Where everybody knows your na-a-ame.

Ouest is one of those lucky Manhattan restaurants that has managed to become an institution by virtue both of location (in that there's practically nothing else like it in the area - not a huge feat in the West '80's) and the quality of its food. I've eaten there upwards of 30 times over the last three years, and the meals have never been less than very good, and have sometimes verged on excellent.

Over the last year or so, my favorite spot in this "restaurant and tavern" has been the latter: eating dinner at the bar (either alone or with friends) is great fun, particularly if you manage to linger late over a glass of wine. Around 11:00, the bartenders turn just a bit raunchy, the television is turned to AMC, and talk turns to old movies and slightly dirty jokes. (Do try and avoid the slightly skeezy older gentlemen customers who linger on weeknights, however - they managed to waylay a friend of mine for almost two hours back in December, when her faculties had been compromised by too much wine at dinner.) Settle back into your red leather bar stool and relax.

My meal last Saturday ended just that way. It started with an aborted attempt to eat pasta up at Celeste on Amsterdam and 83rd. The half hour-long wait (and no bar at which to pass the time) drove me and my friends Cristin and Paul down to Broadway to grab a drink at Ouest's bar. When we all ordered glasses of the Ex Libris Cabernet, the bartender suggested a bottle. An hour's drinking later, we had finally snagged three seats at the bar and opened our menus.

Ouest serves what may well be the best green salad in the city. Large lettuces mix with small in a generous pile (portions at Ouest are never less than big), lightly tossed in a red wine vinegar dressing, its tang softened by the salty, umami flavor of the Parmesan. The cheese is emulsified into the dressing, so it coats each green, making their surfaces just slightly rough on the tongue. I'm a sucker for a salad, and this is one of the best, hands-down.

In December, I started with the smoked duck and crispy egg, another strong choice. The egg arrives atop paper-thin slices of smoked duck, coated in a crispy batter. A poke releases the yoke, which oozes out slowly, moistening the dish. The egg's crunchy exterior contrasts with the duck's meaty texture, but the flavors, all rich, eggy smoke, meld together.

On both visits, I had the squab for my main plate. It's pan-roasted and served with a duck liver risotto. The squab itself is lovely - more delicate than gamy - and the risotto is rich and earthy, topped with crispy chanterelles that offset the creamy texture.

Ouest's menu is particularly heavy on the game (venison, squab, rabbit) and organ meat (liver, braised tripe), and is not at all vegetarian-friendly (though it boasts some very nice seafood plates). Overall, the food is rich and heavy - comfort food. This is not the place to come for a light meal - even the simple grills are imposing in size. The prices reflect the generous portions; dinner with wine has rarely run me less than $80 per person, though I find it's typically worthwhile.

And, toward the end of the evening, if you're an entertaining guest, my guess is that Sid or Dan will top your glass off a few times for your trouble.

Ouest
2315 Broadway
Between 83rd and 84th Streets
212.580.8700

Cocktail hour.

My love for the bar at Ouest is well-documented. The affair continued this weekend, when I met my friend Cristin there for a drink and an early dinner. Dinner was, as usual, delicious (I swear I'd sell my soul for that green salad.), but my favorite part of the evening was cocktails and gougères.

Ouest always has at least one signature brown-spirit cocktail on their menu, and their latest and greatest is the Watson, a riff on the Manhattan made with brown butter-infused (YES, you read that right.) bourbon, a dash of sweet vermouth, and an orange peel. Round, nutty, smoky perfection. (By the way, check out this interview with Eben Freeman to find out the trick of infusing liquor with fatty flavor, minus the grease.)

And, right alongside, a sizable basket of the house gougères, ripe with stinky cheese and speckled with black pepper. If you still need to be convinced of a reason to eat at the bar, these ought to do the trick. And if you're sweet, Seth might snag you a few extra when they come out of the oven.

Ouest
2315 Broadway
Between 83rd and 84th Streets
212.580.8700

A festive (if delayed) repast.

When you have a group of 10 for Christmas, there's only so much cooking you can handle. That's why, for dinner on Christmas Eve, my motley crew of family and friends headed to one of my favorite, most reliable spots: Ouest.

We arrived a bit early and ordered a round of drinks. Sadly, the bar was out of the brown butter-infused bourbon I'd so enjoyed a couple of weeks ago, so I ordered a plain old Manhattan, straight up. Nick sprang for the Oue-side, a new sidecar variation that turned out to be a bit too sweet - sad, too as it's so awfully pretty (evidence above).

Our table for 10 wasn't ready until almost forty-five minutes after our reservation time, which was a problem mostly because we had a church service to make later in the evening. However, despite this snafu, I have to commend Ouest's staff for whisking us through dinner without sacrificing quality of food or service - and for buying our wine and desserts. They definitely made up for the issue.

The most popular first course at the table (I think three of us ordered it) was a new menu item. It's a bone marrow dish, but one unlike any I've had before. The bone marrow was removed from the bone and seared, which turned it into a crisped nugget of gooey goodness, and the bone was filled with a creamy, sweet short rib and onion marmalade. While I still see a place for the traditional bone marrow and parsley combo, I have to say that this version was absolutely delicious.

Jeremy ordered one of my long-time favorites, a crispy duck egg served atop a few razor-thin slices of smoked duck breast, some greens and a healthy dose of aioli. Crunchy, meaty, smoky and garlicky, it's a dish that simultaneously satisfies multiple cravings.

For my main, I went with another old standby - the squab with duck liver risotto. It it always fantastic, and Christmas Eve was no exception. The squab was perfectly cooked to a tender medium-rare, and the risotto was creamy but retained that essential bite - after all, it's not porridge, people!

Many folks stayed for dessert, but I and a few others hopped up and out to make it to church on time (I go twice a year, so it doesn't do to walk in late, you know?). Marrow, squab and Christmas carols - what more could a girl want?

It truly is sweet to do nothing.

A few years ago, I went out to dinner at Ouest with my friends Nick and Louisa. After a thoroughly delicious meal (I can still remember my first taste of the cauliflower custard with parmesan and lobster meat), dessert seemed a lost cause. Nick, always thinking, ordered us a bottle of Far Niente's Dolce. From the first sip, I was entranced. Here was an American wine that rivaled the great Sauternes, ripe with noble rot and sweet as honey.

And so when my mother and I were planning our trip to Napa, I insisted we make a pilgrimage to the home of my favorite dessert wine. Mom was game, particularly given her love for Far Niente's Cabernet Sauvignon. She still tells the story of how she bought a case of it back in the 1980's, and how the single bottle she has left, for which she paid about $10, is now worth about $200. She would return to the vineyard a triumphant collector, and I would get to taste Dolce at its source.

Far Niente was our first stop, and I drove at breakneck speed from Fresno to ensure we wouldn't miss a single minute of the visit. We ended up only missing about 10 minutes, not a bad showing, and joined our tour group on the balcony overlooking the fields and Route 29 beyond them. Far Niente's grounds are exquisite, lush with gardens and fountains, and the view was breathtaking.

From the balcony, we headed down into the cool quiet of the cellars, where we walked past yards and yards of French oak barrels, inside which the precious Cabernet sat, aging to perfection. The winemakers test the wine periodically as it ages, and little dribbles of red stain the barrels. The solution? Paint the barrels evenly with the wine, creating a soft red stripe down the middle of each. The wine ages the barrels, and the barrels age the wine.

On our walk to the wine library, we paused in front of a wrought-iron gate decorated with a golden sign - just beyond lay barrels of Dolce. So close, yet so far!

Once we had seen the library, we trooped back up the stairs to the main reception area, where a long oak table was set with ten places, each with a plate of three cheeses and five glasses. The tasting started with two Chardonnays, one from 2004 and the other from 2005. I preferred the 2004, which was a slightly richer, warmer wine. Both were paired with an Abbaye de Belloc, a French sheep's milk cheese whose caramel flavor went beautifully with the Chardonnays.


Next up, two Cabernet Sauvignons, one from 1998 and the other from 2004. I preferred the 2004 this time around as well. It was smoother and a little less spicy, but still round and full. The Cabernets were paired with a San Joacquin Gold, a creamy, rich cow's milk cheese.

Finally, and most delightfully, the freshly chilled bottle of 2003 Dolce was opened and poured into our waiting glasses. Dolce is a gorgeous honey color, thick-but-not-syrupy in the manner of the best dessert wines, like a good muscat, but redolent of noble rot, like a Sauternes. Far Niente paired the wine with a Bleu d'Auvergne, my most favorite blue cheese. It comes from the Auvergne region of France, and its flavor is strong, robust, but not overpowering - the perfect compliment to the slightly mouldering wine. Yum. And oh-so-pretty.

All in all, a wonderful visit, capped off with a significant purchase of Cabernet, Chardonnay - and, let's not forget, the Dolce. I bought two 375 ml. bottles for my own cellar.

Who wants to come over for dinner?

Diving in.

I've always been a bit leery of lentils. My family was not a legume-friendly one; aside from my mother's fantabulous baked beans (the woman was born in Boston, after all), I can't recall seeing beans on the table at all during my childhood. (This excludes string beans and haricots verts, both of which appeared with wonderful and delicious frequency.)

But in the last few years, I've become more bean-friendly. Until the last few months, my forays into beantown have been limited to the restaurant-and-friends'-houses sphere, but I've been branching out. You no doubt recall the chickpea stew I made approximately eight zillion times last winter and spring. My most recent adventure has been lentils.

It all started at Ouest (as many things do), where I had a dish served atop a bed of mustardy lentils. They were marvelous - firm, rich, a bit toothy. Nothing like the mushy mess I have to admit I'd been expecting. And I resolved then and there to eat more of them.

I've been hoarding lentil recipes for ages, but until Fairway opened in the neighborhood a few weeks ago, I had no luck finding the green, French variety everyone in the know had told me to use. Fancy Gallic lentils in hand, I finally got down to business. I set about making a warm lentil salad with bacon, sherry vinegar and leeks. Some of my favorite things.

The whole thing took about 30 minutes start to finish, and was well worth the effort. I worked off of this recipe, adding a bit of the spinach to the cooking vegetables and a bit more vinegar than called for. I was liberal with the salt and pepper (as one must be when dealing with legumes) and pondered - but ultimately rejected - the notion of adding a bit of mustard to the pan. (I think you should totally try it.)

I have deemed lentils a success. Good thing I have the better part of a sack of them in the pantry.

Warm Lentil Salad with Bacon and an Egg
Adapted from Gourmet

1/3 cup French green lentils
3 oz. slab bacon, cut into 1/4-inch batons
1 leek, white and pale green parts only, finely chopped*
1 small carrot, peeled and finely chopped
1 celery rib, finely chopped
2 tbs. sherry vinegar
1 tbs. finely chopped thyme
1 cup baby spinach
Olive oil
2 large eggs
Kosher salt and finely ground black pepper, to taste

Place the lentils in a saucepan and cover with two inches of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat. Simmer the lentils, uncovered, for 20 minutes. Drain in a mesh sieve and set aside.

Meanwhile, place a large skillet (I used my 10-incher) over high heat until pretty darn hot. Add the bacon, then reduce heat to medium-high. Cook bacon until most of the fat is rendered and the batons are brown but still a bit meaty. Remove to paper towels to drain. Pour off all but a fine coating of the bacon fat and turn the heat to medium.

Add the leeks, carrots and celery to the pan and salt and pepper them a bit. Cook them until they're tender but not yet brown. Add the vinegar and boil until most of the liquid has evaporated. Stir in the thyme and baby spinach and cook for a minute or two, then stir the bacon back in. Remove from the heat, salt and pepper to taste, and set aside - covered to keep warm - while you prepare the eggs.

In a small skillet, fry the eggs one at a time over gentle heat, until the whites are set but the yolks are still a bit runny. (If salmonella is an issue in your area, use pasteurized eggs or cook until yolks are firm.) Divide the salad between two plates, then top with the eggs. Add another sprinkle of salt and pepper and serve immediately.

Salad, without eggs, keeps nicely in the fridge for a couple of days. Bring to room temperature or warm gently in a skillet before serving.

Serves two.

*To clean the leek, first chop it, then placed the chopped leek into a bowl filled with cold water. Agitate a bit with your hand and let sit for several minutes. The dirt and grit will fall away. Remove the leeks from the bowl with your hand or a slotted spoon and place on paper towels to dry.

Free theatre = excuse to spend money on dinner.

In case you weren't one of the 100 people I invited on Facebook, or the other 50 I invited via email, I thought it important to let you know that the event of the season is taking place this weekend on the Upper West Side.

That's right - Babel Theatre Project's second annual readings festival, entitled Groundwork, kicks off on January 24th. Six plays in two days, all TOTALLY FREE. (Details on the plays can be found on Babel's website.) Since you're getting two full afternoons of free theatre, I'm thinking you can probably also hit one of these neighborhood spots for dinner, right?

• Ouest (83rd & Broadway)
• Dovetail (77th between Columbus & Amsterdam)
• Pasha (71st between Columbus & Central Park West)
• Barcibo Enoteca (69th & Broadway)
• Shake Shack (77th & Columbus)
  

A most excellent feast.

In October 2005, two of my very best friends in the world married one another, picked up, and moved to a ridiculously affordable house in Ohio. Sad as this makes me, it means that their visits to New York are super-special times for me, and their most recent visit, about three weeks back, was a blur of good times, wonderful company, and fabulous food.

On Friday night, Nick and Louisa (For those are their names!) visited Ouest (you can read Louisa's thoughts about their former neighborhood haunt here), and on Saturday night, we met up for a 9:45 reservation at Per Se. After hugs and kisses over fizzy water in the lounge (not the bar, ahem), we were seated promptly (a few minutes early, to tell the truth) at a table next to the window.

I'll start by telling you about the service, which was really quite fantastic. Gracious, attentive, and good-humored, they became more familiar (one server, a woman, saw me grinning at my foie gras and said, "I know! Isn't it exciting?") as they sensed our openness to it, and chatted with us about the wine, the petit fours, and the copies of the menu I requested toward the end of the night. The room itself is subdued, all earth tones and widely spaced tables, with the emphasis on the view of the Columbus Circle fountain four stories below, and the twinkling lamplights of Central Park beyond.

And now for the food.

Nick and I ordered the Chef's Tasting Menu, and Louisa opted for the Tasting of Vegetables. Our amuses were the trademark tuile cones; mine was filled with red onion crème fraiche and topped with a scoop of smoked salmon, and Louisa's was beets with eggplant caviar. The salmon was chopped so fine that it was almost a paste - but still made up of separate, luscious bits - and the rich, tangy crème fraiche set it off marvelously, helped along by the delicate crunch of the tuile.

Next up, another of Keller's famous dishes, "Oysters and Pearls," a sabayon of pearl tapioca with oysters and white sturgeon caviar. This dish, which I've heard described as tasting like "salty butter," was wonderful. The different textures contrasted nicely (the tapioca here is larger, similar to the bubbles in bubble tea), and the caviar was subtly salty and rich. It's a soup course, though in reality it's more a puddingy chowder.

The "salad" course was a terrine of foie gras served with a peach gelee and some other little goodies, including almonds, pickled ramps, piquillo peppers, and a beautiful slice of toasted brioche, eggy and fragrant. The texture of this terrine was, as expected of any Keller dish, refined and silky smooth. The flavor, intense, was nicely offset by the accompaniments, the ramps (I do love pickled onions) and peppers (ditto) in particular.

I was not looking forward to the first fish course, since I really just am not a big fish eater. I love my shellfish and crustaceans, but the scaly guys have never done it for me, particularly when cooked. This one, Pacific orange marlin served a la plancha (simply seared on a flat grill) with a curry-infused oil, sounded particularly icky to me (I'm not a big curry fan, either). I was soooo wrong. The fish, meaty and tender, was like a mild (I know, MILD?) tuna, and the tiniest hint of curry was actually light and refreshing. Big thumbs up.

Second fish course: butter poached lobster paired with two of the best things springtime has to offer - asparagus and morels. There's not a lot to say about this other than that butter-poached lobster is succulent, sinful, and right up my alley.

The poultry course was poussin served with turnips, kohlrabi and apples. Very good, every ingredient shining through, and very much a chicken dish - not dull - I do love chicken - but not as standout as the others.

For our meat course, Nick and I both chose the degustation of lamb (poor planning on our part, I suppose), which was very interesting. A little tour of the lamb, it featured, among other cuts, belly, shoulder (my favorite), chop, and rillettes. The peas and radishes alongside (again, the bounty of spring was everywhere) were sharp, crisp contrasts to the ever-so-slightly gamey meat.

Next, the cheese course. I feel about cheese the way I feel about fish - I love some cheeses, but I can leave about 75% of them. This one was no exception. It was a Chabichou (soft, rindless unpasteurized goat cheese), served with tapenade and artichokes (another two things I could really do without). If you love salty, olive-y things, this is for you. It was not for me. Louisa's cheese, a double-cream cheese from Sweet Grass Dairy, was. It came with pickled strawberries, and the sweet, slightly sour strawberries blended marvelously with the sinfully rich cheese.

Finally, dessert. The first of the two dessert courses (not counting the truffles, petit fours and macarons that came after) was where Nick and I found our strawberries. We had strawberry sorbet with balsamic vinegar and black pepper - wonderful, cool, and refreshing, especially after the cheese. Second, a chocolate brownie (this is, before anything, a very American restaurant) with ganache, coffee cream, and coffee ice cream. The coffee ice cream was bitter, so much so that it tasted like a skunk smells (Nick and Lou concurred, so I'm not crazy), but not in a bad way (really).

In the end, I was thrilled at the meal we had (and I didn't even talk about the wines, which were wonderful - Nick chose, so perhaps he will log on and enlighten us). The parade of food never felt like too much, and came slowly but steadily enough to keep us entertained but not straining to get the bites down. Treated with the kid gloves of classic French techniques, the flavors of every ingredient sang, creating a symphony of fresh, pure American food music. It absolutely ranked among the best meals I've had in my life, at any price point, and I am so glad we went.

After dessert, it was a double espresso, truffles, petit fours, and a package of macarons from Bouchon Bakery (vanilla, carrot cake, and pistachio) for the road. We toddled out, retrieved my menus, and had a bit of trouble with the sliding glass doors - turns out, we weren't befuddled by our excellent feast so much as we were the last people in a locked restaurant.

Per Se
Time Warner Center, 10 Columbus Circle
Broadway and 60th Street

Photos courtesy of Kiplog.com.

Even better than hair of the dog.

Those who follow me on Twitter may recall that I had cocktails at Ouest on Thursday night, and that they were, well, HUGE. Now, I love a good cocktail, and, occasionally, I love a big cocktail - though it's probably best for me to avoid the latter when I've not had dinner.

I was surprised by how affected I was by the two Manhattans - so surprised that I stayed up till 1:30, amused by the fact that I was, to put it frankly, still tipsy. Needless to say, when I woke up on Friday, I was a bit out of sorts.

The solution? A homemade version of every lush's best friend: the fried egg sandwich.

I toasted a crumpet and spread it with a bit of Wednesday's homemade mayonnaise. Then, I fried up a couple of slices of slab bacon. I topped those off with a fried Knoll Crest egg (sunny side up, thanks), sprinkled some chives over the whole bit, and plopped down to enjoy it all with an ice cold Diet Coke.

It cured what ailed me.

No kitchen nightmare, this.

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Cristin called me up and asked if I was busy one impending Friday night. I had some vague, misty plans, which promptly blew aside when she mentioned what she was calling about - for her birthday gift, her lovely boyfriend Paul had booked the chef's table at Gordon Ramsay at the London. Buh-bye, half-laid plans; hello nine-course dinner!

The nine lucky guests gathered in the bar just ahead of our 8 PM reservation. Our cast of characters for the evening:

Cristin, the birthday girl
Paul, the generous host
Connie, Cristin's oldest friend
Dan, Connie's husband and dog walker
Jasmine, a colleague of Cristin's
John, Jasmine's husband
Priya, another colleague of Cristin's, and quite the foodie in her own right
Rohit, Priya's husband, a devotee of sweet and fortified wines
Me!

After a cocktail in the bar (a glass of Ayala brut for me, my absolute favorite champagne from my trip last fall, and rarely to be found here in the States), we trouped back through the dining room, down a long, narrow hallway lined with wine refrigeration, and into the hot, bustling kitchen.

We were seated at a stainless steel horseshoe-shaped table facing the pass, and since the table and its banquette were raised a couple of feet off the floor, we had a clear view of the entire kitchen, all the way down to the end where the food for the more casual restaurant, Maze, is prepared. The pass was directly in front of us, so we had a front-row seat to the executive and sous-chef's doings all night long.

The meal was one of the longest I've ever had, with eleven courses spread over four and a half hours. There were canapes, two dishes featuring foie gras, three fish courses, and three desserts (not counting the cheese or the petits fours). Each course was paired with a different wine, starting with champagne and finishing with a sherry from 1971 (the birthday girl's birth year, it's worth noting).

Each course was introduced by the cook responsible for it - the guy working the fish line introduced the scallops, the cold appetizer guy told us all about the crudo, and the grill cook told us all about our filet, and the most adorable (and patient) captain painstakingly carved and served our cheese course.

For me, the highlights of the meal were the crudo and the quail. Well, those and watching Cristin learn from the pastry chef how to make a souffle. But first things first: that crudo. Delicate circles of pale swordfish and flushed tuna were served with paper-thin slices of cucumber - the crisp cucumber added some crunch to the fleshy, unctuous fish, and the soya dressing added a hint of richness. The dish was satisfying but light, substantial but ethereal. Really, really well done.

Quail and liver make a classic pair - Ouest serves roasted quail with a side of duck liver risotto, and dinner party hosts have been impressing their quests with quail stuffed with foie gras for years now. Both represent impractical luxury at its finest - quail with its tiny bones and little bitty pieces of meat, and foie gras with its time- and care-intensive production - and both are delectably, delicately rich. This presentation was no exception - a seared leg of quail flavored with honey and soy was presented atop a sweet-and-savory pear chutney (fall creeping into the menu there), alongside a seared lobe of foie gras. We eaters were left to mix and match meat and liver to our hearts' content.

Once we'd made it through the savory courses (save the cheese), the smokers declared it was time for a break, and the rest of us started poking around the kitchen. Josh, the executive chef, took Cristin back to the pastry station, where the pastry chef and his assistant taught her all about the fine art of souffle-making (whipping the egg whites, folding in the sugar, and so on). She very much enjoyed the lesson, which she attended under Gordon's watchful eye - you know what they say: if you can't be there, a wire sculpture of your imposing mug is the next best thing.

Chef's Table
Gordon Ramsay at The London
September 28, 2007
Photos of the full menu

Selection of canapes
~
Melon sorbet with watermelon, blood orange and tomato
~
Confit of Hudson Valley foie gras with slow-cooked free-range chicken
and micro green herb salad
Joh. Jos. Prum, Graacher Himmelreich, Mosel 2004
~
Carpaccio of swordfish and tuna with cucumber, herb salad and soya dressing
Riesling Rosenbourg, Paul Blanck 2004
~
Hand-dived scallops roasted with spices, golden raisin puree
and cauliflower beignets
Alex Gambal Chassagne-Montrachet 2003
~
Braised Pacific halibut larded with smoked salmon,
Romaine hearts, artichokes and marinated lemon, served with
smoked horseradish veloute
Godello, As Sortes, Rafael Palacios, Valdeorras 2005
~
Honey and soy roasted quail with sauteed foie gras
and spiced pear chutney
Corton, Grand Cru Les Combes, Chateau Genot-Boulanger 2002
~
Filet of Brandt beef and braised shortrib, spaetzle with
shallot confit and beef jus
Mayacamas, Napa Valley Cabernet 1992
~
Selection of cheeses
Chateau La Clotte-Cazalis 2003
~
Pineapple puree, vanilla yoghurt, pineapple granite, coconut tuiles
Apple and caramel trifle with cider granite, cinammon doughnut
~
Valrhona chocolate fondant with caramelized banana ice cream,
vanilla moelleux and malted milk
Bodegas Toro Albala, PX, Gran Reserva, Montilla-Moriles 1971

Hunkering down.

If you're not on the East Coast of the States today, you may not know this - but it is really freaking cold out this week. Today, the temperature in Manhattan has hovered around 15 degrees Fahrenheit (it was 9 when I woke up this morning), and it's not going to warm up significantly for at least a few days. Oh, and - we're expecting snow tomorrow and Monday.

So what's a girl to do when it's too cold to leave the apartment? Well, first that girl has to come to terms with the fact that she has no food in the house, and is indeed going to have to trek to the grocery store. Then, she starts planning a menu, and not just because having the oven on helps warm up the house.

On deck for me this weekend? Roasted tomato soup, to take to work for lunch this week. Roast chicken and a riff on Ina's roasted shrimp and orzo dish, ditto. Madeleines, for fun. Gougeres, for my friend Cristin's freezer (she's addicted to the ones at Ouest). And a couple of salads - celery remoulade and Mark Bittman's wintry slaw.

Not a bad agenda, I should think. I'm hoping to post a few recipes as the days pass here in the arctic north, so stay tuned!

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!

Ouest. Upper West Side, 10:15 PM, Friday December 10th.

Manhattan.

"Martini." In quotes because it was made with vodka and barely any vermouth, and you know how I feel about that.

Aw, thanks!

I'm deep in the midst of Christmastide here in New York, and was very excited to see an early Christmas present in my RSS feed this afternoon. The Internet Food Association (a super-cool blog started by a bunch of D.C.-area journalists) chose my photo of Ouest's gougeres for their daily Food Porn pic.

Thanks, guys!

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.