Dear Mas,I just want to say thank you, thank you, thank you! You found it in your heart to give me another chance and sample the delights you create day in and day out. I know I got into that accident last time we were supposed to meet, so I left you hanging. However, you proved the better person and gave me another shot. You cannot understand how enthralled I was when I found out there was a reservation at 9:30 last Wednesday and all I had to do was show up with a case of beer for Matt and the chefs in the back. Mas, everything was delicious! I want to thank you especially for the pork belly dish. Your charming interpretation of bacon and eggs makes me remember why I like you so much to begin with. Serving a juicy and sumptuous strip of pork belly with a poached egg yolk on top of Italian polenta—you’re so clever! I also loved the Pacific Halibut wrapped in leeks and that Yellowfin Tuna O’ccidental. That Chamblis you gave me just was spot-on with the fish, too. It made me think of how classy you can be without forgetting your foundations. You aren’t like the others, Mas. You really know how to make me feel special. Who else would invite me in at 9:30 and let me stay until 1 in the morning? Or serve me 10-plus courses without making me decided what I wanted to eat? You really are top-notch and I look forward to our next date. Until then, try not to impress those other people too much. You know I have my eye on you.Thanks again, I’ll never forget it,Justin
PS: Sometimes I look at the few pictures I have when I miss you.
A year ago a close friend of mine traveled to Munich while studying in Italy. When he returned to the States, I was regaled with tales of hours spent in the beer halls abroad. Long nights in large open buildings, filled with old wooden tables, jovial people and heavy steins brimming with delicious frothy brew. Ever since I heard of these stories, I’ve longed to travel to Germany and experience these mythical places for myself. I never made it to Deutschland while living in Spain and the miserable Dollar-to-Euro ratio prevented some shoddy plans I had to travel to Oktoberfest this year. Despite these setbacks, there was a silver lining on the beer filled cloud of my dreams. The lucky residents of New York—my humble self included—have not one, but two locations to indulge our—but more importantly, my—Germanophile and beer garden filled fantasies: Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden in Astoria and Radegast Hall and Biergarten in Williamsburg. My fantasy was recently fulfilled at the Radegast Hall. This is the newer of the two (it opened this past year) and from what my I’ve-been-to-real-halls-in-Munich-friend tells me the less authentic of the pair. A man named Ivan Kohut has a hand in both of the bars, and super authentic or not, I had a great time. Apparently, Mr. Kohut’s wife, Joanna, is a personal chef who created the menu and I must give praise to the woman for the grub.Although my party stuck to appetizers and I wasn’t able to sample any entrees (we were there to drink after all) I finally had the chance to chomp down some Steak Tartare. I tried the trout salad, the pate and the charcuterie and cheese plate but the tartare is what I enjoy spilling the beans about. I’ve heard about the dish before and have been jonesing to try it ever since I’ve read various beer hounds accounts of sampling the plate in halls across Europe. Although I’ve seen it multiple times on menus at upscale restaurants, nothing beats a big plate of beef to accompany your liter of dunkleweisse.
If you are unfamiliar with Tartare it’s very simple to explain: take good steak, grind it up, toss an egg yolk on top, season and serve with condiments. There is no cooking involved! You sprinkle on some onion, relish, mustard, Worcestershire sauce or whatever else is available, mix it up and toss it on some bread or other tasty vessel to transport the goodness from plate to mouth. While some my cringe and cry out the dangers of eating raw meat, I say try the stuff before bad mouthing it. As long as you can trust your sources and know you are eating good beef, you aren’t going to die. Granted, if I drop dead tomorrow you may have an argument against me, but until then, go order up some tartare, a stein and daydream about Oktoberfest.
I apologize for the lack of information lately but I was recently given a copy of Garret Oliver’s The Brewmaster’s Table and haven’t been able to pull myself from it.
Currently, I am working on an event with Mr. Oliver’s Brooklyn brewery for a new company called CityDusk so I’ve been reading up, getting my information straight and satisfying my unending quest for beer and food knowledge.Speaking of beer—and organics, but we’ll get into that a bit later—there is an Organic Beer Festival this Saturday, October 25th, at Counter Restaurant in NYC. It’s a smaller fest located in a fine looking little vegetarian restaurant, but most people haven’t had the chance to taste more organic brews then Peak and Wolaver’s. At the last brewfest in NYC I attended Magic Hat was touting a new line of Organic beers which, unlike many other Magic Hat brews, had a taste as distinct as their marketing. Seems like this could be a tasty new movement in beer and it is gaining ground. Check it out if you can.
I spent last weekend in Boston, Massachusetts and in honor of my trip I made the obligatory trip to a local brewery. Over debating with myself to head to the Boston Beer Company (a.k.a. Sam Adams) or the Harpoon brewery, I discovered that the latter does free tasting tours every Friday, precisely the day I was looking to indulge. I’m going to put it right out there: Boston might be a better beer city than New York. This isn’t looking at New York State, but the city of Boston vis-à-vis the city of New York—it’s pretty close. Now I know that there are a lot of differences; Boston is much smaller, there are less people, etc etc etc. However, the Harpoon brewery is 20 minutes on foot from the financial district in Boston. I know that there are a bunch of Heartland Breweries scattered throughout the city, but it’s not like I can buy a six pack of Heartland around the block from my house, and the only way I can walk into the Brooklyn brewery is if I’ve taken the subway into Williamsburg. Also, every single bar I entered while in Boston had at least one Harpoon on tap. The same can’t be said fro Brooklyn, Six Point or Bluepoint beers in New York. Harpoon also coordinates four really, really big beer festivals in the city. At the last St. Patrick’s Day bash, they kicked 300 kegs while partying in the rain. While I now love both cities, the beer drinkers in Boston seem to be fiercely loyal to their local brew. This is definitely a good thing.There are a few interesting facts about the Harpoon brewery. To start, it owns the first brewing license in the state of Massachusetts, making it the oldest brewery there. Also, their Winter Warmer seasonal is the 2nd oldest annual seasonal beer in the states (I’m still trying to find the first). They use their own proprietor yeast (meaning that you can’t find their yeast anywhere else in the world) and they are one hell of a supporter of the local beer scene. The giant beer fest I attended back in the summer was put on by Beer Advocate and Harpoon brewery. Speaking of which, Harpoon actually sponsored a teeny, tiny beer fest I went to back in Binghamton, NY. Way to go Harpoon.Basically, I like this beer. If you are ever in the area, take the time to hit up the brewery for their Beer Tasting Tour. Unlike other breweries that schlep you around the beer vats and the bottling line and spit out facts, the people at Harpoon sit you down at their tasting bar, give out a bunch of samples and give you the details on each beer while going through the history of the brewery. It’s interesting, informational, and most importantly, delicious.
The New York Times just did an article on the restaurants owned by Mark Firth and Andrew Tarlow in Brooklyn. It wasn’t just any review or blurb about current hot spots; it focused on meat.The restaurants—Marlow & Sons, Diner and Bonita—have begun ordering whole primal cuts of meat and butchering them on premises. The idea is both to serve local and fresh product, but it also requires chefs to get a little creative with the animal. While it’s easy to sell of strip steaks and short ribs, people are still squeamish about tongue, bones, heart and the like. The ability to masterfully prepare various cuts of offal is impressive in themselves, but to be able to make a profit from it to a cliental who normally wouldn’t eat the stuff is where the real skill is.Chris Cosentino, chef of Incanto in San Francisco and creator of the very good website offalgood.com is quoted in the article, talking about the importance of head to tail eating. In honor of restaurants close to home putting more focus on the entire animal and culinary locality, I’m linking a clip Mr. Cosentino did for Gourmet Magazine about pig head preparation. This video is just one of the extremely informational videos Chris posts on his website. Even if you aren’t interested in eating a pig’s head (or any offal for that matter), it’s important to know where that filet mignon you are ordering came from. Browse through the blog on offalgood.com for some interesting videos and posts about the meat we eat.
Dear Mas, I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it out to dine with you tonight. You seem like a lovely and delicious little place and I know I must have let you down. I’m sorry that I’m an idiot and crashed my car into a median divider on the parkway last night and now can’t afford/get to the train station (or anywhere else for that matter) to sample your plentiful bounty.I’m especially sorry since the people I was supposed to go with have connections with the kitchen and we were going to get styled out. You know how much I love meals that start with the directions to “bring a six-pack for the guys in the kitchen” and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me soon. Since I can no longer afford you—or any other restaurant—due to auto body expenses, I will be spreading the word that I am willing to prepare, cook and do the dishes at anyone’s house if they are willing to let me partake in the meal. My only requirement is that I must be able to ride my bike there.Mas, I hope to see you very soon. Tearfully,Justin
A close friend went out of her way to get me a reservation to Babbo, Mario Batali’s restaurant in the West Village that many consider one of the best places to eat in Manhattan. Do a quick Google search and you will be bombarded with glowing reviews for the restaurant from legitimate publications (i.e. The New York Times, New York Magazine, Gourmet Magazine) and one not so legitimate (i.e. Tastychomp). In addition to this, you will see interviews with Bill Buford, the author Heat—the book which chronicles the life of Babbo’s kitchen--and photos of just about everything on the menu. For this reason, I refrained from taking any photographs and will hold my tongue from rambling off lofty adjectives to try and describe the food that Babbo produces. Instead, I will be terse and get straight to the point:Babbo is quite possibly the best place I have ever eaten. (Emphasize that “.”)I was expecting a lot from the restaurant ever since I was told we had one of the coveted months-in-advance-reservations, but every single one of my expectations were surpassed. The restaurant is fancy without feeling stuffy. Halfway through my first glass of wine I realized the Led Zeppelin’s first album was playing in it’s entirety over the speaker system. Throughout the night I heard The Black Keys, Dinosaur Jr. and a few other albums you would never expect to hear in a 3-star restaurant. The menu is compact and blows you away with unfamiliar ingredients hand-in-hand with Italian staples. Do you like lamb’s brains and sweet breads? Both are old-school Italian staples and well represented here. However, if the thought of these gross you out (although this would definitely be the place to try them) there are goat cheese raviolis, calamari and other delights to placate the minds of the timid but inspire the tongues of the faithful. I plan on going back as soon as I can to try as much as I possible can.The wait staff is knowledgeable, helpful and will make you feel like a million bucks. Our waiter was fantastic and he could have sold me his wife and child if he wanted to. He knew everything about every dish and could answer any obscure question I mustered up. The sommelier provided us with a delicious Amaro tasting after the meal and I won’t even get into the amount of knowledge I picked from his brain. All in all, Babbo knows how to take care of you. Whether you are coming in for a bite at the bar—which I saw many people doing. A shame they didn’t have anyone snagging reservations for them—or decide to sit and eat for three hours—this was my situation—the experience is spectacular. I have tried several of Batali’s other restaurants—Lupa, Otto and The Spotted Pig—but none have come close to transporting me to the euphoria that Babbo did. Mario Batali, I love you more than ever.
Following is a brief run-down of the meal:-A bottle of a delicious Aglianico-Bruschetta with garbanzos and olives-Marinated Fresh Sardines with Caramelized Fennel and Lobster Oil-Neci con Funghi Misti (a mushroom crepe with porcinis and oysters)-Goat Cheese Tortelloni with Dried Orange and Wild Fennel Pollen-Pumpkin“Lune” with Sage and Amaretti-Spicy Two Minute Calamari Sicilian Lifeguard Style (Lifeguard style apparently is olives, capers, couscous, and a most delicious and slightly spicy tomato broth)-Roasted Beet “Farrotto” (a type of cous cous/ risotto with beets)-Ricotta and maple cheesecake (the absolute best dessert I’ve ever had. It was as soft as an angel’s wing and tasted what heaven must taste like)-Amaro tasting (4 delicious glasses of various bitter after dinner drinks. Accompanied by a boatload of knowledge about each drink).Eat here immediately.
