Easy Morning: Fat Radish

We wouldn't call it the perfect place for either a lingering brunch or a solo English breakfast and paper. But it certainly would be our first choice for ducking into a place so chill we thought it belonged in California (at a stretch, maybe Montauk). The white-washed brick space is spacious yet cozy, minimal, aligning with our love for found objects, and respectful, having left the Red Chinese characters on the wall in homage to its former incarnation as a sausage factory. Two Brits have re-envisioned English cuisine and a few things that stood out the most after a long, lingering breakfast and two cups of strong coffee was the beet and pear juice (garden in a glass), homemade sausage and the banana bread sandwich. A coffee bar at the front allows takeaway and muffins.

17 Orchard St., NYC

Atlanta Summer Eats

It's time for NYC to humble itself (just a smidge), because there is another town that can dig into the annals of cocktail history and serve up amazing drinks to perfection. Every cocktail menu presented to us, from hotels bars to simple pre-brunch whistler-wetters, left us more indecisive than usual. And it doesn't stop there. Farm to table seasonal fare is prevalent, starting with the westside district's Abattoir (fittingly housed in a rehabbed meat-packing warehouse), which was reminiscent of Blue Hill Farm's fresh raw vegetable starters, only with a side of just-enough buttermilk that reminded us of Mom's vegetable garden in Illinois, and an adventurous menu of offals. What we went crazy for: open-faced brisket sandwich on thick-cut homemade bread and fried pickles, latin-inspired tripe stew, and a rouge chocolate stout cheddar from Oregon. Next day for brunch we went to the cusp of Buckhead to Holeman and Finch where there is the regular, seasonal menu and then there is The Burger. By the way, this is the same place that serves rooster's head and cock's comb. This is not vegetarian-territory. The Burger is two double-patties served with pickles and American cheese on a homemade bun and pretty much is in our Top 5 burgers of all time. Yes, get thee to Atlanta. And because we're rarely in this part of the country, we felt compelled to start off with the cheddar biscuit and sweet tea butter, wash it all down with a local Terrapin brew (too overpowering for the burger but great flavor) and a peche (when in Georgia) lambic, then finish off with the fried peach pie. We're OK, we've sweated it out in a 90 minute bikram session since. We were just looking for something to good to eat outside of BLT Steak for the 2nd and 3rd time, and ended up in some kind of culinary getaway.

 

Blue Hill Farm at Stone Barns

Spring has finally arrived in NY. In a matter of 10 days we went from barren post-winter trees to full bloom. Those 80 degree days a couple weeks ago gave Blue Hill Farm an early start on its asparagus season, the vegetable becoming a ubiquitous part of their 5-course tasting and in a matter of a few crucial hours the tasting became our newfound tradition for late April birthday celebrating. We gave up all control when we told them we were open to anything and everything. With that said, they strayed from our favorite rhubarb (shucks) and instead tested our palates with veal marrow and sturgeon caviar, delicious wahoo in a soup made from fresh garden greens and bouchot mussels, and the sleeper hit lamb's brain (sharing the same richness and texture of sweetbreads). Before the courses even arrived, we were given a taste of the garden then farm(s): fresh asparagus, carrots and turnips; asparagus terrine with goat cheese yogurt, topped with minced rhubarb and paired with a sweet riesling (this perfect pairing was described as a "no-brainer" by the sommelier, um, sure); Ronnybrook Farms butter, home-made cottage cheese and carrot salt served on warm country bread; sesame encrusted asparagus with prosciutto; venison sausage; that morning's farm egg with a thin slice of copa. At the last minute we went for the cheeses: goat cheese paired with minced apples (perfection) and a Virginia cheese (not as perfect) with dried fig, and washed it down with dark beer, which was a stretch for the sommelier (we thought it was a pretty perfect match ourselves).

Feedbags: Dottie's True Blue Cafe

We don't care that we had to stand in line for an hour, feeling the crisp bite of the late morning air. Neither do we care that we were just like everyone else in line: from out of town (sorta). We knew what we were getting ourselves into. We have a long memory, having  tasted it almost 12 years before. Similarly bitter cold. Similarly long line. What would be set out before us on the formica countertop, as we sat gawking at the talents being exhibited by a multi-tasking/talented cook (pretty much a one-man show with a sidekick), was grilled cornbread paired with red pepper jelly, pulled pork omelette with hashbrowns, the chipotle beef omelette with aforementioned, amazing hashbrowns, one ginger-cinnamon-whole-wheat pancake and a side of chocolate chip and butterscotch French toast. Well worth the wait (again). 522 Jones St., S.F., CA

Crosby Street Hotel Restaurant

On NYE we popped into the Crosby Street Hotel for lunch. It wasn't busy at all at 1:15 in the afternoon and perfect for escaping the frost. The room was colorful and cozy with puffy pillows on the banquette, and eye candy all around: red felt animal-shaped cut-outs affixed to the backs of charcoal grey felt chairs; the Queen's face inside a grid of shadowboxes on the wall; and a bizarrely playful fixation with vintage telephones. The ultimate reason to come back (besides this being one of the handful of restaurants in greater-SoHo that inspires a shopping break): the duck springroll. It will make you very happy. The burger, made from three cuts of beef and ground freshly on the premises, is good (beware the avocado, you purists), and the cheddar mac n cheese is OK but a bit too runny for us. We didn't get dessert, but if you're lucky they'll swing by your table with those complimentary house-made mango, strawberry or choocolate sorbet cones. 79 Crosby Street, NYC, 10012

Photo from Apartment Therapy.

Feedbag: Istanbul

We can't talk about Istanbul without waxing rhapsodic on the many virtues of its cuisine, from top to bottom. We were first hit with the basics the moment we stepped out into the street and saw the vendors. Freshly baked breads kept warm behind the glass of little red, wheeled carts, fresh mackerel sandwiches, grilled corn, roasted chestnuts, freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, lamb or chicken kebab sandwiches stuffed with french fries (why not). The spice market or Egyptian Bazaar was filled with every nut, Turkish delight, delicious string cheese (the best ever), and honeycomb. We sipped Turkish black tea on the ferry on our way to the Asian side of the City in Kadıköy where we dined at Çiya, sharing small plates of authentic Anatolian dishes of kebabs (never too much), stuffed lamb casings, meatballs (köfte), nettle soup, baked dough stuffed with chicken, raisins, rice and pinenuts. During the day, we brunched in Bebek, an upscale, serene district just north of the old city and right on the coast of the Bosphorus. The restaurant Mangerie was a laid-back, picture perfect place for lingering over fresh sage tea with cinnamon and Turkish coffee as we gawked at the incredible view. In the district of Beyoglu where we stayed, we did the 12-course tasting menu at Changa. The hip 3-story restaurant is housed in a rehabbed 19th century townhouse, its original ceiling still in tact and juxtaposing so nicely with the exposed concrete walls and contemporary sconces. On the 1st floor we walked across the glass window that looked down into the sub-level kitchen below before hiking up the three flights of stairs. Our food was sent up in a modern dumb-waiter, and our water served in jumbo-sized beakers.

Our drool-worthy Istanbul favorites that still stand out after some distance include the winter-only hot drink Sahlep (made from orchid root, milk then dusted with nutmeg), apple tea, baklava made from pistachios then drenched in honey, candied tomatoes and gözleme (blintzes stuffed with either meat, cheese or potato).

Photos:
-Changa Restaurant, Beyoglu

-Double soup of swiss chard and roasted beets, Changa

-Freshly squeezed pomegranate juice, Sultanahmet

-Spice market: nuts, beans, Turkish delight

-Sahlep

-Mangerie, Bebek

-Fish bread, Mangerie

-Turkish village eggs over toast, Mangerie

-Grilled corn, Sultanhmet

-Raki, Refki in Beyoglu

-Raspberry nini-pies, Witt Hotel, Beyoglu

-The ferry to Kadıköy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUNDAY: Weekly Pig Dissection at Joseph Leonard

Spoiler Alert: Not for our veggie friends who've already admonished the vegetarian options on the JL menu for being a bit after-thoughtful, nor those who are at least halfway through Eating Animals.

This West Village restaurant (what's a less vivid word for 'dissect'?... oh what the hell) dissects a pig and portions it out on a first come first serve basis into a six dish meal, including parts that are off the beaten menu. Their first week commencement will include gnocchi with braised pig shoulder and pork-butt meatball egg-drop soup. [Post Script: Joseph Leonard joins those dear ranks of vintage, rustic, 19th-century, Danish furniture and flea market lovers.]  

170 Waverly Place, NYC, 10014

Weekend Docket: Rain Rain Go Away

The weather outside is telling us to stay in and take shelter with something old and familiar. We think we've finally got an excuse to do a board game marathon, and revert back to those early not to mention culturally crucial years. Hey, blame it on the rain. 


This premature winter inspires take-out from Num Pang, the amazing Cambodian sandwich counter off Union Sq with the unique daily specials (if it involves duck and rhubarb, it must be et) and one of the best meatball sandwiches in Manhattan. Num Pang means "sandwich" or "bread" in Cambodian, and frankly these made-to-order sandwiches, served on a freshly toasted baguette with their signature chili mayo and house-made pickles, rival the similarly prepared Vietnamese samich. Thanks to those meatballs. And that duck confit. Ok, fine, the pork belly too. Afterwards we'll crawl under the blankets and watch Cinema Paradiso for the 67th time, hoping it rains all the way to Monday so we don't have to guilt ourselves into changing out of our pajamas to say hello to the outside world. 


Num Pang
21 East 12th Street, NYC