For my grandfather on his 90th birthday

Having had the good fortune to grow up just a few short miles from my grandparents in Kenai, Alaska, of course I have countless fond memories of my relationship with both of them. From here on the East Coast I realize that I may not share all the interests with my grandfather George that he shares with my father or my brother, but what I may lack in speed at skinning a caribou or my aim with a 12-gague, I make up for in the shared passion George and I have for good food in any and all situations. At least I got those genes. I’ve always admired – and aspired to cultivate – my grandfather’s bottomless cache of great recipes (and his similarly bottomless ability to devour them), and so many of my favorite memories of him include the food we both care so much about. His inimitable (and to this day, mouthwatering) wild blueberry waffles, which he would dutifully and happily make every time I requested them, alternated with his light, fluffy double-layered biscuits – mine and Ethan’s favorites, respectively – almost every Saturday or Sunday morning of my childhood as far back as I can remember. And if he ever felt like making anything besides those two breakfasts, he never mentioned it. Maybe it was just the comfort in routine so common in children that made Ethan’s and my orders so predictable every weekend, but I like to think that even then, we knew that we would spend the rest of our lives at diners, breakfast joints and our own kitchen tables measuring all future biscuits and waffles to that exacting and delicious standard, and always feeling a little better knowing that our grandfather, the champion, was still on top.

Even though hunting isn’t my strong suit, I always looked forward to our yearly caribou hunting trips across Cook Inlet, and I especially looked forward to what my grandfather packed in those two huge waterproof duffle bags. I was never disappointed. As my brother and dad headed out to lie in wait for the game that would feed us over the course of the next year, George and I bonded three meals a day, in the middle of nowhere, over simple, rustic and sometimes bizarre foods that I can still smell and taste – Top Ramen with fresh willow ptarmigan, for instance, is a recipe that combines one of the world’s most ubiquitous junk foods with an unbelievably delicious game bird that one simply can’t find – farmed, let alone wild – at even the finest restaurants in New York City. And needless to say, it’s incredible. Every meal was planned to be different, delicious, and, miraculously, all cooked over a campfire or that red Coleman stove. Dried oatmeal, ground coffee and canned goods were mixed with wild berries, fresh red meat and the occasional produce brought from home – I’ll never forget the time I slept for three nights with an onion in my sleeping bag so it wouldn’t freeze in the sub-zero temperatures before we had a chance to dice and saute it. It was worth it.

The food my grandfather and I love has always been a part of our friendship and his household, and the sights, smells and tastes that I anticipate every time I enter his house never disappoint. Beer-battered, deep-fried fresh wild halibut with homemade tartar sauce, home-smoked wild salmon, homemade barbecue sauce on grilled ribs and chicken, the best peanut brittle I’ll ever have the pleasure of eating, immense, rowdy, 2-hour taco feeds with his friends Bert and Jeff – the list goes on and on and on. But perhaps even more than George Ford’s love for food, his love for preparing it and sharing it with the people he cares about says so much about him and what makes him such a great father, grandfather and friend. More than a single dish, recipe or story ever could. George has an admirable passion for food and for cooking and sharing it – and I’m so grateful he has shared it with me for the past 27 years. He is 90 years old this week, and like the rest of him, his tastebuds, stomach and kitchen are still going strong.

Thank you, George, for all of the delicious dinners and desserts – the tacos and waffles, the biscuits and brittles. And for all the happy memories that go along with them. Here’s to many, many more to come.

An open letter to the pizzerios of NYC

Dearest Dough-Tossers, Cheese Graters, Marinariers and Pizzerios of the Greater New York City Area:

Let me begin this letter by saying that I love your pizza. There are dozens of pizza places in this fine city that make unbeatable pizza – both in the boutique, brick oven, single-serving varieties as well as the old-school-huge-pie-three-cans-of-black-olive late-night varieties – and trust me – NYC wouldn’t be NYC without you. But I have a tiny suggestion. Some might say that what I am about to write is inappropriate – sacrilege, even – but surely there is progress to be made in the field of pizza, and surely without alternating viewpoints and ingredients we as a pizza city run the risk of becoming rusty and obsolete – or worse, pretentious and stubborn. But I think my humble suggestion would elevate the pizza of NYC to glorious new heights – while always leaving room in our hearts and stomachs for the unadulterated classics we’ve all come to know and love. So here goes.

I was in Eugene, Oregon for a few days over the summer. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hear me out: the West Coast is surprisingly skilled with pizza. And although I really have come to appreciate the simple in pizza – a good margherita (or its counterpart, the “regular slice”), for instance – since living in NYC, my eyes were opened after a trip to the Pizza Research Institute.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Pizza Research Institute? Come on. That sounds like a themed restaurant for children even too nerdy for Mars 2112. But they’re serious folks at the PRI. There is noble, honorable work being done at this institution. Delicious work.

As we sat down and I looked over the menu, first with a passive lack of interest, then with intrigue, then with a watering mouth and bugged out eyes – I realized that this was no ordinary pizza joint. These guys do not mess around. The “P3” – pears, pesto and roasted potatoes seemed at first a sloppy gimmick of alliteration that would be a cacophony of clashing tastes in my mouth. But as I thought about each of those flavors – the crisp, tart pear, the hearty robust potato, the basily, olivy roundness of fresh pesto – I started to salivate and quiver in my seat, eagerly awaiting our server’s arrival. When she showed up – promptly – to tell us the specials (you mean there are items even more special than those I already have my heart set upon?), and mentioned their extensive list of Pacific Northwest microbrews by the pitcher, I started to feel light-headed. And when she told me the two specials – curried cauliflower/pear/dried cranberry/CILANTRO PESTO (my heart is racing even now), and roasted anaheim peppers/FRESH RASPBERRIES/creme fraiche/habanero oil – I literally interrupted her with an exuberant “you have got to be kidding me.”

The illustrious P3.

Curried cauliflower and cilantro pesto are almost too amazing to describe.

Raspberries and habanero oil. Of course!

Oh, and the whole menu? Vegetarian or vegan. In many cases this would be a complaint. But with this food, it is a miraculous, joyful compliment.

I realized that I was ready to cast off my NYC pizza snobbery and try something so crazy it just might work. And work it did. Like a well-oiled machine. LIKE A WELL-OILED MACHINE.

I cannot tell you how amazing this pizza was. It was everything it had the potential to be and more. So many flavors, working in perfect, complex harmony. And all on a delicious herbed (I know, more blasphemy) semolina crust. It was like nothing I have ever had, on a pizza or otherwise.

And the best part about the whole thing is that the recipes are totally transparent. No bizarre sauces or emulsions, no secret ingredients. As complicated as these recipes may be by pizza standards, every slice was beautifully simple in reality. Everything is right there in front of you. And what’s more, it makes the pizzas very easy to replicate – or at least attempt to replicate.

My attempts at the two specials shown above. Fresh habaneros instead of oil. A little too much creme fraiche, and the crust didn't match up, but otherwise I think we did okay.

My obvious love for these pizzas does not for a second detract from the love I have for the simple, the traditional, the classic NYC pizza. But would it be the worst thing to have a little ingenuity, a little daring, a little fun with pizza here in NYC? We know it’s possible. And I’m writing this to tell you it works.

Just give it a shot, New York. Loosen up, buy a few raspberries and give it a shot. You’ll have a line out the door in no time. And I’ll be in it.

Cordially and with the greatest respect,

Alden

REVIEW: Saltie, Williamsburg

The Clean Slate sandwich.

I stopped into the new sandwich shop, Saltie, a couple days ago, and had a grand old time.

Saltie is the latest venture from former Marlowe & Sons and Diner chef Caroline Fidanze, and the menu is an eclectic but sparse mix of sandwiches, pastries and ice cream. It replaces the sadly forgettable Cheeks bakery, which I always had high hopes for every time I entered, but always left shrugging. Saltie is a definite step up, both in quality of food and level of ambition. Their sandwiches have a nice maritime theme going, and the two sandwiches I tried – The Captain’s Daughter (sardines, pickled egg, salsa verde) and the Clean Slate (quinoa, hummus, pickled veggies) live up to their seafaring names – The Captain’s daughter is as briny and fishy as you’d expect, but also refreshing and surprisingly light – none of the oiliness or heaviness you might expect. The Clean Slate, as you can see above, is less a sandwich and more like an open-faced, deconstructed falafel – and while it’s not as nautical as The Captain’s Daughter, the pickled veggies add some snap.

I’m not really qualified to review the house-made ice cream, as I’ve only tried the caramel on top of a delicious apple tart, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s all phenomenal. A full plate of amazing-looking dried fruit pastries were gone between the time I ordered my sandwich and my return to the counter to get one, so those will have to wait until my second visit as well. And maybe the third and fourth.

The decor and seating are friendly but obvious hints that you should probably get your food to go – high, tiny stools and a small bar running along two walls. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine place to sit and eat, and the staff is friendly, but no tables or anything. That’s not nearly enough to keep me from going there again and again, however.

All in all, a great place. I have no doubt the menu will change often and with delicious results. I can’t wait to go back.

Hunger Strike

Not really. It’s been a very long time since I’ve posted here, but there wasn’t much to lose – I’d really barely started. But you know something? I liked it. And I want to do it for real this time.  Don’t worry, I was eating the whole time I was gone.

I’m going to try to reboot this blog in the next few weeks, so for the one of you reading this (hi, Mom), dust off the old RSS feed and get ready. More eating coming soon.

However, I won’t let you go before giving you a little something to make the wait more bearable (as I know, Mom, you’re dying to read my next review of an NYC restaurant you’ll never go to since you live in Alaska). It’s a food blog (not by me) that threatens to put all food blogs out of business with its sheer genius, F*CK YEAH CILANTRO. It cracks me up. Plus, I have to agree with that guy. I could probably eat a salad made entirely of cilantro.

See you soon!

REVIEW: Second Stop Cafe – Williamsburg

Image Courtesy chow.com

We stopped into Second Stop Cafe this morning for the first time for a cup of coffee and a bite and had a quick conversation with one of the owners. We were really impressed.

The space is on the site of the owner’s grandfather’s 1920s grocery store – it’s been completely renovated, but it’s retained a sort of anachronistic old-timey vibe which actually works well and doesn’t seem too forced, even in a neighborhood full of places straining to feel quirkily antique (we won’t name any names). Actual antiques – including a few from the building itself – help a lot. The thin-slat wood floors are from the ’20s – one of the owners pointed out to me the worn indentation in the floor where the shopkeeper stood behind the counter for decades –  but the tin ceiling, beams, and new (vintage?) counter are all the product of the last six months of renovation.

It goes without saying that Stumptown coffee is fantastic, but it’s worth mentioning that here it was well-prepared, hot and strong – look at the length of this review, for Pete’s sake. Alden had a cup of each of the two varieties of drip they had today – an Ethiopian Wondo (outstanding – big and rich) and their Nicaragua Finca La Amistad (also great, but not my type of roast – citrusy, bright). Genevieve had the cappuccino, which was similarly delicious.

Their selection of pastries and eats were also really impressive. Bagels from Bagelsmith – can’t go wrong there – and a huge number of vegan and non-vegan, house-made (!!) pastries, brownies and cookies.

On that note – there are a lot of places in this neighborhood (you know who you are) who advertise vegan selections on the menu, but they’re Vegan Treats cookies and stuff from that place in Pennsylvania. Which is fine, but as non-vegans we’ll admit they don’t get us all that excited anymore. Not the case here. All their pastries and cookies are made by their in house chef – who apparently is trained in French technique and has spent a lot of time in the last few months getting amazing flavors out of her vegan desserts and pastries. And based on what we tried – a pecan brownie and a vegan carrot-ginger cake – they are fresh, delicious and awesome. We didn’t try the peanut butter cookies or the donut muffin (!), but they’re certainly on our list for next time (tomorrow?). Vegan selections included some muffins, lemon pound cake and a delicious looking juice-sweetened tofu cheesecake with some sort of fruit topping. The owner mentioned that he’s had a hard time selling the vegan stuff so far, and we told him not to give up: once the word gets out that there are delicious, homemade vegan goodies there – that are really delicious regardless of their veganity (not really a word, I know) – we think he’s going to sell the crap out of that stuff.

Service was helpful, enthusiastic and appropriately chatty. Lots of seating space, free wi-fi, plenty of outlets, small and huge bags of beans and good music. The owner mentioned planning to put a turntable in the room so that people could play their selections from a stack of the cafe’s records, which we have to admit is an exciting prospect. Strangely we had just been talking about how awesome and natural it would be, although we’ve never seen it, to have a jukebox in a coffee shop. I think a turntable is even cooler, if they can rely on people being nice to it.

We’re excited for this place, and thankful we happen to live right around the corner. We’ll be in here a lot.

Confidential to vegans: Don’t lose hope for good vegan stuff in this hood! The vegan treats here are delicious and stopping in to buy something here will help ensure that they continue making and serving it. It would be a shame if they stopped making such a great selection of stuff because they don’t think the demand exists.

The We Like To Eat Awards 2008

Yeah, I know, it’s a little ridiculous to have an award roundup on a brand-spanking new blog, but that’s how I roll. Besides, just because I hadn’t started this blog yet doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention. So here goes.

I have awards for Best Appetizer, Best Main Course, Best Dessert, Best Drink, and Best None of the Above. Since it’s nearly impossible to pick just one thing, I had to give two awards for Best Appetizer (what’s wrong with a four-course meal?) and I have Honorable Mentions as well. So, without further ado:

Best Appetizer:

House Smoked Bacon – Strip House

(Photo courtesy of Stella Y. at Yelp)

Even considering that 4 thick slabs of pork belly isn’t so much an appetizer as it is a tiny, greasy, wonderful almost-meal – considering that it hardly gets you in the mood to then consume a rib-eye steak for two – Strip House’s bacon appetizer is amazing enough for us to ignore the fact that, let’s be honest, it’s sort of a misnomer. Perfectly and delicately smoked, greasy but not fatty, as tender as that song in Dumbo “Baby Mine.” And a little Bibb lettuce there next to it to make you realize, “if there was a little sliced heirloom tomato here, it might ruin the BLT forever.”

Now, before you get up in arms. I understand that giving bacon any kind of award is sort of like letting the teacher win the spelling bee. Bacon is nearly impossible to make not delicious. But you have to trust me – we’re not throwing this award at an easy target. This is good bacon. Better, dare I say, than the soft-as-pudding pork belly at Fette Sau. Better than the sugar-cured breakfast euphoria at Clinton Street Baking Company. Just – I know bacon, okay? Trust us. It’s really good. Even for bacon.

If I had to give an award to the dish that best prepared me for the entree I were about to eat, this dish would be in trouble. Fortunately, just this once, I’m applying the more American, chronological definition here, which I normally can’t stand. But bacon, how can I stay mad for long?

Best Appetizer:

Lentejas Trufadas – Boqueria

Truffles, perhaps even more than bacon, deserve another award like Lance Armstrong deserves to win the Tour de France again. But Boqueria’s truffled lentil dish is so complex, so flavorful and so comforting that truffles are really given equal weight to the serrano ham, poached egg, and perfectly spiced Puy Lentils. And as heavy as it sounds, it’s a suprisingly light dish and an effective appetizer. The textures are as complex as the flavors – crispy ham, creamy, runny egg yolk, delicately firm lentils – it’s pretty amazing. Everything I’ve tried at Boqueria is impressive, but this dish sits at the top.

Honorable Mention: Louisiana Crawfish Boil at Mara’s Homemade

Best Main Course:

Cochinita Pibil Taco – La Superior

There are no adequate words for how I feel about this taco. La Superior is my new favorite Mexican restaurant in Brooklyn, and this taco is reason #1. Intensely flavorful, deep, and rich, with a little pickled onion on the top to brighten it up – the sauce that the slow-roasted pork is swimming in is almost curry-ish in flavor – I’m guessing it’s coriander that makes me think that – and it’s about as much amazing flavor as you can pack into a taco about three inches across – which is to say, as much as I love this thing, one is enough. Don’t get me wrong, I could probably eat at least 14 of these. But the fact that it packs the punch it does allows me to order a bunch of other stuff without feeling like I’m missing out.

$2.50 for one of the most delicious things I’ve put in my mouth in the entirety of 2008. Well played, La Superior. Well played.

Honorable Mention: Parmigiano, Lemon and Parsely Risotto, served every Tuesday at Supper

Best Dessert:

The Bob – Sugar Sweet Sunshine

(Photo courtesy of Who Ate the Big Apple?)

Cupcakes, especially in NYC, are really overrated. With Magnolia‘s surge in popularity since its appearance on Sex and the City, a ton of other places have followed suit, and to be honest, we just don’t get it. Cupcakes are difficult to transport, difficult to eat in one bite or with the proper proportions of cake to frosting, and in Magnolia’s case, the buttercream is so sweet and so plentiful that it really doesn’t allow the cake to come through at all. (We do love Magnolia, however – but more for their other desserts – namely their icebox cakes) In short, we’d almost always prefer a slice of cake to a cupcake. Sugar Sweet Sunshine is the exception. They use a reasonable amount of well-flavored buttercream, perched lovingly atop a moist, rich, two-bite piece of cake. The Bob (chocolate-almond buttercream/yellow cake) wins this award, but their other flavors are nearly as delicious and well-balanced. If you’ve been unimpressed by other cupcakes, give this one a shot. You’ll thank me for it.

Honorable Mention: Apple Crisp – Hundred Acres

Best Drink:

Fig Sidecar – Walter Foods

Now, it’s no secret that I love Sidecars. But even if I didn’t, this cocktail would probably still win my vote. Figs aren’t normally a fruit that we’d think would be able to stand up to aged rum and fresh lemon, but there it is, keeping things mellow and mature – the rum is all “I’m not supposed to be in a sidecar, but here I am! I’m going to make this whole drink taste like rum, which isn’t the point at all.” Then fig comes along and he’s all, “Slow down fella. Take ‘er easy. You and me and lemon over there, we’re going to do the sidecar proud by sticking to the old-timey. And I’m going to take you there.” Then rum gets in the sidecar, which you don’t see coming because you’d think he would drive because he’s a young hotshot, but fig gets on the motorbike and lemon sits behind and fig drives real slow and makes arm signals to turn, and fig is wearing these cool leather riding goggles and lemon wraps her arms around fig and smells fig’s hair and rum is a little jealous but he’s just happy to be along for the ride and they take route 66 at sunset and they just laugh and sing and ride and ride.

Anyway, it’s a great drink.

Honorable Mention: Shaggy – Great Jones Cafe

Best None of the Above

Coconut Cream Doughnut – Doughnut Plant

(Photo courtesy of teague03 at flickr)

I love Doughnut Plant. But this doughnut I wasn’t so sure about. I bought one of these a few weeks ago for Genevieve as an obligatory gesture – She had had one before and she loved it, but for some reason couldn’t convince me. Now, I love coconut, but to be honest the name made me think coconut cream pie, and while I like that pie pretty well, I wasn’t really in the mood for it. Ladies and gentlemen, I was a fool. A blind fool! This is no coconut cream pie doughnut. If it were, it would be called that. No. This is a coconut cream doughnut. The filling of this doughnut isn’t the saccharine, pudding-y, delicious-but-not-this-morning pie filling I had so foolishly expected, but subtle, velvety, wonderful coconut cream. You know, the stuff you make curry with. It’s amazing. And if that weren’t enough, it’s lovingly surrounded on all sides by the phenomenally soft, pillowy, yeasty goodness of a Doughnut Plant doughnut. I want one right now. You were right, Genevieve. Tell… your sister… you were right!*

*That’s from Star Wars.

Honorable Mention: Iced Americano at El Beit (the only iced coffee drink I have ever loved – nay, lusted after)

We like to eat.

Welcome to We like to eat!

We started this blog because, well, we really do like to eat. We aren’t chefs, food critics or gourmands. We haven’t been to Paris or Tokyo. But we live in New York City, one of the greatest food towns in the world, and we’d love to tell you all about it.

This blog will be a place for reviews when we can afford to go out, and recipes when we can’t. If we can get away with taking video or photos, we’ll show you those; otherwise, we’ll describe our experience as best we can. We’ll tag everything, too, by neighborhood, cuisine, and other tasty descriptors, so in a few months you’ll be able to find something that is in your area and approved by us.

We’ll warn you ahead of time, though – you won’t see a lot of negative reviews on this blog. This is not to say we aren’t discerning – we eat a lot of food we’re not ecstatic about – but what excites us about starting this blog isn’t bothering you with negative reviews of mediocre restaurants. We want this to be a place to come and read about good food and good dining experiences. So if a restaurant or recipe is in here, we promise we had a great time and it’s worth a shot.

So check us out, try a restaurant or recipe, and let us know what you think.

Enjoy!