Upstairs for some

Young Mick has been watching his waist his a bit. He has really taken a back seat recently and laid off everything that is really good for him - booze, animal fats, fun. It's been all gym, gym, gym, Smartwater and fruits. He's getting married, you see and wants to look his best.

I was dead pleased when he said he was going to do a 'special one-off' pre-wedding blow out. The menu looked grand. Heirloom tomato soup, pasta with Gorgonzola and rocket, pork loin with sage and pumpkin bread pudding, followed by fig clafoutis. I had to applaud Mike for an excellent seasonal menu.

On the night, he phoned me downstairs asking to borrow some martini glasses. Up the wooden hills then to Mike's place clutching a fistful of glass and some vodka as a gift.

I knew we were in for a boozy night, and I was amused when he presented us with our first drink of the evening, a bacon martini. Oh my Christ! Bacon?? He said he'd heard of them before and wanted to try his hand. I did admire his willingness to explore the edge. It was presented beautifully, shaken with some crisp lardons to get the flavour into the vodka and garnished with a ruler-straight length of rendered bacon fat, seasoned lovingly with some black pepper. I could hear Adam muttering under his breath, "I can't believe this is happening." I'm not sure what I made of the bacon flavour to be honest, but I liked the fact that there was a rectangle of pig in my glass and I could suck porcine essence from it whenever I wanted. The black pepper really did add an extra strange dimension which I rather liked. I guess these bacon-laced drinks are an acquired taste, and one which I will attempt to acquire over the forthcoming months. (I invented a new cocktail last Friday, but that's the subject of a forthcoming post, when I've mastered the recipe.)


Suitably lubricated, we sat down to eat. The soup came dressed with aromatic dill and while it was steaming in the bowl of my spoon, I inhaled deeply before my first mouthful. It was full of summer tomato flavour and very rich. To make matters even richer, he'd made some brilliant Gruyere grilled cheese sandwiches to pack a cheesy crunch between mouthfuls of soup. I don't rate grilled cheese sandwiches to be honest (I tend to see them made with American cheese) but the liberal use of melting Gruyere and a deft sprinkling of Parmesan really made these babies a cut above. Adam , Legion D'Or of Grilled Cheese, declared them magnificent.


Before I'd had chance to discuss the floral virtues of an excellent 'Crios' Torrontes from Argentina, Mike came whirring round the dining room again with our next plate. We were each granted a decent dollop of rotella pasta oozing with mouldy and metallic Gorgonzola and fresh peppery rocket. Mike had a very Italian upbringing and I had the feint feeling this was one straight from his family's recipe book. Old school Piedmont cookin' for sure. I couldn't get enough of it truthfully, even scraping up bits from the other lad's plates without even asking. I knew I had to save some room for the next two miracles.

My belly was in for some serious exercise.

With a few minutes between the last and next course, I was able to focus my mind and clean my palate with a fabulously ruby (Ruffino) Riserva Ducale, 2001. Bloody marvellous it was, all big bollocks and black cherry notes. With this in hand I wandered round the kitchen counter to chat to our chef. He was busy poking temperature probes into 2 thick forearm-sized pork loins, so I thought I'd leave the man alone to his devices. I think pork is a difficult meat to cook correctly, but Mike on the other hand, is a natural with the stuff. He just thrust it into the oven, set a timer, and got to grips with his pumpkin and sage pudding. The results were mightily moist and meaty, luscious dripping slivers of porky goodness strewn over a delightful savoury pudding. He'd forgotten his portion control measures too, and I was faced with a big bowl of it all, glistening with his reduced pork jus. I was a good man if I finished this lot off. Despite a full belly I was able to do Mike justice and practically licked the bowl clean. That pudding was the perfect accompaniment to the pork. Sage and pumpkin. Need I say more? I remember when I was a nipper in the UK and I ate and ate treacle sponge pudding with custard until I was sick. If I find something delicious, I can't stop. A bit like being in love? I wouldn't go that far, but it was intrepid pork and very memorable.

We were literally finished off with a cunningly made fig clafoutis. Chef Mike had the batter consistency just spot on, and in the oven it rose up through the nuggets of sun-filled fig to produce an evenly golden sugary surface, studded with fruit. I was ordered downstairs to collect some homemade strawberry ice cream, and the pudding was complete. You've got to have some fat to go with a dessert like that. My oh my, that was a great dessert.

Well done Mike, a much anticipated and passionate return to the fold, and a memorable evening in great company.

No Prep, No Problem

Various cases of atypical circumstances made this past week's Thursday night an on-the-fly effort. Food poisoning, international travel and a number of unavailable last-minute substitutions dropped our Club numbers to a meek two. With this summer already providing fewer meal than we had hoped for, Teddy and I didn't want to waste the opportunity to gorge ourselves on home cooking. During the day, we threw together a menu and shopped for items that might not have necessarily been on a menu for the usual 3+ person group. We swapped some extravagant ingredients in for traditional dishes. Why the hell not, right? Here's the menu....

Pate with Green Peppercorns

Stuffed Hungarian Hot Peppers

Lobster Tempura
- Avocado Mousse, Sour Cream & Caviar

Braised Short Ribs
- Mushroom and Truffle Butter Risotto

Homemade Strawberry Ice Cream

The only short cut of the night was taken for the first course. Before stopping for wine, I thought I'd step into the local specialty shop to see if anything piqued my interest. With no previous time to prep and some actual work to do, we clearly needed something to eat while getting everything in place. I picked up a big block of pate and a crusty baguette. That hit the spot perfectly with a spicy glass of red.The peppers were dead easy from start to finish. Mild sausage meat, salty romano cheese, plain breadcrumbs and parsley were tossed together with an egg to bind it all. That mixture scooped in the half pepper only took about 12-15 minutes in the oven, complete with a nice and crusty top. The filling basically sat on top of the pepper and would definitely double as a good start for an Italian-style burger or sausage meatloaf.The lobster dish was not so easy to prepare. I've never seen an animal so full of life......especially after it's head had been removed from it's body. This bumpy little crustacean freaked the shit out of Teddy at every opportunity, which provided great comedic value for me. However, my laughter turned to twitchy expletives when the tail meat which was completely removed from the shell contracted at the slightest touch from a kitchen blade. I've never seen anything like it and will definitely think better against handling a lobster in this fashion again. Next time it's getting hucked in a pot of boiling water.......or getting a stake driven though it's heart......if I can locate it. The dish turned out great though, definitely worth all the trouble and horrific lobster nightmares I am sure to encounter in the near future. Nice crisped batter, sweet lobster meat and two creamy spreads to compliment those flavors and textures. No salt was necessary as the caviar bursted with salty flavor in every bite.The short ribs were well under way in the oven by the time I had arrived. This did wonders for the tenderness of the meat and the apartment's kiln-like temperatures. The sauce that the ribs sat in for hours was reduced down to nearly nothing and added a sweet, rich and tangy coating to the meat. At this point I was getting a touch full, but I couldn't help but selfishly shovel the creamy risotto in to my face. I could distinctly smell truffles on each mouthful before it even hit my lips. Maybe truffle butter is the way to go whenever butter is necessary? On toast in the morning, melted in a pan before frying an egg, how about a dollop of that on a broiled ribeye........yes, yes, and yes twice.Much like the sauce that covered the short ribs, I was too reduced to a thick puddle by the end of the last course. Tired. Full. Hot. But, one thing could turn around all of these symptoms.......ice cream. The sweet and tart strawberries kicked my salivary glands back into gear and woke me up for the long walk home.

Restaurant Saul

What can I say about Saul Bolton? The bloke's got it licked.

I'd heard that his restaurant on Smith Street's restaurant row had become a neighbourhood favourite and a few local residents had patronised it at least 4o times. Well that's pretty good PR I'd say. Looking for some goodly portions of delicious food on the Friday before Labor Day, the missus and I thought we'd get off the F train a couple of stops early and see what all the fuss is about. When I discovered that he's trained with some of NYC's greatest (David Bouley at Bouley, Eric Ripert at Le Bernadin) I got a little giddy with excitement. Generating faultless and grand dishes with those boys is bound to have an effect, and I'm glad to say Mr. Bolton had absorbed a lot of their technique and he didn't disappoint.

The surroundings are austere with plainly laid tables, no artwork on the walls, no frills, no fuss. I kind of like that, because a restaurant's decor can sometimes divert one's attention away from the plate and we were here to eat, not sit around in a plush room. We were primed and ready to scan the menu. There were some very tempting appetizer dishes on there too, including a foie gras with rhubarb, a duck confit with grits, sushi-grade hamachi. I opted for the seafood chowder, and the wife went straight for a warm Summer salad of an unknown-to-us grain 'frikh', HOTW mushrooms, fava beans, peas and a poached egg. We ordered and we were immediately given something to think about. Two small dishes were whipped out of the kitchen and onto our table, each with about a cup of intensely green liquid at the bottom. Our waiter said it was cucumber, mint and dill soup, (I believe). And that's exactly what it tasted like. It was chilled, refreshing and so far so good. Onto the starters! My shellfish chowder was a slick concoction of haddock, scallops and smoke lardons, all huddled together and keeping warm in a delicious broth, rich with butter and speckled with finely cut chives. The wife had a twinkle in her eye when her salad showed up, I must say it looked delicious. I couldn't resist the temptation to reach across and steal a mouthful. It had a great texture with some garlic 'chips' in there combining with the peas and barely-cooked egg.

The best was yet to come. The entrees were just as tempting as the appetizers (or entrees???) and I wanted to eat them all: Wild salmon, snapper and bass, steak, squab and rabbit tenderloin. I had spied a rabbit 'en crepinette' on their website's sample menu and I was hoping that was on, but in it's absence I plumped for squab. It turned out to be 'squab of the century'. I just don't know how he cooked the breasts so perfectly but was able to get some very decent colour and crunchiness to the skin. It was the legs that really got me all hot and bothered. They were embellished with a deep brown colour and crackly skin suggesting a very hot roast, and yet the meat beneath that crisp toothsome outer was soft and moistly yielding. I smacked my lips in delight at the gaminess (I must find out where he gets his pigeon) and hastily flagged down the waiter as one might flag down a speeding yellow cab when you're busting for a slash and need to get home, sharpish. "Tell me a secret my friend, how the hell do these legs remain so moist when they're so crispy on the outside?" Within seconds my man was gone, sporting a cheeky grin, and returned with my answer shortly after. "He makes a confit of pigeon leg first, then crisps them up under the grill." Well, of course he does! I was amazed by my own stupidity. The number of times I've reheated D'Artagnan duck confit under a hot grill, with the same results, and I still couldn't work it out. Perhaps the properties of Saul's excellent cellar was starting to have an effect. I was drinking a summery Rose rather too quickly.

Feeling rosy cheeked and full of well being, I was presented with the dessert menu which looked delicious too. I couldn't tell you exactly what was on it, but I do know we ended up with an astonishingly good lemon tart and a really stinky wedge of Valdeon, which we disposed of aided by two sturdy glasses of aged port. You can't have blue cheese without it, right? We were given garlic bread with the Valdeon, which disappointed. I'd have much rather had a club cracker or a nice Digestive biscuit, but it was a finely aged cheese and there was no mistaking it.

We weren’t hurried out or made to feel that we had to do one to make way for the next wave (we could see people were starting to form a line outside) and we were grateful for that. Cradling my new food baby in my arms, I managed to get up out of the chair, slip our excellent waiter a few bob and staggered into the cool night air for a smoke.

I can't wait to go back, not for the decor, not for the desserts but to sample each and every one of Saul's savoury offerings. I think the bloke's got real talent.

Kick it up a notch...for next to nowt.

What does one do when one has an appetite for something expensive, but on inspecting one's wallet it contains nothing but some dog-eared and pissy singles?

If you're like me, your palate needs regular therapy in the form of lobster, fine wines, caviar, antique brandies and general frippery. If you're like me, you've recently been sitting around in the garden drinking martinis and reading the mouthwatering "Ma Gastronomie" by Fernand Point. If you're like me, after reading something as seductive as that, you'll be fired up and desperate to dash out, spend $3K on finery and lock yourself in the kitchen for a week. If you're like me, that's going to be an issue. Monsieur Point recommends spending everything you have on the best ingredients you can find. Well I wish I could. Perhaps he didn't have to worry about rent, credit cards, bills. Alas I do, but I still wanted to do something that my gob would approve of.

A wander around D'Vine Taste on 7th Ave in Park Slope yielded some good Manchego (I'm having a phase with that stuff) a tiny sliver of an astonishingly rich foie gras terrine, and a small pot of truffle butter. I also found some delicious Bell Evans Cornish hens in my local butcher, and I was set to go. With FP's 'le grand cuisine' in mind and an oversized glass of chilled Bandol in my hand I set about creating something that would knock my knickers off.

I removed the legs and breasts from the 2 birds first, these would be my main meats, and I thought I'd make some good stock with what was left. I threw the meat in the fridge, got the big boy out and hacked all the bones and wings into smaller pieces. These were rolled in a bit of oil and chucked into a hot oven with carrot, celery and onion until they took on some nice colour. All this was transferred to a large pan, covered in cold water and I added some peppercorns and a bay leaf. It simmered gently for about an hour, I skimmed regularly, and then strained it through a fine sieve and some muslin. The stock had a great colour.

With my house smelling sufficiently nice now, I got stuck into the fun bit. I poached the legs gently in the stock for about 20 minutes. (That stock you still have is GOLD, get it in the fridge quick.) I skinned the legs and blitzed the meat in the Cuisinart, not until it was a paste, I wanted some texture. I mixed the meat with the room temp foie gras terrine, a good knob of the truffle butter and I didn't hold back with the stuff. I could have eaten the mixture by the large spoonful. I dressed some frisee and salad leaves with cream, S&P and red wine vinegar and arranged them in the middle of a large plate. I had some canola oil in a non-stick over a high heat, seasoned the breast meat and got some nice colour on both sides, before letting the meat rest for a bit. I dolloped a large quantity of the meat/foie/truffle butter mixture onto the leaves and draped over the breasts.

I don't even know if it was a salad, or an appetizer type course. I do know it was delicious and worth every bit of effort I put in messing around with stock and poaching legs etc. I could have just stuffed the bird with foie gras, roast the little bugger and dribbled the butter on top. All the flavours married well, and yet I was able to discern their individual contributions to the party in my mouth.

You should give it a go. Be as generous as you like with the posh tackle. I reckon a portion for one costs about $8. Not bad for a dish containing truffles and foie gras eh?

Thursday Club 08/23/07

So we've finally gotten back into the swing of things & this week it was the man like Adam's turn to fill our bellies with some Mediterranean fare.



- Grilled Fennel and Tomato Soup.
- Cannellini Bean Cake on Salad Greens w/Red Pepper Puree .
- Veal “I Don’t Know What to Call It” (veal cutlet topped with sausage meat, spinach, bocconcini, tomatoes, etc. then broiled) w/Romano Cheese and Herb Polenta with Balsamic Cream Sauce.
- Chocolate Biscotti w/ Coffee.

The meal began with the soup, which was extremely good. I loved the fennel which added real depth. The 3 of us eagerly dunked bread into our bowls.





Then it was onto the Cannellini Bean Cake which I was very excited about as I've never thought to make a cake out of veggies. Set atop a mound of greens & drizzled with a tasty red pepper puree it was pure delight. I'll have to try to make these myself!


The 'Veal Whatchamacallit', Adam's nameless yet delicious meat concoction. We all know that Adam likes meat, so veal topped with pork is pretty much par for the course for our man Adam. The cheese & veggie topping went well & helped to soften the meat overload. I especially liked the Polenta, something that I don't cook enough. Adding the Romano was an excellent idea.

Coffee & Biscotti were up next. An excellent end to the night. Well done sir, well done!

Awash (338 E. 6th St.)

It was a buddy's birthday, so a large group of us gathered at Awash Downtown ((http://www.awashnyc.com/) They have another location uptown on Amsterdam Ave.) for some Ethiopian food. I've never had Ethiopian, so I was really looking forward to this meal. Nestled on what I like to call 'Indian Alley', you'd miss the place if you weren't looking for it.

The decor is sparse (hey, we're here for the food!), but colorful, you could imagine the average restaurant in Africa would look just like this. We sat down & our resident expert & birthday boy, DJ, did all of the ordering.

We got beef, lamb & chicken tibbs (basically cubed meat, lightly sauteed & served with a sauce containing onions, peppers & African spices). The food came on large platters & was accompanied by various sauces & vegetables (the lentils were my favorite). Everyone ate 'family-style' there were 2 platters on the table & we all shared.

Forks & knives - no way. The 'utensil' of choice is an Ethiopian flat bread known as Injera, or Teff. Pancake-sized & lighter than I thought humanly possible, you would just break a piece off & dig into the meat & sauces. The food was amazing! I really enjoyed myself there. Tasty food, excellent service & good friends. I'll be revisiting Awash & I suggest that you check it out.

Rai Rai Ken

So I'm hungry today & I have noodles on the brain. I call my boy Jacob, who's always up for some food. We planned on going to Minca (see previous blogs), then decided to try somewhere new. Having got our avenues mixed up, we were walking by Rai Rai Ken (214 East 10th St. btwn. 1st & 2nd Avenues) & decided to eat there. Best Avenue mistake EVER!

The space is small, but cozy, the food is amazing. I love Minca, but often find the broth to be far too rich - requiring a visit to my toilet shortly after leaving. Jacob & I both got the Shoyu noodles. Packed with beef, half an egg, a light tasty broth & assorted veggies. A HUGE bowl of deliciousness for $7! & (stop the press), $4 beer! Fuck yeah! Another cool thing is that they have a card that they stamp every time you get a ramen. Eat 10 & your next one is free!

Go to Rai Rai Ken... No RUN!

A return to cooking....

Gosh. I was nattering with Grant the other day and he made me aware that the blog hasn't been updated for nearly a month. Shame on us. No, really. I have been out of the loop for a few weeks though, I found a nice girl and got married, went on a honeymoon and pretended to be James Bond for a week. I know that J-Boogie's Etch-A-Sketch blew up and it's at the menders, so he wasn't able to blog. But Adam really has no excuse - Or do you, Adam?

Unable to persuade any of the chaps to blog the last meal (even bribing them with champagne cocktails didn't work) I have taken it upon myself to do the job, so I'll try and be as objective as possible.

Honestly, it was fucking excellent.

I've been hooked into the fish thing recently and I lovingly prepared:

• Vichyssoise with scallop and caviar
• Tuna tartare toasts with egg snow
• Lobster and 'Crawdaddy' risotto
• Fillet of cod with potatoes and chive buerre blanc
• Homemade green pea ice cream with mint syrup
• Manchego cheese, marmalade and crackers

As I said, it was brilliant.

The soup to kick off was your bog-standard leek and potato soup, (inspired by Angela Hartnett, that Welsh minx)but I deliberately underseasoned it so I could go heavy with the caviar and that would act as the salt for the course. Quite possibly, the greatest soup I've ever eaten.
















Tuna tartare was an idea I had at the fishmongers - I was standing around while he fished a decent lobster out of the tank, when I spied some sexy-looking tuna loin. "I'll have an arf-pound of that too, Son." I carved tiny cubes of tuna from this crimson monolith, mixed them with a touch of olive oil, some capers, finely diced tomato, and some parsley, salt and white pepper. I hard-boiled 2 organic eggs, removed the yolks and pushed them through a fine sieve to create the snow. I toasted some ciabatta (some thought it was too toasted) and piled up the tuna on top, giving it a dusting of yolk to finish. Not wanting to waste the whites, I chopped one half, added tomato, S&P, mayo and some hot sauce and spooned this into the 3 remaining halves to keep the tuna toast company, a take of sorts on devilled eggs. Delicious. I wanted more...
















Lobster and craw risotto was easy.

Buy the crustacea. Boil or steam, remove meat and any juicy bits, crush shells (apart from those you want for presentation) and green stuff, mix with mirepoix, bay, peppercorns etc to make a good fish stock. Make yer risotto in the normal way using this stock, and at the end, mix the chopped craws and lobster with the rice, add a dribble of white vermouth, lots of butter, check for seasoning, and drape a nice claw or flash-fried tail section on the top for a finishing touch. Fucking unbelievable.































For the next course, I hard seared some nice bits of cod, sliced some new potatoes up, and lubed everything up with a really nice chive buerre blanc. For me, there's no better sauce for fish. I won't go into the recipe, you could easily find your own and when you've made it a few times, you'll know which recipe works best for you, innit. I'm patting myself on the back again.
















My mates Alex and Steph bought me a brand-spanking new ice-cream machine for a wedding present, and I've been itching to make some daft ice-cream, like everybody else seems to be doing these days. I read something last time in the UK about pea creams, and it was this thought that formed the recipe in my mind. You can get sweet peas can't you? Well, let's make 'em sweeter and freeze the little fuckers. Oh, what goes with peas. Mint? Mmm. So that was it. Cream, milk, sugar, peas, freeze, infuse some syrup with mint from the garden. Bob's yer uncle. Best damn ice-cream I've ever eaten. No shit.

The cheese course was cobbled together from some old gubbins in the fridge. The classic combo is Manchego and quince jelly, but short of spending $40 on a jar, who the fuck has that? Not me mate. A spoonful of Frank Cooper's orange marmalade did the trick, the Americans never noticed the difference.

I can't believe a meal of this magnitude came out of a small Park Slope kitchen. I really can't. Incredible flavours, insane textures, executed with breathtaking accuracy and precision. Meals like this belong in restaurants. Anybody know of any going spare, like?

Jack's Luxury Oyster Bar

Luxury eh? I was somewhat skeptical & actually scoffed at the name of the place, but I was pleasantly surprised with the meal. It was my birthday & I was hankering for some raw seafood, so we (Myself, Alesha, Mom & Jacob) headed to Jack's @ 101 2nd Avenue (which used to be Jewel Bako Makimono).

The space is well designed, minimalistic yet swanky. The service was excellent; I was late for my birthday party @ Von, so we stressed that we were in a rush - the food came out lickety-split.

While not as good as Balthazar, the raw selection was excellent & more moderately priced. I recommend Jack's - 2 thumbs up!

I Take It All Back

In my youth while growing up on a steady diet of hotdogs (a ghastly yet delicious combination of "meats") and nachos (covered in synthetic "cheese"), any kind of seafood was never high on my list of favorite foods. I'm sure many other children were similar....you know who you are. To paraphrase a line from a comedian, "Fish is the only thing when not at it's freshest, smells like what it is". To further that statement, a trip to the old Fulton Fish Market on South Street will only confirm what 170 years of peddling water-dwelling animals can do to air quality. That smell will most likely not change, but my feelings about seafood have.

Additionally, I have heard others, myself included, say "I am not a big dessert person". I think it has a lot to do with my preference of savory over sweet dishes or the fact that I cram too much food into my face to fit another rich course in. Since the beginning and especially as of late, Club meals have taught me to turn down nothing, try everything, and to slow down and wait for dessert, because you might might miss something special. Here is what J Boogie whipped up this past week.

Split Pea Soup with Hamhocks
Duck Breast with Apricot Glaze
-Caramelized Apples
Whole Stuffed Sea Bass with Lemon Caper Sauce
- Garlic Mash and String Beans
Bananas Foster Ala Boogie

Some people are turned off by pea soup, perhaps a flashback to that pukey scene in The Exorcist. Usually smoothed out for texture reasons, Jason left a lot of the chunks in to create more of a pea stew. The slow cooked ham hocks added a ton of salty, meat flavor and a heartiness not present in a heavily blended pea soup.



Duck is one of my favorite animals.....not to admire in nature or anything, to eat. It has appeared in our Thursday Club meals probably more than any other meat, and I have absolutely no complaints about that. The sweet apricot glaze spooned over the medium-rare duck slices were simply what we needed to get us ready for the rest of the meal. Caramelized apples never disappoint either. Paired with any salty, crispy sliced meat, you can't lose.




When I saw the fish course on the menu, I had no idea that they would be in whole form. I though Jason would just stuff a fat fillet with herbs and get it under the broiler. It wasn't until I was going to throw some bottles of white in the fridge that I noticed 2 crystal clear eyes glaring at me from underneath a layer of plastic wrap. Maybe a mere hallucination, I thought one winked at me as if to say, "Hey. We're going to be delicious, get me in the oven". And that's exactly what was done. With fennel and fresh herbs bursting out the bottom of the fish, they were cooked, then flipped and cooked some more. We were able to pull the bones out in a singular, almost cartoonish fashion because the meat was so moist and tender. The lemon caper sauce added an extra fresh burst of citrus and brine to the flaky flesh. It was nice to get some fresh vegetables on the plate as well in the form of some al dente green beans.

Luckily I saved some room for dessert. Jason's personal spin on a classic used diced bananas instead of whole and some Calvados (apple brandy) and aged rum for the boozy part. He also skipped the flambe technique seen in so many restaurants, but it didn't bother me as a) it adds no flavor to the dish and b) it has been known to burn kitchens and apartments to the foundation.

However, I was still getting a bit antsy, emploring someone to pull the bananas off of the stove top because they looked done. A raised hand silenced my nonsensical babbling as the extra cooking time created an unbelievable chewy, syrupy crust around each scoop of the mixture. Hot gooey topping, cold vanilla ice cream.......done and done.

An oily evening

We had a stand-in last week in the shape of Wendy. J-Boogie decided it was just too much effort to come all the way to 19^th Street, Brooklyn for some grub. He had been burning the candles at both ends though, and melting the middle. He might be tad surprised at the entries on his credit card bill, which he’ll receive pretty soon. Good luck with that, Son.

Adams finally gave up on 'modern American meat' this week, and decided to go off-road in his culinary SUV and build some dishes with Asian inspiration. First stop China. Next stop Japan. Next stop Chino-America (in a Trader Vic's stylee.) And then on to Thailand, with a one last stop at Japan before heading across the sub-Asian continent and stopping firmly in India:

• Chinese “Breakfast” - Chili Toast with Chinese Sausage and Panko Fried Egg Yolk
• Teriyaki and Ginger Chicken Wings
• Crab Rangoons with Sweet and Hot Mustard
• Grilled Squid Fried Rice
• Sesame Crusted Yellow Fin Tuna
• Radish Frozen Mango Popsicles
  

Panko fried egg yolk? This was a real test of his talents. There was some heated discussion about the best way to panko-fry a singular yolk. He wanted to maintain it's natural shape. All manner of crackpot ideas were put forth before he settled on the most failsafe method. Seperate the yolks from the albumen. 'Roll' the yolks in hot water to at least stablise the membrane surrounding it to allow for easy transfer in and out of flour, egg and panko. A delicate touch was needed, and he delivered. We sat down to a slice of bread smeared with a spicy chilli butter, the deliciously crunchy yolk nestled on top of that, garnished with a splendid pair of musky duck sausages from Chinatown. East meets West with a crash, and a triumph in my eyes. My favourite course of all, the duck and the spicy bread packed one hell of a meaty punch, but luckily I had plenty of barely cooked hen's yolk to soothe the bruises.Teriyaki chicken wings were a decent take on Japanese-American food. Take your average chicken wing. Fry the bugger as usual, leaving it fabulously juicy inside and with a crispy-skinned exterior. Don't add Anchor Bar wing sauce, no. Add a good piece of butter, some Teriyaki sauce and some finely sliced ginger. Toss. I liked the idea of the Teri-Ginger sauce and it does good things to bland fowl. A damn sight better than Buffalo wings, for sure. Ideal beer food, and no doubt a great accompaniment to any ‘sport’ party.

By this stage, bellies were suffering a little from the fat onslaught. It was difficult to get pissed actually, because the oil must have formed an impenetrable lining in my stomach that didn't allow a molecule of booze through. We had to shape up for the crab rangoons. First invented at Trader Vic’s (an American chain) I had experienced them at some Chinese place on 5^th Ave, Park Slope and I thought they were brilliant. Definitely not Chinese, but worthy of a place on the menu. Adam mixed smooth cream cheese and studded it with hunks of ocean-fresh crab meat. (Well OK, tinned ‘imitation’ crab meat.) He shoved spoonfuls of the mixture into wonton wrappers, gave them a little twist, and guess what? Yes, that’s right, into more bubbling oil. Despite my urgent need to shy away from fried things, I had to eat. They were much better than the ones I had down the road on 5^th Ave, and as hard as I tried, I could only queeze a few of the crunchy little devils into my fat-addled guts. My veins ached. I did have some slight concern that I was on the precipice of some major coronary event.

There was no let up. Next course? Fried rice, with fried squid. Oh, for fuck’s sake. My vision was starting to blur and I could feel a lipid tsunami taking over my body.

I wish I could say more but I can’t recall much of the next course. I know it was NOT fried. I vaguely remember, while I was stinking of fat, that it was not bad at all. Grant had to give me a lift with mine. I managed one slice of the stuff I think between bouts of nausea and serious internal malaise.

“Anybody for a mango popsicle?”
“You didn’t fry it?”

Sunday Roast

This Thursday Club malarkey has really started to change the way I think about food. I can’t seem to sit down for a meal now without trying (and usually failing through a complete lack of culinary knowledge) to dissect it and understand why it tastes good, bad or mediocre. I don’t think it is a bad thing but it is getting a bit annoying; something like a dermatologist picking holes in Maria Sharapova’s skin instead of stepping back and simply enjoying the bigger picture. The worst trait I seem to be picking up is judging every bit of food I shove in my fat face, be it dinner in a restaurant or a slice of toast the missus makes me, against the universal benchmark of “would I pay for that?”

The reason I start this entry with this rant is that I offered fairly late on Saturday to do a roast dinner for Thursday Club regulars Ted and Jason. Now if I was doing this 2 months ago then I wouldn’t have given it a second thought until popping out on Sunday late morning to do some last minute hungover ingredient gathering. But it isn’t 2 months ago (unless you first read this in September but that is too hard a situation for me to grasp right now) so I used my Saturday night to get out some recipe books and do some research. Admittedly this was helped by Mrs Mac being ill which halted any thoughts of partying and probably saved my guests from being fed some of my usual hungover slop. Hopefully you are beginning to understand the curse and blessing that is Thursday Club – I’m not sure I could give these guys a headache tablet without double-broiling it and serving it in it’s own juices…

Anyway, the purpose of the afternoon was to rescue Ted from his apartment which had been taken over by snakes with tits. Ted arrived right on time but smelling like a hobo and Jason arrived fashionably one hour late but minus the paparazzi. We cut the hangovers with your basic mozzarella, tomato and basil salad with some additional grilled, skinned, sliced peppers which I love doing as they are just so damn sweet. Served in our shaded garden on a hot summers day in New York accompanied with cool Brooklyn Brewery beer (like god himself would make) and crisp white wine and life is looking alright.

Then work starts on bringing the main act on. That’s what I love about a roast, the sweating with 5 minutes to go as every heat exuding surface is being used including holding up the gravy pan near the light fixture. It’s also pretty tough to fuck up and usually gives a decent result. My mum is a classic example here as she is the original deep fry everything gal but on Christmas day this astounding woman would give Ramsey a run for his money as it’s tough to argue with a plate containing 15 different food items produced on a prototype Barbie electric stove.

So we’re having beef and the boys as Balducci’s (yes, expensive but their staff are highly approachable and seem to know what they are on about) only had a chuck roast which I now know means the neck. Fat is a good friend of mine so I shoved some garlic slivers into the slab of beef and slow roasted it for nearly 4 hours in the end. Golden, fluffy, crunchy roast potatoes accompanied with roasted parsnips and carrots providing the vitamins. For me, the luminous green mushy peas (from a tin of course) made the meal authentic and I could have drunk the gravy made from the beef juices by the pint although that might be because I added a bit too much red wine.


Desert was a monster glob of Amaretto which fuelled an undeniably hammered tour of some of Greenwich Village’s dirtier drinking holes. A nice way to spend a Sunday although I think I might lay off the Duvels next time I woke up on Monday feeling like Iron Maiden were holding a concert in my cranium.

Thursday Club 06/28/07

The gang descended on Brooklyn to sample some of Teddy's skills. With enough wine to sink a ship, we were ready to roll.

- Brandade de morue (gratin of salt cod).
- Beetroot & apple salad w/horseradish cream.
- Walnut & mushroom ravioli. morels & black truffle butter.
- Duck confit, bing cherries & truffled duck liver sauce.
- Wine-poached pear with blackberry coulis, bleu d'auvergne shortbread.



The salt cod starter was simply delightful. Salty, creamy & topped with cheese, it was an excellent opening dish.





Now here's where I'm going to have fun. Ever since Teddy's scathing review of my Japanese-inspired meal a few weeks ago (Ok, I'll admit that it was a half-assed attempt) I've been looking for a chance at some payback. Teddy's 2nd course was actually pretty bad, which is rare for T-diddy, but hey, it happens, right?

Teddy redeemed himself with the ravioli. Flavorful, buttery, excellent.






The duck followed & boy was that a treat! The richness of the liver sauce when mixed with the sweetness of the cherries was pure heaven!





With barely an inch to spare in my gut, Teddy brought out the final course which was very light & really tasty. Nicely done Diddy!