I’ve officially tasted my first “family meal” at the restaurant I work at. Yesterday morning, a few of the kitchen guys were collecting money and I inquired what they were pooling money for. Jose, one of the bus boys, told me they were going to purchase a giant hunk of beef to make something for lunch. I gave in my pesos, and two hours later saw a massive 25-pound piece of beef. Three hours later I was slurping down a delicious guisado with a few grilled tortillas.
Delicious.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
It was more than 7, I definitely know that. I don’t think I made it to 30 but it was probably pretty close. I was at about 16 when the rain started…
The 34th annual Milford Oysterfest was definitely a success. Despite the downpours that occurred in the middle of the festivities Friday night, the bivalve loving citizens of Milford, Connecticut braved the weather to eat, drink and be merry. I certainly had my fill of oysters (I think I ate about 25 of the briny creatures) and wine and learned about what might be the most interesting pastime along the Atlantic Coast—competitive oyster shucking.
Despite the various booths selling numerous foods and treats, I decided to bypass the fried shrimp served up by the kids at St. Gabriel’s school and burgers and hot dogs from the Milford Republican Town Committee (In case you were wondering the Democratic Committee stuck to the maritime theme and had fried clams and oysters) and headed straight to the Pond Point Wines and Spirits tent for the 1st annual Wine and Oyster Tasting. For $40 I feasted on freshly shucked oysters, appetizers from local restaurants and some hefty pours of wine from Charlie, the pony-tailed ex-computer programmer-turned-liquor store owner/wine connoisseur. Although I sampled everything the tent had to offer, I made it a point to understand the subtle differences between the various oysters offered. Each was sampled without condiments and in order to cleanse my palate I made sure to wash away each distinct oyster taste with some of Charlie’s wine.
From left to right, my first plate consisted of Oysters from Nova Scotia, Milford, Connecticut and Lottsburg, Virginia. The only way I could visibly tell the difference between the brack water creatures was to label them in my notebook. Despite these guys looking pretty similar they all have very distinct flavors. The Nova Scotias were incredibly light and not salty at all. The Milfords were the exact opposite, meaty and dense while the goods from Virginia tasted almost like nothing at all, very neutral and clean, probably due to the private waters where they are cultivated. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to me, but after sampling all seven different varieties, it was easy to see how oysters from certain waters are prized for their taste. My oyster epiphany reminds me of the Emputido festival in Spain where I consecutively sampled chorizo and morcilla from 3 different purveyors and realized just how complex one type of food can be from its neighbor.
Plate two (from left to right) consisted of oysters from Norwalk, Connecticut, some from the frigid waters of Bath, Maine and little ones from Noank, Connecticut. Around the time of round two I began chatting with a few of the shuckers, asking about the difference in oysters and how to shuck.
More importantly, however, I was trying to figure out why these people traveled from festival to festival shucking for the hungry masses. After chatting with a few I met a fellow named Jason. He was an admirable fellow, born in Rhode Island and living in Canada. Jason had a pretty interesting story; he was washing dishes in a restaurant when one of the cooks asked if he could shuck. Growing up in a coastal RI town he had a penchant for the mollusks and began prepping the oyster for his restaurant. Soon after he realized how passionate people were about oysters and began working with the distributors. He got involved with the company and worked his way up, shucking oysters the whole time. Somewhere along the line he got into competitive shucking (the competition portion of the Milford was held on Saturday, so I wasn’t able to attend) and became the national Canadian champion.
I listened to his interesting story as I thoughtfully devoured my plate of oysters. The Norwalks were incredibly salty globs of oysters. The third Connecticut offering from Noank was much more balanced, with the salinity easing into an almost sweet aftertaste. The oysters from Maine, however, were phenomenal! I knew I was in for something special when the program described the York, Maine delectables as filled with “brine and brothy umami richness.” Besides that statement making me want to write food descriptions as a living, it was spot on; the oysters were sweet and salty at the same time, with a dense liquor that made them go down easy.
After trying a few more of the Maine oysters (pictured again on the right) I tried the final variety offered, this one coming in from Jason’s home state of Rhode Island (picture on the left). These critters were probably the second best I sampled, slender and slippery with an almost oily finish. The salinity was strong without overpowering and the oysters themselves with thin, almost as if someone flattened them within their shells. As I was slurping a few down I began talking with a heavy-accented Bostonian named Anton who gave me the low down about the interesting world of competitive shucking.
Anton was a wiry fellow. He had a slight stoop that I assume he attained from hours of shucking and wore high shorts with a pair of heavy, well-worn work boots. His words came out quick and saturated with an accent that sounded like mix of Canadian and Bostonian, but I did my best to understand. He told me about a large, bearded man who was the second best shucker in the United States. I had the pleasure of trying one of these man’s oysters and immediately noticed something—he shucked upside down. I asked Anton about this and he began to explain shucking technique to me. The majority of shuckers uses a long, dull knife and inserts the blade at the base of the shell’s hinge. After cracking the sucker open, they remove the flat top shell, cut the connecting muscle from the body and serve the oyster in the curved, bowl shell. This method allows the oyster to sit in a small pool of its delicious liquid, adding another flavor element to the oyster. After Anton took me over to watch the U.S champion shuck, he pointed out the small tipped knife he was inserting in the front lip of the oyster. After breaking the shell open, the champ cut the muscles and discarded the bowl part of the shell, presenting a flat oyster that filled the small top shell.
I could hear the passion in Anton words as he described this Baltimore style of schucking. He began going into knife composition and how the North American champion—unfortunately, he was not at this festival—has a custom made knife that forms to his fingers. Anton seemed to break out in a sweat as he went on describing the various festivals and how he saw the champion shuck twenty-four oysters in a minute and one second. I listened to him speak as I devoured another plate of oysters.
A few hours into the festival, the rain started pouring and the tasting tent was jam-packed. The food was devoured and the wines were all drunk. The flow of oysters never ceased, but after many plates of “research” it was time for me to leave. I thanked Anton and Jason and said goodbye to Charlie. Anton reminded me of several of the festivals coming up in the fall and I made my way out of the tent and into the rain. As I passed the oyster tent on the way to the car, I noticed a few grizzled looking old men comparing shucking styles and critiquing each other’s form.
The competition had begun.
Some Oyster Facts (Courtesy of the Milford Oyster Festival FAQ sheet and Jeffery Steingarten’s article, “Hot Dog”)
• Oysters have been on the Earth for 500 million years.
• American Oysters live in brackish waters, that is, areas where salt and fresh water mix.
• Baby oysters are free-swimming microscopic organisms known as planktons.
• An oyster’s shell is made of calcium carbonate. The plankton create their shells by taking chemicals from the sea water.
• The oldest part of the shell is the point or beak.
• Oysters can live up to twenty years but most live to about six.
• The oysters we eat are usually 3-6 years old. Cultivated oysters are younger and wild ones are older.
• Raw clams, oysters and mussels account for 85% of all seafood borne illness. However, the bulk of this threat is due to mollusks taken from March to October in the Gulf of Mexico. Broken down, only one in every two thousand servings of raw mollusks will get someone sick.
Despite the various booths selling numerous foods and treats, I decided to bypass the fried shrimp served up by the kids at St. Gabriel’s school and burgers and hot dogs from the Milford Republican Town Committee (In case you were wondering the Democratic Committee stuck to the maritime theme and had fried clams and oysters) and headed straight to the Pond Point Wines and Spirits tent for the 1st annual Wine and Oyster Tasting. For $40 I feasted on freshly shucked oysters, appetizers from local restaurants and some hefty pours of wine from Charlie, the pony-tailed ex-computer programmer-turned-liquor store owner/wine connoisseur. Although I sampled everything the tent had to offer, I made it a point to understand the subtle differences between the various oysters offered. Each was sampled without condiments and in order to cleanse my palate I made sure to wash away each distinct oyster taste with some of Charlie’s wine.
From left to right, my first plate consisted of Oysters from Nova Scotia, Milford, Connecticut and Lottsburg, Virginia. The only way I could visibly tell the difference between the brack water creatures was to label them in my notebook. Despite these guys looking pretty similar they all have very distinct flavors. The Nova Scotias were incredibly light and not salty at all. The Milfords were the exact opposite, meaty and dense while the goods from Virginia tasted almost like nothing at all, very neutral and clean, probably due to the private waters where they are cultivated. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise to me, but after sampling all seven different varieties, it was easy to see how oysters from certain waters are prized for their taste. My oyster epiphany reminds me of the Emputido festival in Spain where I consecutively sampled chorizo and morcilla from 3 different purveyors and realized just how complex one type of food can be from its neighbor.
Plate two (from left to right) consisted of oysters from Norwalk, Connecticut, some from the frigid waters of Bath, Maine and little ones from Noank, Connecticut. Around the time of round two I began chatting with a few of the shuckers, asking about the difference in oysters and how to shuck.
More importantly, however, I was trying to figure out why these people traveled from festival to festival shucking for the hungry masses. After chatting with a few I met a fellow named Jason. He was an admirable fellow, born in Rhode Island and living in Canada. Jason had a pretty interesting story; he was washing dishes in a restaurant when one of the cooks asked if he could shuck. Growing up in a coastal RI town he had a penchant for the mollusks and began prepping the oyster for his restaurant. Soon after he realized how passionate people were about oysters and began working with the distributors. He got involved with the company and worked his way up, shucking oysters the whole time. Somewhere along the line he got into competitive shucking (the competition portion of the Milford was held on Saturday, so I wasn’t able to attend) and became the national Canadian champion.
I listened to his interesting story as I thoughtfully devoured my plate of oysters. The Norwalks were incredibly salty globs of oysters. The third Connecticut offering from Noank was much more balanced, with the salinity easing into an almost sweet aftertaste. The oysters from Maine, however, were phenomenal! I knew I was in for something special when the program described the York, Maine delectables as filled with “brine and brothy umami richness.” Besides that statement making me want to write food descriptions as a living, it was spot on; the oysters were sweet and salty at the same time, with a dense liquor that made them go down easy.
After trying a few more of the Maine oysters (pictured again on the right) I tried the final variety offered, this one coming in from Jason’s home state of Rhode Island (picture on the left). These critters were probably the second best I sampled, slender and slippery with an almost oily finish. The salinity was strong without overpowering and the oysters themselves with thin, almost as if someone flattened them within their shells. As I was slurping a few down I began talking with a heavy-accented Bostonian named Anton who gave me the low down about the interesting world of competitive shucking.
Anton was a wiry fellow. He had a slight stoop that I assume he attained from hours of shucking and wore high shorts with a pair of heavy, well-worn work boots. His words came out quick and saturated with an accent that sounded like mix of Canadian and Bostonian, but I did my best to understand. He told me about a large, bearded man who was the second best shucker in the United States. I had the pleasure of trying one of these man’s oysters and immediately noticed something—he shucked upside down. I asked Anton about this and he began to explain shucking technique to me. The majority of shuckers uses a long, dull knife and inserts the blade at the base of the shell’s hinge. After cracking the sucker open, they remove the flat top shell, cut the connecting muscle from the body and serve the oyster in the curved, bowl shell. This method allows the oyster to sit in a small pool of its delicious liquid, adding another flavor element to the oyster. After Anton took me over to watch the U.S champion shuck, he pointed out the small tipped knife he was inserting in the front lip of the oyster. After breaking the shell open, the champ cut the muscles and discarded the bowl part of the shell, presenting a flat oyster that filled the small top shell.
I could hear the passion in Anton words as he described this Baltimore style of schucking. He began going into knife composition and how the North American champion—unfortunately, he was not at this festival—has a custom made knife that forms to his fingers. Anton seemed to break out in a sweat as he went on describing the various festivals and how he saw the champion shuck twenty-four oysters in a minute and one second. I listened to him speak as I devoured another plate of oysters.
A few hours into the festival, the rain started pouring and the tasting tent was jam-packed. The food was devoured and the wines were all drunk. The flow of oysters never ceased, but after many plates of “research” it was time for me to leave. I thanked Anton and Jason and said goodbye to Charlie. Anton reminded me of several of the festivals coming up in the fall and I made my way out of the tent and into the rain. As I passed the oyster tent on the way to the car, I noticed a few grizzled looking old men comparing shucking styles and critiquing each other’s form.
The competition had begun.
Some Oyster Facts (Courtesy of the Milford Oyster Festival FAQ sheet and Jeffery Steingarten’s article, “Hot Dog”)
• Oysters have been on the Earth for 500 million years.
• American Oysters live in brackish waters, that is, areas where salt and fresh water mix.
• Baby oysters are free-swimming microscopic organisms known as planktons.
• An oyster’s shell is made of calcium carbonate. The plankton create their shells by taking chemicals from the sea water.
• The oldest part of the shell is the point or beak.
• Oysters can live up to twenty years but most live to about six.
• The oysters we eat are usually 3-6 years old. Cultivated oysters are younger and wild ones are older.
• Raw clams, oysters and mussels account for 85% of all seafood borne illness. However, the bulk of this threat is due to mollusks taken from March to October in the Gulf of Mexico. Broken down, only one in every two thousand servings of raw mollusks will get someone sick.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Connecticut, Part 1: Why leave NY for Pizza?
...for apizza, of course!
Well, what the hell is apizza? That question is a bit trickier. While I am no authority on the subject, I did spend the past two days in Connecticut sampling the stuff. I left Thursday to travel to the state whose only claim to fame, as my father puts it, is “the state between Manhattan and Boston.” I had only two objectives: try this apizza and eat as many oysters as possible at the 34th annual Milford Oyster Festival. As I sit in front of my computer screen with a belly full of research, I have to say that I’ve achieved both goals.
I arrived in New Haven, Connecticut on Thursday night around 8:30. Accompanied by my father, we drove around the city looking for Wooster Street, or what Connecticutians call “Little Italy.” After discovering that “Little Italy” consists of 2 pizzerias, a pastry shop and a handful of restaurants, we spotted the famous Frank Pepe’s Pizzeria Napoletana. There was a long line outside the entrance so after wandering the streets to see what the place had to offer we took our spots on line and waited impatiently.
Normally I do a lot of research before sampling a nationally famous restaurant for the first time, but I decided to go into Frank Pepe’s blind. I’ve heard about the place through a few pizza articles over the years; it is one of the oldest Pizzerias in the country, it is responsible for what is known as “New Haven style pizza” and that Jeffery Steingarten recommends eating “eight to ten white clam pizzas at Frank Pepe’s in New Haven, Connecticut, perhaps the single best pizza in the United States and certainly the best thing of any kind in New Haven, Connecticut” as a cure to clam phobia. Armed with this knowledge, I sat down at a small table with my father and proceeded to order a beer and some pizzas.
Frank Pepe’s was started in 1925 by Frank himself and since them has become a Connecticut staple. The pizza is cooked in a gigantic, coal-burning oven that can fit up to 15 pizzas and is helmed by men welding 15-foot pizza peels. The story goes that Frank’s aversion to tomatoes and cheese caused him to create the white-clam pizza that made Frank Pepe’s a staple and lead to its long reign as one of the best pizza shops in the country.
Despite the claim of many that Frank Pepe’s is the best, there is a small apizzeria down the block that has been challenging for that honor since 1938: Sally’s Appiza. Sally’s was started by Frank’s nephew 13 years after Frank Pepe’s opened and there is a lot of debate as to which is better. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to sample the pizza, excuse me, the apizza, at Sally’s but I’m sure I’ll be back soon to do so.
(As a little side note, this pizza rivalry reminds me of the citizens of Buffalo who constantly bicker about which is better for Buffalo wings, Anchor Bar—the original creator—or Duff’s. If anyone is from Buffalo or has insight on this issue, please let me know immediately! If you are from Buffalo and have a free couch, I’d be willing to make the trip up to decide the issue once and for all.)
While we watched in awe as the oven kept cranking out pizzas 20 minutes to closing time and contemplated why this tiny shop was so famous the pizzas arrived at the table. In order to sample all the pizzeria had to offer, we order three pies: the original tomato pie with mozzarella, the famous white clam pie and a cheese pie with half mushrooms and anchovies (to test their topping ability and as a way to indulge in the often ignored and wrongly ridiculed anchovy topping option).
The three came out on two metal trays and looked nothing like a New York pizza. Apparently, apizzas are very asymmetrical and can look more like amoebas than circles. They are hastily cut and have burnt, black blotches on the perimeter crust. They are anything but pretty, but I have to give it those New Haven folks, they are damn tasty. The pies were thin crust, flavorful and all the toppings were well proportioned. They original pie oozed with all those classic pizza flavors and besides the blackened spot peppering the crust—which some claim, “give more flavor”—the pizza was delicious. The mushroom and anchovy pie was spot on and the clam pizza tasted like…well, like clams. The hot grease from the pizza mixed with the salty brine of the clams to create a delicious liquid I’ve never had on pizza before. The clams themselves were on the chewy side, but if this was the price to pay for the salty ambrosia floating atop the dough then so be it. It was a tasty way to prep my taste buds for the oceans of oysters I’d soon be consuming. My only complaint about the white clam was that while I was polishing off the other pies, the temperature gets the better of its bivalve toppings; cold white pizza does not have the appeal of a cold regular pie.
After washing down the remains of the pies with a beer and washing my hands several times to get the grease, clam juice and burnt dough bits off, we set off to rest up for the big day that lie ahead—Oysterfest.
A little slice of history.
Well, what the hell is apizza? That question is a bit trickier. While I am no authority on the subject, I did spend the past two days in Connecticut sampling the stuff. I left Thursday to travel to the state whose only claim to fame, as my father puts it, is “the state between Manhattan and Boston.” I had only two objectives: try this apizza and eat as many oysters as possible at the 34th annual Milford Oyster Festival. As I sit in front of my computer screen with a belly full of research, I have to say that I’ve achieved both goals.
I arrived in New Haven, Connecticut on Thursday night around 8:30. Accompanied by my father, we drove around the city looking for Wooster Street, or what Connecticutians call “Little Italy.” After discovering that “Little Italy” consists of 2 pizzerias, a pastry shop and a handful of restaurants, we spotted the famous Frank Pepe’s Pizzeria Napoletana. There was a long line outside the entrance so after wandering the streets to see what the place had to offer we took our spots on line and waited impatiently.
Normally I do a lot of research before sampling a nationally famous restaurant for the first time, but I decided to go into Frank Pepe’s blind. I’ve heard about the place through a few pizza articles over the years; it is one of the oldest Pizzerias in the country, it is responsible for what is known as “New Haven style pizza” and that Jeffery Steingarten recommends eating “eight to ten white clam pizzas at Frank Pepe’s in New Haven, Connecticut, perhaps the single best pizza in the United States and certainly the best thing of any kind in New Haven, Connecticut” as a cure to clam phobia. Armed with this knowledge, I sat down at a small table with my father and proceeded to order a beer and some pizzas.
Frank Pepe’s was started in 1925 by Frank himself and since them has become a Connecticut staple. The pizza is cooked in a gigantic, coal-burning oven that can fit up to 15 pizzas and is helmed by men welding 15-foot pizza peels. The story goes that Frank’s aversion to tomatoes and cheese caused him to create the white-clam pizza that made Frank Pepe’s a staple and lead to its long reign as one of the best pizza shops in the country.
Despite the claim of many that Frank Pepe’s is the best, there is a small apizzeria down the block that has been challenging for that honor since 1938: Sally’s Appiza. Sally’s was started by Frank’s nephew 13 years after Frank Pepe’s opened and there is a lot of debate as to which is better. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to sample the pizza, excuse me, the apizza, at Sally’s but I’m sure I’ll be back soon to do so.
(As a little side note, this pizza rivalry reminds me of the citizens of Buffalo who constantly bicker about which is better for Buffalo wings, Anchor Bar—the original creator—or Duff’s. If anyone is from Buffalo or has insight on this issue, please let me know immediately! If you are from Buffalo and have a free couch, I’d be willing to make the trip up to decide the issue once and for all.)
While we watched in awe as the oven kept cranking out pizzas 20 minutes to closing time and contemplated why this tiny shop was so famous the pizzas arrived at the table. In order to sample all the pizzeria had to offer, we order three pies: the original tomato pie with mozzarella, the famous white clam pie and a cheese pie with half mushrooms and anchovies (to test their topping ability and as a way to indulge in the often ignored and wrongly ridiculed anchovy topping option).
The three came out on two metal trays and looked nothing like a New York pizza. Apparently, apizzas are very asymmetrical and can look more like amoebas than circles. They are hastily cut and have burnt, black blotches on the perimeter crust. They are anything but pretty, but I have to give it those New Haven folks, they are damn tasty. The pies were thin crust, flavorful and all the toppings were well proportioned. They original pie oozed with all those classic pizza flavors and besides the blackened spot peppering the crust—which some claim, “give more flavor”—the pizza was delicious. The mushroom and anchovy pie was spot on and the clam pizza tasted like…well, like clams. The hot grease from the pizza mixed with the salty brine of the clams to create a delicious liquid I’ve never had on pizza before. The clams themselves were on the chewy side, but if this was the price to pay for the salty ambrosia floating atop the dough then so be it. It was a tasty way to prep my taste buds for the oceans of oysters I’d soon be consuming. My only complaint about the white clam was that while I was polishing off the other pies, the temperature gets the better of its bivalve toppings; cold white pizza does not have the appeal of a cold regular pie.
After washing down the remains of the pies with a beer and washing my hands several times to get the grease, clam juice and burnt dough bits off, we set off to rest up for the big day that lie ahead—Oysterfest.
A little slice of history.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
I Am Going to Eat So Many Oysters...
About a year ago or so my sister moved into an apartment in Milford, Connecticut. Since I have little knowledge about Connecticut as a whole, let alone a tiny town there, I wasn’t too excited. However, when I drove over there to help her move in a noticed a small building downtown that was home to the annual Milford Oyster Festival!This Friday I will get to sample the briny delights of the town with a permanent committee dedicated to these bivalves. Let the excitement begin.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Free Range Good, Free Meal Better
In my quest to learn more about food—i.e. eating as much as possible—I regularly read the food sections of local papers, scan the periodical sections of convenience stores and stay up late reading obscure and mostly pointless food blogs. Over the past few years I have come to look forward to a few yearly issues, updates and publications. One of these, New York Magazine’s Eat Cheap issue, came out last month and while I was flipping through the pages I noticed that one of the restaurants mentioned was the new employer of my good friend. I had just eaten there for brunch one Sunday and was looking to delve deeper into the menu. Excited, I asked him about it immediately and was informed that the restaurant, Community Food & Juice on 2893 Broadway, has been receiving quite a bit of good press lately. While this was great news for the restaurant, I was much more excited to find out that the owners were offering free dinners for two to all of their current employees. Whether this was to celebrate the recent good fortune or mollify their employees for rotten treatment I am unsure. However, this problem failed to blemish the delicious free meal I had locavore-friendly restaurant.
Community prepares local and usually organic food. The menu proudly states that all the beef is grass-fed, chicken free range and fish caught wild. The vibe is laid back but classy and the food is served in a laid-back atmosphere complete with a brown-shirted waitstaff. I have no idea why management wants their servers to run about looking like a fashionable pack of well-groomed UPS employees, but one need not worry about such frivolous things when enjoying a delicious—and free—meal. The menu at community starts simple and slowly eases its way to what I would call accessorized. Appetizers are uncomplicated affairs, meant to highlight to ingredients more than anything else. The butcher’s plate I enjoyed was a polished plank of wood adorned with perfectly spiced chorizo, raisin toast, bobolink cheddar (a delicious cheese from a farm in Jersey) and a delicious onion jam to slather on it all. Our second appetizer was a plate of scallion and zucchini pancakes, fried thin and crispy and served with nothing more than soy sauce.
Although I didn’t sample any of the soups or bowls—the Bowl O Beets has been calling to me for a while now—I was assured that these tasty treats were as straightforward as they sound. The Bowl O Beets was nothing more than that: take pile of beets, season accordingly, place in bowl and serve.
I say that the menu becomes more accessorized for a reason; the ingredient list gets longer and cooking processes are introduced but the food never becomes complex. Flavors meld and compliment one another, but nothing is ever lost for the sake of complicated sauce or archaic cooking method. For entrees we feasted on pan roasted scallops and wild caught (of course) striped sea bass.
The scallops came beautifully seared and sitting atop of what the fine folks at Community call corn pudding. It’s a simple mix of corn, seasoning and oil and accents the sweetness of the fat bivalves sitting on top.
The sea bass had a deliciously crisp crust and leaned up against a sweet doughnut peach with a little sprinkling of foie-gras in the middle. Little splashes of mojito sauce dotted the plate and gave a refreshing zest to the meaty fish and savory foie.
Dessert was an equally delicious affair. A vanilla pannacotta was served in a jamming jar and topped with sweet berries and the wooden slate made a second appearance to highlight three deliciously ripe cheeses and a small cup of honey. The dessert menu mirrors the appetizer menu and brings the dining experience full circle, presenting delicious ingredients prepared in ways to emphasize the natural flavors. Overall, Community is a tasty little gem in Morningside Heights. While I may seem biased because I know employees of the place and was lucky enough to snag a comped meal, I may just have to return and pay full price the next time I want to indulge.
Community prepares local and usually organic food. The menu proudly states that all the beef is grass-fed, chicken free range and fish caught wild. The vibe is laid back but classy and the food is served in a laid-back atmosphere complete with a brown-shirted waitstaff. I have no idea why management wants their servers to run about looking like a fashionable pack of well-groomed UPS employees, but one need not worry about such frivolous things when enjoying a delicious—and free—meal. The menu at community starts simple and slowly eases its way to what I would call accessorized. Appetizers are uncomplicated affairs, meant to highlight to ingredients more than anything else. The butcher’s plate I enjoyed was a polished plank of wood adorned with perfectly spiced chorizo, raisin toast, bobolink cheddar (a delicious cheese from a farm in Jersey) and a delicious onion jam to slather on it all. Our second appetizer was a plate of scallion and zucchini pancakes, fried thin and crispy and served with nothing more than soy sauce.
Although I didn’t sample any of the soups or bowls—the Bowl O Beets has been calling to me for a while now—I was assured that these tasty treats were as straightforward as they sound. The Bowl O Beets was nothing more than that: take pile of beets, season accordingly, place in bowl and serve.
I say that the menu becomes more accessorized for a reason; the ingredient list gets longer and cooking processes are introduced but the food never becomes complex. Flavors meld and compliment one another, but nothing is ever lost for the sake of complicated sauce or archaic cooking method. For entrees we feasted on pan roasted scallops and wild caught (of course) striped sea bass.
The scallops came beautifully seared and sitting atop of what the fine folks at Community call corn pudding. It’s a simple mix of corn, seasoning and oil and accents the sweetness of the fat bivalves sitting on top.
The sea bass had a deliciously crisp crust and leaned up against a sweet doughnut peach with a little sprinkling of foie-gras in the middle. Little splashes of mojito sauce dotted the plate and gave a refreshing zest to the meaty fish and savory foie.
Dessert was an equally delicious affair. A vanilla pannacotta was served in a jamming jar and topped with sweet berries and the wooden slate made a second appearance to highlight three deliciously ripe cheeses and a small cup of honey. The dessert menu mirrors the appetizer menu and brings the dining experience full circle, presenting delicious ingredients prepared in ways to emphasize the natural flavors. Overall, Community is a tasty little gem in Morningside Heights. While I may seem biased because I know employees of the place and was lucky enough to snag a comped meal, I may just have to return and pay full price the next time I want to indulge.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Waiter Rant
I just ordered my copy of Waiter Rant. Apparently it is the Kitchen Confidential for the front of the house; I guess we'll have to wait and see.
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