Merry Christmas, everyone! I'm enjoying a cup of coffee in my Christmas cup before heading over to my brother's place to open gifts and have some waffles, bacon and insanely delicious maple syrup.
Healdsburg is one of my very favorite places in all of Napa and Sonoma. It's small and charming, but chock full of excellent shopping, food and coffee. And they decorate the pine trees in the park in the center of town, too. So freaking adorable!
On this trip, we made a stop at Flying Goat Coffee before making a circuit of the town. I haven't made an exhaustive survey or anything, but I feel comfortable saying it's unlikely you'll find a better cup in the area. I had a bittersweet mocha, and it was delightful. Rich and interesting, and not at all too sweet. My friend Jeff had the Mexican version, with a whole host of ingredients that sounded overcomplicated, but actually turned out to join together and sign in perfect, delicate harmony.
And such pretty machines, too.
This weekend, I'll be building a gingerbread house! I'll be joined by my friends Caroline and Ellie, and it's going to be a blast, no doubt. Caroline and I used to do these every Christmas, back when we were growing up a block apart in our picture-perfect (especially at the holidays) little Connecticut town.
A couple of weeks ago, I ventured out to the Sonoma Valley for a friend's 30th birthday extravaganza. Many a good time was had (with many a detail to come), but one of the highlights was revisiting the amazing taco truck I discovered back in 2009, when I visited Sonoma for my 30th.
While the truck is no longer named Angelina's, the food is just as spectacular - and, trust me, we ordered enough of it to be sure of its consistency. Something like 12 tacos and two burritos - not to mention the tlayuda the staff insisted on making us. It's a sort of giant tostada, and it's a popular food in Oaxaca, where the staff come from. It was pretty freaking good, guys, and I wouldn't recommend leaving the truck without ordering one. Carnitas, tomatoes, avocado and cheese adorned a huge, fried tortilla. Between the six of us, it went so fast that I couldn't even get a shot of the thing.
The tacos were stupendous as well, with the chorizo coming out ahead as a favorite. I ate everyone's radishes, since they didn't see fit to do so themselves.
And, finally, the burritos. You have to go supreme, because you need that crema, trust. And make sure to get the lengua. It's rich, flavorful and just a touch on the chewy side of tender, which is exactly what I like in a piece of meat. (I always go sirloin over tenderloin.) While the carne asada burrito was tasty, the lengua burrito brought us to our knees, to the point where we just repeated the word "lengua" at random throughout the weekend.
The winner of our Creminelli giveaway is one Tara Bellucci! Tara had the fabulous idea of using the salami on a pizza; I, for one, support this wholeheartedly.
Congrats to Tara, and many thanks to all of you who entered - your salami-riffic ideas were much appreciated! Tara, an email with the giveaway details is headed your way.
As loyal readers know, I am a huge (huge) fan of pretty much anything the fine folks at Creminelli see fit to produce. Their artisanal meats are just too good to pass up; I find myself drawn to their display at Fairway more than is probably healthy.
Forgive me for rehashing old content, but nothing beats Gourmet's 2008 holiday issue for sheer holiday inspiration. Luxe, lovely and delicious.
I'm only including a couple of photos here, but you can check out this 2009 Queenie post for the full shebang.
Mostly this, which is Thomas Keller's fried chicken from his restaurant Ad Hoc in Yountville. I've been in California for several days, visiting a dear friend and celebrating another's 30th birthday.
Does anything say "wintry coziness" better than a boozy, chocolate-filled picnic? The answer, my friends, is no. No, nothing does.
Prune's butter-crumbed eggs with stewed chickpeas might just be the best breakfast I've had since my birthday migas in Austin. The crunchy coating on the runny egg adds a dash of textural contrast to the largely soft meal, and the preserved lemon on top of the Moroccan-spiced chickpeas is just...magic.
Last year, on the lookout for a way to bring brussels sprouts into the Thanksgiving meal (we've always been more of a green bean family), I stumbled across Zak Pelaccio's (he of Fatty Crab and Fatty 'Cue) recipe for the most obscene sprouts ever conceived. Bascially, you render the fat out of half a pound of bacon, then cook two pounds of sprouts in it - oh, and then you add heavy cream and good maple syrup, just in case you were worried that the recipe wasn't quite festive enough.
Need I say that they've been requested for the upcoming Christmas feast? I'll say it any case: these will be appearing on my table at least one more time in 2011, and I think you should give them a try as well.
I'm kicking off this season's gift guide series with a bang: a collection of the most brightly colored bits and bobs on offer. See, in the dreary doldrums of winter in the Northeast (which follow hot on the heels of the holiday season), everyone needs a little cheering up. For some, this comes in the form of one of those vitamin D sun lamps; for me, it comes in a jazzy iPhone case and bright pink lamps.
Hey, cats and kittens! Just wanted to let you know that my gift guides for the 2011 holiday season will be coming your way this week. I've got three installments this time around - brights for those of you craving summer, books for those of you who want nothing more than to curl up with a good one, and the makings of the best boozy, cold-weather picnic ever.
Sometimes I think there's nothing in the house for breakfast, and then I remember that I have eggs, scallions, a tomato and half an avocado. What's better than that?
As a half-Jewish girl growing up in the greater New York City area, I ate a lot of Chinese food. Correction: still eat a lot of Chinese food. Some of this is the more authentic dishes to be found mostly in Flushing and Chinatown; most of it is the gleefully Americanized stuff available all over the city, able to summoned with the briefest of phone calls.
Go to Justine's. Order the salade de crevettes and the ratatouille. Thank me later.
As is clear from many an earlier post, I love barbecue. My visits to Austin have never failed to include some example of the form, and for that, I am grateful. But it was only on my most recent visit that I've finally come to understand the obsession with barbecued brisket.
And for those of you who insist your barbecue come with something tasty alongside (I am among your number, to be sure.), I should say: get a double order of the coleslaw. It's creamy and light. The barbecue sauces served alongside (one vinegary, one molasses-y, one coffee-y) are marvelous, as are the all-you-can-take vats of pickles and onions.
I spent my first afternoon in Austin like this.
But before I lounged by the pool, I needed a bit of fuel. Nick, Louisa and I headed to 24 Diner (Home of the chicken and waffles Nick ordered back in March, remember?), where I ordered their veggie burger. It. Was. Awesome. Full of beets for a great texture and topped with arugula, roasted tomatoes, goat cheese and an egg.
My mom was in town last week, so my sister-in-law Miriam and I decided that she needed to experience dinner at Momofuku Noodle Bar. Turns out, this was an excellent call.
Next up, shrimp buns. I was a bit nervous about these, with, it turns out, no reason to be. They were amazing. The shrimp were perfect specimens - impossibly plump and sweet - pressed gently into a patty, bound with something delicious and unidentifiable. The patties were made on the griddle, I think, and arrived, piping hot, tucked into their yeasty buns and topped with a spicy mayonnaise and some iceberg lettuce. Slam dunk.
The Brussels sprouts with sausage were delightfully cabbagey - just a bit stinky and beautifully set off by the sausage. Should have been served with a spoon, though, the better to sip up the sprout-y broth. Apples brought a little sweetness to the party, and some puffed grain (they reminded me of Corn Pops, but savory) added crunch.
And, of course, there were noodles. Spicy cold noodles with spinach, sausage and candied cashews. You need the cashews to deal with the spiciness, trust. And chicken ramen, which comes in the very richest chicken broth I have ever tasted in my life. Ever.
Thanks for dinner, Mom - and you're welcome.
Hello, my dear, darling, wonderful readers! I know there's been quite a bit of radio silence around these parts of late, and I heartily apologize. It's been a busy summer/early autumn in Queenie land, and I'm just now back from a ten-day trip to one of my favorite places - Austin, Texas.
There's lots to report on (barbecue, a homemade Thai feast), but for now, just enjoy these adorable pictures of dogs.
Back soon with lots more, I promise.
My friend Richard is an all-around fabulous person. He lives a glittering life, full of fashion and fundraising and other sparkly things. He also, as it happens, makes a mean corn salad.
Sometimes, you just need a really simple salad. Last week was just such a time. I was overwhelmed at work, busy and home, and generally a bit wiped out. Cooking anything with a measure of complexity was simply beyond my means, and so I turned to one of the simplest standbys I know.
Nick, Louisa and I enjoyed a lovely breakfast at The Breslin last Friday. The coffee was stupendous, the baked eggs with tomato and chorizo simply glorious, and the service, frankly, lacking. At a restaurant of The Breslin's quality, I shouldn't have to wait ten minutes for sugar for my coffee.
But, man, what good coffee it is. Love you, Stumptown.
Ten years ago today, I moved to New York City. My first apartment was on a slightly desolate block of the Upper West Side. Today, there's a Whole Foods a block away, and four high rises have gone up within a two-block radius. Times, you could say, have changed.
My first forays into grown-up cooking were, to say the least, less than exciting. There were many grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (a trick I learned from my slightly older and much wiser roommate), a lot of bottled marinara sauce, and tons of macaroni and cheese. But always a green salad. I've always been addicted to vegetables.
Today, I drink booze with flavor (bourbon or gin, not vodka), the dinners are nicer and the nights (mostly) earlier. The produce is fancier and more local, and the apartment a bit more pulled together. But the joy I feel every time I see the New York skyline, the rush I get every morning when I walk out the door, the satisfaction I take in having made it in this most insane and exciting and glorious of cities - that hasn't changed one little bit.
Thank you, New York, for raising me so well. I love you. Which is a good thing, because we seem to be stuck with one another.
If you weren't in New York on Sunday, you might not know this, but...man, did it rain. Not pretty, misty rain. Serious, pounding, stay-inside-unless-you-feel-like-getting-soaked rain. It was one of those days that you're pretty sure you'd prefer to spend curled up with a cup of tea and a novel, you know?
I ordered the slow-poached eggs, which arrived cooked to oozy-yolk perfection and surrounded by mustard greens, some cherry tomatoes, croutons, a bit of corn, and the best part of all: pickled beets. The beets were sweet and just a bit piquant - and tasted to me as if they'd been tossed with a bit of butter on their way to me. Not a bad idea.
My friend Caroline ordered one of the house specialties: hette bliksem (hot lightning). A cast-iron crock arrived bearing the dish, which was made up of crispy potatoes and bacon tossed with a stroop syrup. (You know the filling in a stroopwafel cookie? That stuff.) Except that this syrup had a spicy kick to it. So it was a big ol' bowl of potatoes and bacon coated with spicy caramel. Crazy delicious and interesting, but perhaps better as a shared side than a main course.
