Return of the Food Market!

Welcome back, Madison Square Food Market—the bane of my budget and waistline (just kidding: I really don’t expect my budget to shrink or my waistline to widen, since both are perpetually small and fluctuate rarely.) It’s been such a long winter in the Flatiron district without. Was it really back in October when I first wrote about your many culinary delights? My, how the time does fly … and this blog sucks just as much as it did then. Oh well … Evidently, the month-long fest was so popular last fall that the organizers brought it back for the spring, with the addition of a few stalls of indie handicraft manufacturers. And along with the surprise of discovering the market’s return a couple weeks ago came the inevitable dread of having to decide what to select from the many options available—and how not to eat everything at once. (Oh, how lucky am I to have an expendable income, general lack of responsibility, and absence of dire life issues. That is why I write this blog after all—so I can gloat over any readers in the Third World who may stumble upon this.)
           
At lunch on the opening day, rather than be experimental with my selection, I decided to go with a sure thing and bee-lined to the Calexico grill cart on the south side of the market. 

Calexico began a few years ago in the early days of the gourmet food-vendor scene by dishing out Cal-Mex on lunch breaks downtown. I’d read that they were turning out some of the best burritos in the city, but never could make it to their cart for lunch. But once, on a trip to Brooklyn, I managed to stop by their recently-built storefront. I had a good pair of tacos, before I became aware of the breadth and diversity of NYC taco scene. This time, however, I chose a carne asada burrito to fill me up for the day—with a dose of their trademark chipotle “crack sauce.” Now, as much as I like Americanized Mexican food and the traditional stuff, I dare not claim to be a connoisseur. I cannot even compare this burrito to one from Chipotle, or that of Dos Toros (an NYC purveyor of Mission-style burritos). But let’s stick to what I do know. Would I have liked more gauc on the burrito? Sure. But, the pressing urgency of the cart’s line did allow for me to go back and request an extra "fwop". But—was the meat both well-seasoned and well-grilled? Yes, and that counts for a lot in my book. And, the crack sauce was definitely worth the extra cost. This would be the point where I include a photograph of a burrito, but I am: a) trending away from being a food pornographer, and b) sorry to report that the awesome delicousness of said burrito did not allow me time for a photo or a spare with which to take it. Moving on …

Last Wednesday, since I had an extended lunch break, I invited my aunt to the market. Last fall, the long lines at Roberta’s had prevented me from getting personal pizza from their wood-fired oven, but now that I had someone to share with, it made sense to order a pair: the SpeckenWolf, and a Bee Sting.  We grabbed them, as well as some sodas concocted from home-made syrups, and found a seat on the lawn in Madison Square Park. A pizza fresh from the oven is something to relish, but we were both too damn hungry—so no pictures! Besides sating me, these pies also inspired me get back to my own pizza-making hobby. (Among my favorites from last summer: a “smoke & fire” pizza featuring soppressata, roasted red peppers, and a touch of liquid smoke; and a dessert-like pizza of arugula and figs with a touch of honey and balsamic vinegar.) For me, the Speckenwolf did not feature enough speck—but it did hit home on the onions and mushrooms. The spicy/sweet flavors of the Bee Sting was more to my liking, and leads me to believe that a combination of my “smoke & fire” pizza with the fig one might just work … Although I’ll probably need a damn thick crust to support all that.

Speaking of fascinating flavor combinations, I discovered more at the goat’s milk ice cream stand. After the pizza, I got a scoop of their salted caramel, which suited me perfectly since my palate enjoys salty/sweet more than spicy/sweet or even sweet/sweet. A couple days later I stopped by for a cone of the flavor my aunt had gotten: bitter chocolate mint. Where my caramel had been a punch of saltiness finished off with a potent sweetness, this ice cream possessed depth and a subtle complexity I did not think possible. Rather than tasting like traditional mint chocolate chip or Thin Mint cookies, I tasted fresh mint—not overpowering, but reminiscent of mint tea, or chewing on mint leaves while playing left field during my family’s annual wiffleball game. And the chocolate had an intricate flavor profile akin to that of a good coffee, good beer, or good wine.

And finally, I treated myself to a pair of hot dogs from Asia Dog—a restaurant that combines two NYC trends: putting Asian condiments on non-Asian food (i.e., Korean tacos), and adorning hot dogs—a sacred New York culinary icon—with a plethora of toppings that make them resemble the dogs served in that “second city,” you know, that one in the Midwest or somewhere. Anyway, I ordered a Thai-style and one with kimchi and nori (seaweed) flakes. The Thai dog (of chicken meat), came with a mango, cukes, onions, cilantro, and, of course, crush peanuts. This was the kind of heft and variety of textures that should appear in a good sandwich, or hot dog for that matter. The kimchi—fermented spicy cabbage—on my beef hot dog wasn’t as tongue-burning as I’d assumed it would be (which is both good and bad), and the nori were too few (granted, this critique comes from someone who has been known to snack on seaweed flakes.) However, I did realize two things: first, kimchi, combining a cool relish with a spicy sauce, is my ideal hot dog topping (sorry, sauerkraut and spicy mustard—we’ll always have the ball park), and second, I could probably make my own kimchi easily, and enjoy it on my hot dogs all summer long. So, the next time I blog on food, it will likely feature my experimentation with jars of fermenting cabbage and a journey in search of Korean chili powder. Bring on summer, and keep the good food coming.

     

Breakfast: bloggable minutiae reaches a new low (or high?)

Yes, it's come to this. Me, telling you, what I had for breakfast. (Truly, the nadir of blogging knows no limit.) Usually, it's just oatmeal and tea. But on the weekends that changes. 

When I have time, I will make brunch for my roommates.  Last weekend I made a pretty good applesauce cake, and attempted a Spanish-style tortilla (as you may have seen better executed on my friend Alex's blog.) And though she may have the recipes, photos, and humorous testimonials that make a good food blog, she does not have the regular access to New York and its eats you will find on this one.

And speaking of such things, on some weekends I work. And since I must go into the city early, I usually pick up breakfast and coffee somewhere to make the morning bearable.  Sometimes, I'm looking for good coffee, with the meal being secondary. And other times the treat is more of a pastry. My standard is the pain au trois chocolat from Bouchon Bakery. Yes, I know--very bourgeoisie. But it's awesome: a chocolate-dough croissant, with creamy chocolate filling, and little drizzled on top ... decadent, and it keeps me buzzing all morning. I should post a picture here, but you'll pick up one the next time you're near Columbus Circle. 

And although I had to be at the Lincoln Center again yesterday morning, I just had the chocolate croissant the last time I worked a Saturday. And besides, I was a looking for something to hold over my doughnut craving, as I eagerly anticipate the opening of the Doughnut Plant branch at the Chelsea Hotel--very near to where I also work.  (And by "eager", I mean that I mention it to my roommate nearly every week, check the website often, and even monitor the situation in person whenever I visit the public library across the street from the future storefront.)  So, I sought out a list of the best doughnuts around not made at the Doughnut Plant (or in my kitchen).  And as it turns out, Bombolini is very highly regarded and very near the LC.

I'd read that the Nutella-filled bombolini was very good, so I of course selected the one indicated by a chocolate-covered hazelnut balanced on top. But for my other doughnut, I was at a loss.  I didn't want to seem too ignorant of Italian, (genuinely wanted something not in the realm of chocolate), so I avoided the labels I could not translate and simply asked for a fruit-filled one.  I got an apricot, which turned out to be a good choice.

The dough itself was chewy, with a nice fried crunch on the outside.  The ratio of dough to filling was balanced, leaning slightly towards the filling, which is what I want if it's especially good. The apricot was sweeter and thicker than I'd expected. Granted, my only real reference for apricot pastries would be my grandfather's apricot kalac (although not as good as the nut version--which he will tell you is "so freakin' easy" to make.) 'Twas a good doughnut, with even a powdered sugar garnish.

Fortunately, I had to handle several phone calls and could digest a little before the Nutella one.  Again, the dough was good, with the filling being definitely lighter than Nutella.  Though delicious, it did not have the intense chocolate and hazelnut of the pure spread. But, considering most eater's palates, a more custard-like filling was probably a good decision.

Yes, the bombolini were rather good (though perhaps not the healthiest way to start the morning), but ... the craving for the Doughnut Plant's seasonal specialties and solid standards (and amazing chai!) was not abated.

Tommy had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb ...

So, it’s been a week since I saw the lamb spinning at the Ilili booth in Madison Square (for video evidence, see my previous post).  And after an additional hour of waiting after work, I finally had me some fresh-roasted lamb schwarma.

After all the anticipation, nothing could really live up to what I’d expected—not that the schwarma wasn’t amazing and delicious, it just wasn’t mind-blowing. Though I basically paid for the novelty of having a sandwich with meat carved only minutes before, the wheat wrap featured a few simple flavors with its hefty dose of cilantro, a tomato/onion relish, tzatziki—and, of course, the hot tender chunks of lamb.  Besides a good hand-held dinner, one could say it was a good representation of both Lebanese cuisine and the dedication that goes into producing a quality food through a time-intense method and skilled craftsmanship.

The food market strikes again!

Obviously I have a thing for big meat sandwiches.  Yesterday it was the pastrami slider from the Almond booth--my first meal from the east side of the food square:

Though the bottom half of the onion-crusted ciabatta roll was soggy, the sandwich remained delicious and incredibly flavorful--perhaps the most intense yet.  Pastrami sandwiches from New York delis typically feature the smoky cured meat ... and not much else. (I think a certain Mitch Hedberg bit captures this well.)   This rendition included a generous smear of grainy mustard and a true dollop of jalapeno-pickle relish in the center of the meat.  The whole spices, heat, and sourness almost overwhelmed the pastrami--but the tender meat remained the foundation of the sandwich.  As usual, it disappeared quickly.

Time for some Pies-n-Thighs! Well, actually, neither as it turns out ...

Ah, Pies-n-Thighs.  I’d been waiting a week to try their fare, ever since my friend Will raved about his lunch from their booth shortly after I finished my sloppy goat.  I had considered eating an early supper on Saturday at the fundraiser for the Serbian Orthodox church across the street (grilled sausage, assorted pastries, carrot cake), but they were closing up for the day when I strolled over.  So, to Food Square it was.
  

I had hoped to get a complete meal from the girls at Pies-n-Thighs, but by 5 pm the pie list looked depleted. So I nixed dessert and doubled up on sides. In minutes I walked away with a chicken biscuit and hearty servings of baked beans and collard greens.

As usual, the small eating area was packed, so I made for the park.  I just so happened to pass a skinless quadruped on a spit over open coals--a whole fucking lamb roasting outdoors in the middle of Manhattan.  Of course I stopped, just as others had, to watch the animal rotate.  Here’s a video, if you don’t believe me (a photograph wouldn’t have done it justice):

I listened as the roastmaster described the taste of lamb brain, which he’d just offered to a passing couple. And as I spoke with him, I learned that this lamb was killed just three days before, and would be going straight into the lamb schwarma served at the adjacent stand--and that they’d be doing another roast next Saturday.  One guess what I’ll be having after work next weekend.  Oh, and before I walked away, the roastmaster informed me that the chicken biscuit on my tray was amazing, and one of the three best things at the Square.  Confident in my selection, I finally found a bench and got down to the business of eating.

the spread

First, the chicken biscuit smelled delicious.  Then, in a small explosion of flavor, it tasted equally terrific. The three-inch biscuit was flaky and crunchy, with browning evident--all qualities sought in a good biscuit.  Three flavors combined perfectly in the sandwich: butter, honey, and hot sauce--with the fired chicken patty and biscuit mere vehicles for this dangerous cocktail.  The chicken was both crisp and moist (chicken’s ideal state, although if you asked a chicken it would say “alive”--but if you’re talking to a chicken you’re probably tripping so hard you that you’ll attempt to eat it in a sandwich as is).  I’m sure the processed patty was locally-sourced and perhaps even prepared in-house, but when I think of fried chicken, I would like to recognize the part of the chicken I’m eating, and have some skin to chew on.  (I’m sorry this post has gotten so graphic and offensive to non-carnivores; first the goat carcass, now all this chicken talk.)  But it was a sandwich after all--and I’m sure they fry a damn good bird at the main branch in Brooklyn.  And perhaps the best part was that the three sauces, after dripping from the sandwich, congealed on the plate to form the ultimate sauce--a powerful food synthesis, and a pleasure to dip my biscuit in.

Now, for the sides.  The beans (enough for two to share) were coated in a spicy-sweet sauce, though not too heavily.  Onions and ham bits complimented the beans, which were chewy and dense--thankfully, because otherwise I would have wolfed down the cup faster than the sandwich.  They were that strangely addictive--crack beans, perhaps?

The collard greens were bitter and refreshing, a nice departure from the other overwhelming flavors.  Topped with hot sauce and punctuated by a smattering of pulled pork pieces,the first bites were flavorful.  But this faded.  Now I don’t know how collard greens should ideally be prepared, so I’m not sure if they should have been so watery.  If any collared connoisseurs read this, forgive me for my ignorance and nit-picking (ugh, what an awful connotation.)

And, slowly, I polished off an incredible, and nearly disgusting, meal.  But unlike the KFC Double Down, the Pies-n-Thighs chicken biscuit resides on the good side of the “amazing/disgusting” line--a line I don’t stray near with my own cooking.  But, if you don’t risk plunging into the abyss of in-edibility, then you'll never know how high your chicken can soar.

A pigshead sandwich? Sure, why not?

On a glorious fall afternoon, I took advantage of my long lunch break to check out Food Square, and pick up my second meat sandwich from Resto: the pigshead.  Now, I understand that this may not sound appealing to everyone (particularly the vegan and vegetarian among us, and those practicing certain religious observances), but to a porcinephile like me, this sandwich drew me in more than the sloppy goat.

the pigshead

As with the goat, a large kaiser roll anchored the pile of meat stuffed inside.  Since the pork was ready-made, my sandwich took all of a second prepare--and off I went to sit in the sun.  Upon opening the bag (which was smart to request in spite of my recent attempt to reduce the number of paper and plastic bags I use), I discovered that an orange tangy grease had liberated itself from my sandwich.  It sat in puddles in the wrapper, and I scrambled to protect my lap.  Certainly, this unappealing detail may prevent the sandwich from appearing in front of restaurant diners anytime soon--but it’s likely that the staff at Resto would be sure to present a clean plate.  Regardless, greasy this sandwich was, and it proved not only edible but delicious (and healthy?  Hahaha ... no.)

Opening the sandwich for the photograph above left me with mixed feelings: while the meat-to-bread ratio favored the bread, disappointing considering the 50/50 divide of the goat, I did see pickled onions strewn about the roasted pork--a touch that had been lacking with the previous sandwich.  However, all disappointment faded upon biting into the sandwich--and soon enough the sandwich itself.  The shredded pork was spicy and soft with fat, and the surplus of bread actually worked to soak up the grease.  And of course this collision produced a magically sumptuous mess in the midst of the sandwich, the kind of food tectonics I champion.  The sandwich vanished from my hands quicker than it should have.  However, this left me with enough time to bask in the sun, before cooling off with a refreshing raspberry and mango gelato.

How about a sloppy goat sandwich?

Since the end of September, there has been a veritable food orgy set up outside my place of employment.  Literally steps from where I work, the Madison Square Park Conservancy has set up a month-long market, including “Food Square”: a dozen stalls (and wood-fired pizza oven!) featuring delicious food from some of the hippest restaurants in the area and the city at large.  Basically, I’ve been salivating ever since my first tour of the offerings at the square (actually, that would be kind of gross, but you get the idea.)  Besides contemplating what to eat, I’ve wondered whether it will be worth it to disrupt my PB&J and apple regimen, and actually start buying lunches in the city.  But as the food stall will only be around until October 23, I might as well splurge.

The first thing that caught my eye was the sloppy goat sandwich, from the restaurant Resto.  The first of the many meat-based sandwiches I aim to try, the sloppy goat turned out to be pretty good, and a larger meal than expected. 

the sloppy goat

The house-made kaiser roll was soft, yet it supported the mound of goat filling well.  And as for the filling, its orange sauce was spicy and sweet, with a tingling aftertaste.  The goat, finely ground, was lighter than a beef-based barbeque—with a certain goatiness escaping the sauce’s clutch.  I even noticed the inclusion of some onions and carrots in the mix.  However, this seemed a half-hearted attempt to accentuate the meat: I only counted one or two carrot cubes in the entire sandwich, which I would call underwhelming if only they didn’t seem so out of place to begin with.  The onions though, did fit with the sauce, and I would have liked to have seen (and tasted) more of it.  And I understand that it is a sloppy goat sandwich I’m talking about here, with meat as the primary focus, but I still would have liked a stronger vegetable presence.  A slaw of some kind?  Pickled cabbage or something?  While the sauce was complex, the sandwich remained simple—and I guess that was the key to its success after all.  Now, should chefs be doing these sorts of riffs on home-cooked standards, or featuring them on gourmet menus at all?  Who knows, but I’m sure the trend will continue, with delicious results.