A talent has been unleashed upon an unsuspecting world.

My friend Nick is really into cocktails these days.

Actually, wait - let me give you an idea of what it means when Nick is into something. He doesn't just do a hand-waving, half-assed exploration of a topic. Oh, no. When Nick is into something, he goes whole hog. Like the time he decided to become an expert in Web 2.0 taught himself Ruby on Rails (he's now the online media editor for a newspaper in Ohio), or the time he decided bridge was the world's classic card game and got really, really mad at me when we were partnered up and almost lost because I got silly on Manhattans. (He was making the Manhattans, by the by, and we did win, so I think it's probably time for an apology, actually.)

This tendency to go deep into a subject makes Nick really easy to shop for - he can never have enough books about the thing he's learning about, and since I love to buy books (and since he's a man with very particular tastes, which makes him scary to buy clothes for), we're a gifting match made in heaven. So, of course, this year, I gave Nick two books on cocktails (this one and this one), assuming he would be ready to help me tipple my week of vacation away with Sazeracs and Gin Fizzes.

Little did I know he'd been crafting his own signature cocktail, which he's tentatively named the "Gin"-ger Lemonade. It's ginger syrup (basically simple syrup reduced with slices of fresh ginger), gin, seltzer, lemon juice, and a mint garnish. And, holy man, is it good. (Actually, it's even good without the gin, which is saying something).

Did I mention that when Nick gets into something, he usually becomes really, really good at it?

Like your own personal, private scout.

Ever wondered if what you're looking for is available at the market? Not sure if it's too late for spring onions, or too early for really good tomatoes?

Never fear - Lucy's Greenmarket Report is here!

Lucy lives just two blocks from Union Square (color me green with envy), and scopes out the scene at the market every single morning. If it's a Monday, Wednesday, Friday or Saturday, she's out there perusing the stands, noting the wares, and heading back home to post them on her blog.

From flowers to herbs to meat to bread, if it's new or notable, Lucy will tell you about it. She's a fantastic resource for us uptowners, particularly when we're planning a dinner party and trying to figure out what we can actually count on finding at the market (rather than just buying what meets our fancy).

The first annual pork belly-off, part four: me!

For my pork belly entry, I wanted to try something truly seasonal. I've been craving watermelon, but it just never seems practical to buy a whole one just for myself, and I try my best not to buy anything that's been chopped or prepped ahead of time, when it can be helped.

So, I made Nick carry one to the car for me at the market, and we were off and running.

A couple of years ago, I went to Degustation (a nifty restaurant in the East Village with only 12 seats) and had a delicious little egg dish topped with pickled jalapeño. Ever since then, I've been looking for the perfect way to showcase the slices of tart, tangy, hot deliciousness in a dish of my own, and pork belly with watermelon salad seemed the perfect candidate.

I rubbed my slice of belly on all sides with salt and pepper and braised it for about an hour in chicken stock. Meanwhile, I mixed up a salad of cubed watermelon, lime juice, and some torn mint and basil. I put that to marinate in the fridge and set to work pickling the jalapeños.

Finally, when everything had swum in its respective juices long enough, I seared the pork belly, topped it with a few slices of pepper, and put it on the plate and surrounded it with some chopped cucumber. I strained the liquid out of the watermelon salad, tossed it with some fresh, finely chopped mint and basil, and piled it onto the belly.

Pickling is pretty basic - you blanch the veggies (a step I actually forgot about last week, which resulted in washed-out peppers) to help keep the color and prep them to absorb the pickling liquid. Then you cook up a quick formula (some combo of water, vinegar, sugar and spices) and poor it over the veggies. Canning is a whole other art; however, even without true canning, these pickles should keep in the fridge for at least a month, if not longer.

Delish!

Pickled Jalapeños

1/2 to 1 lb. jalapeño peppers
1 c. water
1 c. white vinegar
1 c. sugar
1 tbs. salt
1/4 c. assorted peppercorns (white, black, pink, green - whatever!)
1/8 c. coriander seeds
1 tbs. mustard seeds
1 bay leaf

Set a medium saucepan of water to boil and fill a medium bowl with water and ice. In the meantime, slice the jalapeños cross-wise into 1/8 to 1/4 inch rounds, discarding the stems. Blanch the peppers in the boiling water for about a minute, then, using a slotted spoon, transfer to the ice water to cool. Once cool, use the slotted spoon to transfer them to a clean, 1 liter Mason jar.

Rinse the saucepan (watch out - the steam is full of jalapeño oil and can sting your eyes) and return to the stovetop. Add the water, vinegar, sugar and salt to the pot and bring to a boil, stirring till the sugar is completely dissolved and the liquid is clear.

Add the remaining ingredients to the vinegar mix and stir for about a minute. Turn the heat off and ladle the liquid and spices into the mason jar, covering the jalapeños. Allow to cool on the counter for about an hour before sealing and storing in the fridge.

The jalapenos are great with pork belly and watermelon salad, but also on sandwiches or homemade pizza, in guacamole, or as a tiny, tart, spicy snack!

Cocktails tomorrow, cocktails yesterday - and, yes, damn it, cocktails today!*

Serious Eats just pointed me to a fabulous blog called The Cocktail Chronicles.

It's chock full of history, recipes and general musings about cocktails and the bartending/mixology world. Tons of fun for this beginning, amateur mixologist, and I thought you would all enjoy it, too.


*With apologies to Lewis Carroll and Carol Channing, both.

The first annual pork belly-off, part three: Louisa's book.

So, some very exciting news came out today...my best friend, Louisa, hostess of the pork belly-off and romance novelist extraordinaire, has gotten her first book deal! It's for a series of romance novels set in the New York restaurant scene, and her publisher wants them to have actual recipes in them!

So, of course, we spent a good amount of time this week working on recipes for food and cocktails (more on that later). An autumnal pork belly dish figures into the plot of the first novel, and Louisa thought it would be cool to serve the pork belly with what a pig (in an ideal world) would eat - apples and walnuts.

First, she braised the pork belly in cider (with a little cinnamon and nutmeg added for extra kick), then seared it on all sides. Meanwhile, she improvised a recipe for candied walnuts, using ginger syrup and cayenne, among other delicious things. She spread the walnuts on a parchment-covered cookie sheet and baked them till they were crisp and dark brown.

Finally, she cut a Granny Smith apple into batons, placed the pork belly on top, and spread the walnuts around. The cold apples and hot pork belly were a great combination, but probably not as sophisticated as she's looking for - we talked about making an apple sauce and walnut butter and sprinkling chopped candied walnuts on top - but it's a work in progress, after all.

Either way, I was a happy eater.

The first annual pork belly-off, part two: Louisa.

Louisa's vision for her piece of pork belly (the one that wasn't being made strictly for professional reasons) was a barbecue-esque one. Pork belly glazed with a maple-bourbon sauce, served atop a lemony, minty coleslaw.

She braised the pork belly while her glaze (maple syrup, bourbon, cider vinegar) reduced on the stove. When it was time to sear the belly, she glazed the top with the sauce - which promptly hardened to a soft, toffee-like consistency. Not exactly what she was going for, but man, was it good.

The slaw, crunchy and fresh, cut through the rich, sweet glaze and the meaty pork belly. In future incarnations, Louisa plans to thin out the glaze a bit, maybe with milk or a little butter - any suggestions?

The first annual pork belly-off, part one: Nick.

Three cooks, one afternoon, a half pound of pork belly - what could go possibly be bad about that?

Nothing, as it turns out.

I'm spending the week in Ohio, visiting my friends Nick and Louisa, and just generally enjoying driving in a car that isn't a cab, playing with their (adorable) dog, and sleeping till 8:30 every single morning (late enough to fee luxurious, early enough not to feel lazy). When I got off the plane on Saturday afternoon, they promptly informed me that we would be making at least one stop before heading home - Cleveland's West Side market, where we would be buying provisions for the week.

The West Side market is great - huge, full of good (if not always local or seasonal) produce, and the inside is a sea of butchers, fishmongers, bakeries and prepared foods vendors. You can find whole lambs, whole goats, liver, chicken, Cornish pasties, hummus - you name it.

Louisa mentioned that we should be on the lookout for pork belly, since a recipe for it figures heavily into the novel she's working on right now (She's a romance novelist - cool, right?). When we did find the pork belly, we suddenly thought, hey - why not really go to town? It was decided that each of us would get a portion of pork belly to experiment with, plus an additional piece for Louisa to play with for the book-related dish. We each had totally different takes on the belly, and when we got home, we got down to business.

First up, Nick's version.


When he was growing up in California, Nick's mom would make a breaded pork chop dish that he just loved, loved, loved. Couldn't get enough. And he still loves a breaded chop - wiener schnitzel, veal milanese, you name it. So Nick decided to do a riff on a traditional milanese.

He braised the pork belly in chicken stock for an hour and a half, then seared it on sides. Served alongside was a tomato and arugula Napoleon. He sliced the tomato, sprinkled it with a bit of salt, some sugar, topped each slice with a pat of butter and lightly broiled them. Next, he brushed them with some reduced balsamic and stacked them, alternating tomato slices with leaves of baby arugula. The topmost tomato slice was sprinkled with bread crumbs and broiled once more to make it nice and brown and crispy. (Get it? The bread crumbs replaced the breading typically found on the veal!)

Finally, to incorporate the traditional lemony dressing, he made a lemon compote with some toasted cracked black peppercorns stirred in.

It was a gorgeous dish - beautifully presented, and really very tasty. We decided the bread crumbs could use a bit more binding, and that the lemon compote (which was super-tart and VERY lemony) could be used more sparingly. But, for a first outing, a phenomenal job.

Next up, Louisa's candied, boozy take on pork belly.