggie version was no slouch, either. Absolutely chock full of veggies and tofu, it was quite a sight to see. We got to work doctoring our bowls with hoisin sauce, Sriracha (for me; none for Miya, since Emi was sharing her noodles), bean sprouts and Thai basil. The doctoring might be the best part, actually - working for your supper, as it were.

Nam Son
245 Grand Street (Between Chrystie and Bowery)
212.966.6507‎

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

Party hearty.

My friend Faith was an incredible hostess during my week in San Francisco, so I had to do something to thank her. That something turned out to be dinner at The Slanted Door, a legendary Vietnamese restaurant that moved from Valencia Street to the Ferry Building a few years back.

Loyal readers and friends know that I have a weakness for Asian food, and that Vietnamese is my favorite of the bunch. I love the combination of Asian and Western flavors, and, in particular, the melding of French and Vietnamese techniques. The banhi mi is a classic example, with its French baguette and charcuterie paired with Asian herbs, pickles and sauces. I haven't eaten a lot of haute Vietnamese in my day, so I was very excited to try The Slanted Door.

You enter the restaurant through a door on the pier, just down the dock from where commuters flow onto ferries to Tiburon, Sausalito and other parts North, East and South. We arrived fairly early, just as sunset was kicking in, and the view across the bay was crystal clear and painted with golden light. The restaurant was fully-booked, so we decided to order a cocktail and wait for two stools to free up at the bar. I went for a Pimm's Cup, which turned out to be delicious and not at all lacking in cucumber.

Once we'd snagged seats, we ordered a load of food and sat back to enjoy the parade. First up, crispy imperial rolls, strongly recommended by my friend YaeRi. Filled with shrimp, pork, peanuts and noodles, they were rich and a bit heavy, but served with steamed noodles, lettuce leaves and the omnipresent nuoc cham sauce (fish sauce, sugar, and pickled vegetables), all of which lent a contrast in texture and lightened the rolls considerably.

Next up, the salt and pepper quail. I have to confess, I ordered these mostly to get at the pickled cucumbers with which they were served - never a good move. The quail was tasty enough, but nothing to write home (or to the internets) about. I didn't dislike it, but I wouldn't order it again.

Next, the jicama, cabbage and grapefruit salad. We LOVED this. Or, I should say - Faith LOVED this, and I would have LOVED it if it hadn't been quite so chockful of cilantro. I am one of those genetic unfortunates for whom the flavor of large amounts of cilantro is closer to dirty dishwater than it is to anything herbal, and there was a lot of cilantro in this salad. The cilantro-free bites I managed to concoct were absolutely delicious, though. I especially liked the combination of the tart grapefruit with the candied pecans - heavenly.

For our main course, we ordered a Slanted Door classic, the shaking beef. Made with filet, it rises far above the (still delicious) shaking beefs I've had. The beef is cooked in the wok with red onions and watercress and served with a citrus sauce on the side (you're meant to pore the sauce over the beef - or dip, if you like). Citrus and beef are an unsual combination in most Western food, but I find that I really enjoy them together. The acid in the fruit cuts right through the fattiness of the meat, brightening the flavor and creating a bit of a part in your mouth.

And I do like a party.

The Slanted Door
1 Ferry Building, #3
San Francisco, California
415.861.8032

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.

Vietnamese penicillin.

Last night, my friends Lisa, Cristin and I headed downtown for a night of girl talk, Vietnamese food, and showtunes. Where the girl talk originated is easy enough to determine, I suppose - the Vietnamese food we found in Chinatown, and the showtunes at a West Village piano bar called Marie's Crisis.

Girl talk and show tunes are all well and good, but what I really want to talk about tonight is pho. Pronounced "fuh," it's considered by many to be the national dish of Vietnam. It's a noodle soup, traditionally with a beef broth, served with piles of fresh herbs, a few citrus wedges, and lots and lots of hot sauce on the side.

Chinatown boasts many Vietnamese restaurants, and there are endless opinions on where the neighborhood's best pho is to be found (See, for example, this eGullet discussion on the topic.). Since I didn't want to determine my companions' meals ahead of time, I thought we'd better head for somewhere where more than just the pho could be vouched for, so we picked Pho Viet Huong on Mulberry, just south of Canal.

We started with some excellent barbecue beef rolls - hot, grilled beef wrapped with lettuce, mint and cilantro - and great spring rolls, hot, bubbly, and bursting with porky, mushroomy flavor. And then, three steaming bowls of pho arrived at the table.

I dosed mine with plenty of Sriracha and dug in, chopsticks in one hand and soup spoon in the other. The broth was fragrant, and there were enough tender rice noodles to feed three Queenies. I ordered a pork version, and the slices of meat bobbed amidst the herbs, just waiting for an extra little dab of hot sauce. Paired with a bottle of Saigon Export, there simply could not be a better cold-weather meal.