Get in my belly

Potato and onion gratin with shirred eggs: after potatoes are done, crack two eggs on top, pour a little more Ronnybrook cream over, add another pat of butter, and stick it back in the oven.

Totally ridiculous. Totally awesome. And a really bold way to start the day.

If I wrote keepin’-it-real hymns, then they’d probably sound like that. My Easter Sunday rocked, especially for someone who’s not particularly religious (does Santa Monica yoga count?). I ain’t going to lie. I love the idea of Jesus. I even just like saying Jesus. I hope I’m not blaspheming too badly here. But if there is a non-believer’s correlate to being “full of Christ’s love” (shoutout to Mandy Moore’s awesome acting skills in Saved), I’m going to argue that I found it in not one, but two activities this past Sunday.

1) Planet B-Boy: overly sentimental, yes; full of non-hugging Asian family love, yes; totally sick dancing—absolutely. The documentary follows five breakdancing crews as they prepare for the Battle of the Year and fills in a little about their backgrounds. The filmmaking isn’t going to blow your mind, but if you can manage to suspend the cynicism however briefly (if I can do it…) it’s got heart. And yes, 39% of why I liked it was that there were two Korean crews profiled, but who wouldn’t with an exchange that went something like this in the days leading up to the Battle, which was in Germany? “Hey, don’t eat so much kimchee, we’re going to run out.” “I can’t bear the thought of there being no kimchee.” Amen.

2) Not one, but two lamb pies. With three pounds of ground lamb, we made a Moroccan lamb pie and a shepherd’s pie. Pastry was rolled, lots of simmering was involved, and the unseasonable heat almost did us in. Yes, living in Socal can be hard. But now I want to put raisins and pine-nuts in everything and mashed potatoes on top of everything. And not to forget the tasty desserts supplied by KW: the fatty bar & buttermilk-lemon sherbert. Good times.

First Mr. Softee truck sighting of the year today.

Shaved foie with lychees. A genius dish.

Dinner at Momofuku Ko was maybe one of the funnest ever. And it’s pretty much all because of the company I was keeping, cooks on the other side of the counter included. The food was pretty good too.

Other favorites:

Fluke, buttermilk, chive, poppyseeds.

Black trumpets and pea soup.

I will definitely go back. Or try, anyway.

No. With reservations: really, I love what Dom DeMarco stands for as much as the next guy, but you don’t wait two hours for pizza in Italy. And shouldn’t anywhere else. It’s pretty good pizza, but not mindblowing. And it wasn’t mindblowing the last time either. I’m never going to DiFara’s on a Sunday night again.

Yes. With a car and a starting point in lowest Manhattan, getting to Jersey City is no sweat. I never bother to take down the names of the restaurants I go to when Robert’s conducting the train, but this is an Alexandrian fish place on or near Newark Ave. and all those Indian joints and cash & carrys. Their fish “barbecue” is really grilled until blackened over charcoal. You discard the skin and dig in to the sweet, subtly smoky porgy or striped bass or whatever it is they pulled out of the water that day. The fried fish comes with a garlicky, tomatoey vinaigrette. Great dirty rice and eggplant. (Also, the neighborhood is worth checking out for the neon signage. There’s a lot of it. I mean, what does a dentist need with neon? Can you even see that shit in the daytime?)

I have a new everyday taqueria — Dos Amigos next to the REI on Brannan. FYI, my calculation for an everyday taqueria goes something like this:

rating α taste ÷ (distance + price)

The meats and juicy and delicious, particularly the chile verde ones. It’s a tiny storefront tucked along a street next to REI (I replaced my mini-nalgene so now I can be hydrated again), and there is a little table inside and then a line of tables outside, along a busy street that leads to the highway. Also I had to take a photo of this:

i just realized i haven’t posted anything in a year. sheesh. lest you think i haven’t been eating anything in all that time (far from the truth) i thought i’d just mention a pretty much completely disappointing recent trip to locke-ober, a venerable boston institution. according to wikipedia it’s the second-oldest restaurant in boston, and despite recent renovations and new management by lydia shire the place is just about as outdated as you’d expect. the place was originally created as a gentleman’s restaurant, not even allowing women until the early 1970’s or so, and we heard tales of the shenanigans that went on in the private rooms in the upper floors. nowadays the place is still so subpar that one shudders to think of how it was before lydia shire’s involvement. the service was poor, the entrees were all steaks and the like, everything was oversalted and/or overly greasy, and the desserts were mediocre (w/ a particularly deplorable version of a baked alaska). the place does offer the occasional surprise, such as the indian pudding, but hardly enough to remotely tempt you to go. and as for lydia shire, she’s batting 0 for 2 for me, and although i’d always thought of her as being a boston icon i have yet to taste anything of hers that wasn’t mediocre at best and completely unappetizing at worst. maybe someone can stand up for her and enlighten me, but currently i have no desire to give her another chance for quite a long time.

let it be known that someone with minimal cooking skills is embarking on a quest … namely, by taking vegetarian chinese cooking lessons at the aforementioned (by winnie) buddhist cultural center in cambridge MA. 8 weeks of 2 hours every sat early evening starting this week. crazy, i know, but as it’s hands-down my favorite restaurant ever i’ve been looking forward to it for a long while (since i believe they only do the classes once a year). any readers in boston care to join me? contact me for details. and maybe i’ll even be motivated to show off my new-found knowledge in future posts … that is assuming i haven’t destroyed the kitchen beyond repair.

(In homage to the last season of The Wire. RIP.)
(What will I watch now?)

Pura Vida didn’t have any flounder roe at the Greenmarket this weekend, but they did have squid again. I got the skate as well, but I’m working on perfecting my skate technique — to at least make it somewhat photogenic (as yet, it ain’t). I’ve cooked squid twice in the past ten days. I should say also that I’ve cooked it twice in my life, ever. Which is shocking, now that I’ve experienced for myself how easy and fast it is to prepare. And pretty idiot-proof in the taste department.

I sauteed cabbage with onions (a nod to the O’Yangs), cooked up a big pot of rice, and stirfried some squid and celery with a lot of salt and pepper, a little slivered ginger and a healthy dose of fish sauce. No recipe, just a thought I had as I was walking home from the subway. The ex-vegetarian was a fan, which was very satisfying indeed. I will definitely make this again. (Don’t be surprised, also, if pork goes underground for a while and cephalopods get a lot of play.)

I think I might be getting this whole cooking-like-Mom thing. And I didn’t even know that’s what I’d been craving all along.

(Also, the Wire reference doesn’t really go beyond the post title.)

Yes, I know, St. Patrick’s is not for a few days yet, but tonight was the right night to celebrate. And Suzanne Goin knows just the right way to celebrate:

Corned beef with cabbage (and turnips, carrots, and potatoes and an excellent mustard-parsley sauce).

Chocolate Guinness cake, with Guinness ice cream.