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From Rick Steven's Podcast

"Food is culture, cuisine is pride"

Cheese 101 at Murrays

Last night, my friend Hilary took me to Murray's for their Cheese 101 class. Murray's is famous for their high-end cheese selection and quality, and for the proud slogan, "We Know Cheese." We were SO excited. Sealing my lips to the shameful secret that I really do love American cheese, I eased into a night of tiny tastes and pungent sniffs. With a beautiful plate of cheeses and wines and baguettes and dried fruits in front of me, I tried my best to reserve my natural gluttony and truly savor.

The lesson was fabulous. We were taught the basics of making cheese, the vernacular of describing cheese, and the proper etiquette of eating or serving cheese. Our guide was exuberant- as a true cheese lover should be- and knowledgeable about everything from curds to whey. I was very impressed. Even through the overwhelming odors of moldy rinds and creamy innards, the lesson kept me engaged for an entire 90 minutes.

NOW TO THE CHEESE. We were offered: Maplebrook Burrata, Prarie Fruits Farm Black Sheep, Spring Brook Reading Raclette, La Serena, Tomme de Chevre Aydius, Spring Brook Tarentaise, and La Peral. Don't know what any of that means? Let me break it down. We were offered a wide selection of the basic cheese categories:
1) cow, goat and sheep's milks cheeses
2) American, Spanish and French cheeses
3) fresh, bloomy, blue, washed rind, uncooked pressed, cooked pressed, and raw milk cheeses.

Essentially: we had it all. What was amazing about the selection of cheese is that all the cheeses came from the same FOUR ingredients but end up so varied just because of how they're produced. All those people who figured out the different cheese-making techniques must be absolute geniuses.




My favorite was the raclette ("scrapable") cheese, becaues I am such a sucker for melt-ability. But the black sheep was incredible also ("imagine eating a meadow of flowers, ignore the mouthful of mold") , and you can't really beat the milky freshness of a real burrata. As our instructor told us, there's an amazing difference between the "cerebral" cheeses-- like, say, a complex blue-- and the "non-cerebral" simplicity of the creamy burrata. Sometimes you want a "fluffy, milky, buttery, creamy" cheese... and sometimes you'll be brave enough to prefer the "veined, barnyardy, mushroomy, thick" cheese. You can't compare one to the other; each has its time and its place.

All in all- an amazing experience. I now feel more prepared to enter a cheese shop and choose the correct type. Or at least I'm one step closer!

I Live in New York?

Apparently, I live in New York City these days. And while I've spent so much of my life in New York already, actually settling here is an entirely different story. First of all-- you can't eat out all the time. I know, it's so disappointing. I've been cooking a lot though (as I posted with my lattice top!) and I even learned to butcher a whole chicken (with Mark Bittman's guidance, obviously). Future-mom training: in tact.

So now when I do eat out, I like to really live it up. I choose each restaurant carefully, knowing that the experience has to be totally out of this world to make it worth the gazillions of dollars it all costs. Looking back on it now, I am very aware that my list of eating experiences in the last two months are not appropriate for a college-grad on a soon to be acquired non-profit salary, but hey, a girls gotta eat.

So first of all, there are a few places I've eaten for which I do not have photographs. These include The Meatball Shop (great ambiance, cheap food, love meatballs), Di Fara's (well worth the wait, go while you can), Southern Hospitality (has Justin Timberlake ever let me down?), JG Melon's (a great burger is a great burger, no frills attached), The Burger Joint (I don't want my hotel lobby to not reek of burgers ever again), and Land (potentially the best Thai food on the Upper East Side). I also ventured to Williamsburg for the weekly Smorgasbord Flea Market, which was probably one of the best eating experiences of my life. If there is one way to enjoy New York in the summer, its an outdoor food festival.

I also unfortunately did not take any photos at Prune. After painstakingly delaying our reservation until after I finished Blood, Bones and Butter, Kira and I finally made it to Gabrielle Hamilton's lady-friendly nook on 1st and 1st. Of everything I've eaten these two months, my dishes at Prune were the most personal. Hamilton understands (as I now understand too after reading her memoir) that a gratifying food experiences entails really connecting with your meal: peeling a grilled shrimp, de-boning a full fish, sucking out the slippery bone marrow, biting the stem off a radish. Even if we're fine dining, we still need to connect to our food. Labor intensity is part of the prize. Leaving Prune, I felt proud to be one of the women gluttonously licking anchovy butter off my fingers, my accomplishments still glistening in plain sight.

Ok, now to the photographic testimony to my luxurious eating habits. First stop: WD-50. I've been wanting to try WD-50 ever since Wylie Dufresne guest starred on Top Chef, but I've been too nervous. As anxious as I usually get about mis-ordering, I am fully convinced that making a mistake at a molecular gastronomy establishment is true humiliation. After studying the menu online and reading umpteen reviews, Jenny and I settled on an even blend of dishes: two that highlight the food, and two that highlight Dufresne. Our favorites were the two appetizers, the famous "eggs benedict" and the Duck Pastrami. (interestingly, one food-centric and one Wylie-inspired) Jenny and I really are diner-girls at heart with gourmet sensibilities, as you can tell from our orders. While biting into a square egg yolk is really an experience worth trying, I don't think I'll be running back to WD-50 any time soon; sometimes good food is just better without the pretention.

Yesterday, I finally made it to Momofuku-Ssam. (Last week of funemployment, have to take advantage!) I think the moral of this experience is simply: I . LOVE . DUCK . I . LOVE . DUCK . SO . MUCH . And, yes, I know it is totally indulgent to have a duck sandwich with foie gras and mayo and bacon for lunch (ok, fine, it was my breakfast) but I can justify this kind of irresponsibility by saying that "David Chang knows best", right? If he can create a sandwich with just the right amount of duck, peppers that are sweet and spicy at the same time, little wisps of cilantro and a hint of sriracha, then I have to eat it. Every last succulent bite of it.

Finally, I want to discuss the finest adventure of them all: My graduation dinner at Le Bernardin. I can't even really compare eating at Le Bernardin to any other dining experience... there are some restaurants that are just on another level. And Eric Ripert is the god of seafood. When he came out of the kitchen, I shyly turned to catch a peek of his iconic stance, and it felt like I was in the presence of an actual celebrity. His quick prance around the dining room catapulted our evening into epic status, while at the same time grounding our meal in reality. THERE HE WAS- the man himself- master of all things fish- just strutting around his dining room. I couldn't believe it.

I think my dinner at Le Bernardin changed how I think about fish forever. I'm no longer convinced fish should cooked all the way. While I'll never argue with a great fried seafood dish (see: Cape Cod Summer 2010), or a whole grilled skin-on-bones-in platter (a la Gabrielle Hamilton), Ripert's finesse in just lightly searing a fillet, or delicacy is presenting the raw-seasoned carpaccio style, proves that fish is enough as it is. No fire, no side dish (even french fries!) necessary. Jamie referred to his raw salmon as "ethereal." You can't beat that with all grill-tops in the world.

Apologies for the fuzzy photos. I hope the brilliance of each dish can shine through the blur.

YES, that IS salmon on top of foie gras covered in olive oil. Mmm-hmm.

(this is my dad enjoying his meal. He took 4 rolls of bread instead of 1 like the rest of us. He knows how to get the most bang for your buck!)

Ok, so two months in New York and I am not doing too badly for myself. Suggestions for my next spot, anyone?

I MADE A LATTICE TOP!

Blueberry Peach Pie! HELLO SUMMER. When NY is too hot to handle... time for pie.

Jamie and Zoe's Eating Tour of LES

When Jamie is in the mood to indulge my eating habits, our gluttony really goes wild. His 6'4 frame and my bottomless tummy combine into an extravaganza of consumption worthy only of two people who could not care less about their health, waistline, or general well-being. With only one free day to spend together in New York, you might expect me to recount a romantic dinner at Jean-Georges. Or, perhaps, a homemade picnic in Central Park. Ha! Yeah right! Jamie and I spent the day doing what Jamie and I do best: stuffing our faces with melted cheese. In a matter of just a few hours, we roamed the lower east side on a personalized eating tour of all our favorite cheesy-fried spots. And despite doing our best to split slices of pizza and order the smallest plates we could, our snacks quickly devolved into a lunch-dinner experience that left both of us full for hours.

We began by making a b-line for Artichoke. I've been gone for just over three months and in that time Jamie has eaten a lot of late-night pizza. Not to discount the glory of Pizza Park right underneath his building, Jamie was proud to introduce me to Artichoke as the best slice he has discovered so far. As we approached 14th St, Jamie quickened his step in excitement. I couldn't keep pace even while running to catch up with him.You can even see in this photo that he didn't want to wait for me to take a photo before ordering. It's just that good.




Imagine the best spinach artichoke dip, completely smothering a crispy piece of pizza, with little bites of fresh grilled artichoke, all covered with melted cheese. I don't know how no one has invented this type of pizza before, since the sheer genius of mixing artichoke dip and pizza continues to astound me even as I think back on it now. I had discounted Jamie's 5 am phone calls proclaiming the glory of Artichoke pizza as simply drunken exaggerations, but no: Artichoke pizza is truly a feat of brilliance. HOT CHEESY SPINACH ARTICHOKE DIP! ON PIZZA!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?!?!?! Jamie garnished us up right-- chili flakes, obviously-- and we sat outside on a bench under an umbrella in the rain devouring our slice. After only one bite, I was convinced, even licking my paper plate to catch the hot artichoke dip drips that would be a travesty to waste.





We had to get up quickly from Artichoke so that we wouldn't order another piece, so we rushed over to S'mac, only a few blocks away. S'mac had been recommended to us by Chris Foley (see: Emeril's Miami, March 2010) who has been my partner in seeking out themed restaurants for a while now. S'mac is completely devoted to good ol' Amuuuuurican Macaroni and Cheese, re-imagined. Boasting a menu with items like Buffalo Chicken Mac-n-cheese complete with blue cheese and buffalo sauce, or Cajun mac with andouille sausage and hot peppers, it didn't take long for me and Jamie to switch gears into mac-n-cheese land. S'mac's piping hot pans of creative macaroni pay tribute to the classic box of noodles that has gotten me through many Saturday nights at Wesleyan University (Thank you, John Allison and Sophia Sadinsky) and revitalized Jamie at 3 am during his parties in Goshen. In fact, Jamie and I have been re-inventing Macaroni and Cheese ourselves for years: Jamie adding hot dogs and Lousiana Chalula into his Annie's, and my secret extra slice of American cheese in the pot of Kraft. We've basically been foreshadowing S'mac's menu in our own kitchens… it's just the S'mac does it with just a bit more style. And more cheese.





After S'mac we started to slow down, to our dismay. We needed a break if we were going to reach our final destination: Pommes Frites. So, we stopped for an hour to rest up with coffee and the crossword until our stomachs could rev up for just a little more. Pommes Frites has been a favorite of mine for a long time, even once prompting a one am trek 30 blocks through a blizzard for just a taste of that roasted garlic mayo. Ok, I'm just going to come out and say it: french fries are my favorite food. I know, it's juvenile. But Pommes Frites really does french fries right, making this side dish into something truly savorable. Served in a paper cone, freshly fried, cut thick… but most of all, accompanied by three sauces of your choosing. Now this is the part that really stresses me out. How am I supposed to choose between pesto mayo and sweet chili sauce? Parmesan peppercorn and peanut satay? Jamie charged me with choosing, a responsibility which left me practically too nervous to even eat, but eventually we compromised: roasted garlic mayo, curry ketchup, and honey mustard. Obviously the mayo was my favorite (as mayo always is…) but Jamie's was the classic honey mustard. He likes honey mustard so much that even after he spilled the sauce on the table, he was dipping straight into the puddle. Yes, we're classy. Here you can even see us in action- eating fries in the taxi, because really, who can take a bus uptown when there are Pommes Frites to eat?





Our lower east side eating adventures left us just inert enough to lay back with a Blue Moon and watch the Celtics beat the Knicks in the last minute of game 2. I guess Jamie and I are emanating luck nowadays. This was truly an afternoon well spent. And much more to come: even after successfully stuffing ourselves on these three LES delicacies, there are a million New York restaurants still to explore. I already feel full (heart and tummy) from the opportunity to start making food memories together again.

Shuk HaNamal

Every Friday morning, Shuk Hanamal opens its front and back doors to spread the way for a farmer's market. The inside of the market remains the upscale Tel Aviv foodie dream that sits on the port all week long, filled with fresh cheese, meat, fish and restaurants that claim the highest products available in Tel Aviv. These shops are then joined by farmers from around Israel, highlighting the best oils, jams, produce, cheeses, and breads they offer. While its difficult to trek all the way to the northern tip of the city on Friday mornings, and even harder still to battle the throngs of Tel Avivim who only want the best for their Friday night tables, I never regret visiting this once-a-week treat. The food is colorful and bright, the samples are surprising and enticing, the vendors are ohsodreamy and dirty and loving... oh, the thrill of a farmers market for a true foodie!!! It never gets old.