Falafel In New York

I'm not sure why there is so much good falafel in New York. Pretty much every neighborhood has at least a better than average place and some much better. Filling, cheap and generally open late falafel is good anytime food.
Most times when I find myself in the village looking for tasty chick pea treats I head to Mamoun's, a local chain with a carry out window. But today with winter cold and afternoon wind settling in I slipped into another mini chain, Taim a bright spot in the West Village. Taim is all vegetarian. They offer a selection of salads and sides and three flavors of falafel, green, red and spicy. The spicy, laced with harissa, is usually my first choice but the green with hints of cilantro and mint seemed just right on an afternoon where I was dying to see a bit of spring to come. Though offered as a sandwich or platter today my falafel came as a side to a tasty plate of Sabich, thin slices of eggplant fried to order and topped with Srug a traditional Yemeni hot sauce -- my favorite Taim menu item along with savory Moroccan carrots.

Shopping In New York's Little Italy

 It's been years since New York's Little Italy was the vibrant immigrant community featured in movies and memories. As rents have gone up more and more of the first generation Italians that were once the life blood of the area have moved out while upscale condos and even more -- do we really need them -- Chinese souvenir shops have moved in. Yet tourists still flock to Mulberry and Mott (between Canal and Spring) for a taste of what once was.
Despite what was probably an inevitable decline (Italian immigration slowed dramatically in the 1960's) and the Italian carnival/ Disneyland atmosphere prevalent today ("Hey bootiful -- we got pasta mangia mangia") I still love Little Italy. I love standing in the shops, loading up on fresh pasta and smoked mozzarella. I love hearing lilting strains of Italian on the street -- though these days it's mostly travelers from the boot in search of America's Italian Heritage.
Years ago full of Italian groceries and latterias, today few -- those that reinvented as Italian grocery stores not just homemade cheese shops -- remain. The big two, DiPalo's and Alleva, stock not only mozzarella and ricotta made in house but a variety of olive oils and Italian groceries.

 Alleva calls itself the oldest Italian cheese shop in America (I'm not sure where a more than 100 year old cheese shop of any kind exists) and only recently (well 8 or 10 years back) gave into the public's demand for more than just cheese with meats and dry goods and delicious made to order sandwiches. Their ricotta -- triple drained, thick and creamy is worth the trip. I could easily sit on the stop and eat it with a spoon like ice cream. Now made for the shop at a dairy farm (longtime friends of the Alleva family) near Albany the lightly yellow ricotta (that's the extra butterfat) might be Alleva's best but not most popular item. Their fresh mozzarella floating in salty brine brings customers in the door. My favorite, scamorza con burro is a dry version with a creamy runny buttery center. Delicious.

 Just down the block on the other side of Piemonte Ravioli, a wonderland of both fresh and dried pastas is DiPalo's, Little Italy's remaining Italian Grocery Superstore.

 The DiPalo's are committed to providing not just the best homemade products and local breads but also the best Italy has to offer. They make frequent trips to stock the shop with new and interesting tastes and the small shop is packed to the gills with irresistible items for DiPalo's discerning an sizable clientele. Leaning on the marble counter one of the DiPalo brothers (two brothers and a sister now run the 90-some year old shop) handed me tastes of Italian cheese while he ladled out meatballs, Tuscan beans and my favorite DiPalo's antipasto salad -- olives (three colors today), artichokes, red peppers, cheese and salami. Standing at the counter I tasted (and bought) a wedge of Alta Badia (it was new to me), an Italian (from the Dolomites) raw milk cheese similar to a Gruyere but with a more earthy, nutty flavor. James is going to love it. I can't wait to bring some home for a special Little Italy inspired grilled cheese.

 I usually stroll right by the pastry shops -- not many of them are any good really -- but today I couldn't walk by La Bella Ferrara, another of Little Italy's centenarians. I don't know why I couldn't stay away. Maybe it was the sign announcing Sfingi and Zeppole, traditional desserts for St Joseph's day (Italy's Festa del Papà).

 La Bella Ferrara may very well make these pastries everyday -- I honestly don't know -- but wandering by on March 19th it just seemed right. I joined the throng at the counter for a single mini-sfingi (sfinge? sfinga?), a creampuff like shell filled with super sweet and -- okay I admit it -- super delicious -- ricotta cream dusted with powdered sugar by the young lady behind the counter.

 Future generations may prefer supermarkets and grocery deliveries but while it lasts I'll stroll Little Italy and carry my bags for a living taste of years gone by.

Ivan Ramen

I've been following the cooking career of Long Island native Ivan Orkin for quite some time now. The self described "Japanophile" became a ramen master in of all placed Tokyo -- winning awards for his modern renditions of the traditional favorite. Food magazine have been gushing about him for years -- imagine an American conquering the Japanese palate. When Orkin opened his first American outpost on Manhattan's hipster heavy Lower East Side I vowed to sit at his counter. I love ramen and am a regular at several Los Angeles outposts.

As luck would have it I looked up and found myself mere blocks away from Ivan Ramen's Orchard Ave outpost. 

I settled in with a view into the small kitchen and ordered one of my favorites, spicy chili ramen. And, because Orkin has made a name with inventive combinations of traditional flavors, deep fried pork meatballs. These came out scorching hot with a creamy buttermilk dressing and drizzles of slightly sweet soy based sauce. Bonito flakes covered the top. The pork meatballs were amazingly light with a crisp panko based crust. But overall not very well seasoned and not special enough to warrant the extra calories.

Unlike other ramen shops I frequent, Ivan Ramen charges for the egg in the broth which is a standard topping. Much has been made in the press of the waitstaff's pushing the toppings that turn an already heftily priced bowl of broth and noodles into a $20 (for all of the add ons -- roasted tomato, egg, and pork) not quite quick soup lunch. 

Bowls seemed to be coming out of the kitchen a little slowly even though the restaurant was not terribly crowded. My deep red broth was flavorful and searing, painfully hot with chiles but not temperature. The soup was oddly lukewarm and the egg actually cold. A kitchen misfire that cheated me of the warming delicious feeling I was craving on a cold windy day. 

The kitchen didn't mean to serve lukewarm broth and I thought about sending it back. But the noodles drew me in. Chewy delicious rye based ramen noodles custom made for Ivan Ramen. Though the kitchen may be inconsistent I'd go back and probably happily lay down $20 for another chance at those noodles. Maybe they will get right next time.

Russ and Daughters

No trip to New York, no matter how short, is complete without a stop at Russ and Daughters.
The great grandmother of the city's appetizing stores Russ and Daughters specializes in -- for lack of a better explanation -- food to eat with bagels. There are myriad varieties of lox and smoked salmon (I love the pastrami flavor), sturgeon, whitefish, herring, sable and more -- each one personally selected for optimum quality by the Russ family. And then there's the slicing. A nearly lost art, lox should be sliced by hand and thin. Thin enough -- it is said --  to read a newspaper through. In years past -- though some still may -- customers would line up behind their favorite slicer for lox with tremendous flavor and delicate texture that melted beautifully into each bite of bagel and cream cheese. For more than 100 years, starting from a Lower East Side pushcart, Russ and Daughters has been serving up the kind of Ashkenazi jewish specialties that non-jews have come to love, that New York does better than anywhere. Quite simply though other appetizing counters remain in the area (no where near the number that once peppered the jewish neighborhoods in the city) Russ and Daughters has survived and thrived because it is the best. The oldest, the last, and the best.

Staten Island Red sauce

There's a certain kind of soulful neighborhood Italian restaurant that I think doesn't really exist outside of the NY area. Casual family friendly spots, priced for the working class that offer a vast menu of Italian American specialties and crisp crust pizza.
Everyone has his favorite. A new friend recently took a group of us to his red sauce spot of choice, Denino's of Staten Island.
As we sat down the table was already covered with eggplant, chicken and shrimp parmigiana platters -- topped with a heavy but tasty red sauce and gooey, dreamy melted mozzarella. The sideboard held crisp green salads and one of my favorites, cold scungilli salad. Scungilli, a long-time Italian American favorite, has practically disappeared from the menu of Italian restaurants though under the English name whelks they are becoming an ingredient of the moment among celebrity chefs and hipsters alike. I forgot how much I like scungilli.
Next came lightly fried calamari with both spicy and mild red sauce for dipping. The food kept coming.
I thought it was over and then came the pizza. Crisp, hot, covered in melted cheese. Wide slices just right for folding over before a first joyous bite.
Though chefs in the city are trying to claim and create chains of the area's red sauce tradition with "joints" like Parm and Carbone, the real thing still exists, and while there still are family owned restaurants and delis serving up hearty red sauce on stacks of paper plates and hero rolls I'll be there.

Fish and Clams

James and I have been rushing in opposite directions the last couple weeks barely touching down at home.
We finally sat down to dinner, with a visiting friend. No time for elaborate recipes but I wanted a dish that felt special (and impressed a guest) -- and fell into the very strict guideline of my latest "I've got to lose some weight" diet. UGH.
Where I landed was simple savory dish of seasonal halibut with leeks, mushrooms and clams. One pot, poaching broth, tons of flavor.
To start I sautéed thinly sliced leeks (2), beautiful local king oyster mushrooms, and garlic in a bit of olive oil. When the vegetables were soft -- about 7 minutes -- I splashed in a bit of wine. I only had red open which worked just fine with the halibut but normally I would have  used white. I let the wine evaporate away and added in 3 cups of chicken broth. I cheated a bit and added about 1TB of butter for some extra flavor. When the liquid was boiling I nestled my fish in the north, covered the pan and let the mixture steam over low heat for two minutes. The fish was particularly thick so it needed a little head start over the clams. After two minutes I added in the scrubbed Manilla clams (about 2 dozen) covered the pot and continued to cook over low heat fro 7 minutes until the clams had all opened and the fish was cooked through. I brought the broth dish, sprinkled with parsley, to the table along with steamed jasmine rice -- for those still allowed to eat carbs -- and a fresh green salad.
James loves clams but he is not a big fish eater. I was blown away by his reaction to this fish dinner. He loved it, as did our guest. This may be my new go to diet friendly dinner for guests. I'm already plotting versions with snapper and shrimp, delicate tomato sauces and harissa spiked broth.

Republique

For quite some time I was determined to boycott Republique. The restaurant occupies the space that housed Campanile for more than 20 years.
Mark Peel's Campanile was an innovator and powerful influence on the generations of chef's and restaurants to follow. Today we nearly take for granted chef interpreted versions of simple dishes bolstered with first rate ingredients, farm to table vegetables and chef/farmer relationships that produce high quality meat for fine dining tables. Campanile was warm, delicious and truly American. A chef's restaurant before the era of restauranteurs. I loved it and I miss it.
But now there is Republique with Walter Manzke behind the stove. Manzke is no stranger to critic's praise -- having re-opened Bastide and later wowing the press at Church and State. Along the way Manzke found himself on multiple best restaurant lists. Like their predecessors at Campanile Walter Manzke handles the savory and his wife Margarita runs the "bread program," at breakfast time filling the former La Brea bakery space with a selection of pastries, cakes, breads and rolls too sumptuous to ignore. It takes nerve to charge an extra $5 for French butter but Margarita Manzke's breads are worth the splurge. We are living in a golden age of American baking, no doubt in part ushered in by Mark Peel's original partner and former wife Nancy Silverton (now of LA's Mozza).
Perennially crowded, Republique serves three meals a day to grateful LA crowds. Nearly two years after opening dinner reservations seem nearly impossible. So my friend and I wandered in -- well really waited in line to order breakfast and find a spot in Charlie Chaplain's former office.
I can't find fault with the food. The creative menu is executed near flawlessly. Our kimchi fried rice nodded to the popular Korean dish with delicious bites of tender, savory short ribs. Mushroom toast -- hardly an appealing description, paired soft scrambled eggs with sautéed mushrooms and peppery arugula. The bread is crusty and chewy. A bacon date "pop-tart" though light on the bacon was sweet and savory at once and a tasty foil to lattes I wish were bigger.
I suppose there is room in my heart for Republique. But I can't help but hope -- looking up at the portrait of bad boy chef Marco Pierre White that holds court over the bistro's bar -- that the Manzkes understand the debt they owe to chef's like Mark Peel (and Nancy Silverton) and how their innovation made today's Republique possible.