Go buy yourself some absinthe.

I’m not sure how I missed this, but in perusing info on Tales of the Cocktail in New Orleans from July 18th through 22nd, I found out about Lucid, the American version of absinthe that’s for sale– legally– in the U.S.  It doesn’t sound as bunk as you might think when you hear “American” and “absinthe” in the same sentence.  Here’s the story from the business section of the New York Times, regarding Viridian Spirits’ Jared Gurfein’s quest to make a US version:

A New Orleans native, Mr. Breaux now produces absinthes in Saumur, France, using the same recipes and ingredients — including the plant Artemisia absinthium, or grand wormwood — employed by his 19th-century predecessors.

Mr. Gurfein asked Mr. Breaux whether he could produce an absinthe that would pass regulatory muster with American authorities — meaning that it would not contain thujone. Mr. Breaux said that would be fairly easy, given his belief that, contrary to popular opinion, 19th century absinthes contained relatively little thujone to begin with — less than 5 parts per million, according to his tests, rather than much higher estimates that have been bandied about.

Still, Mr. Breaux knew that removing thujone entirely might harm the taste. “I had to get a handle on the whole thujone issue without compromising the character and the flavor of the drink,” he said. To accomplish this, Mr. Breaux blended the grand wormwood with green anise and sweet fennel from Europe, instead of using more-affordable imports from East Asia. Using herbs from Europe, absinthe’s native continent, he said, gives the drink an earthier essence.

Mr. Breaux also had to keep the American palate in mind while developing Lucid. “In the U.S., anise is a sort of a strange flavor,” he said. “We don’t get a lot of exposure to it.” So Mr. Breaux made sure that Lucid had a slightly cleaner, crisper taste than its European peers.

Is it available yet in D.C.?  I called Schneiders and Calvert Woodley, who suggested that a) it’s not in D.C. yet and b) to go ahead and call up New York stores to get some, many of which will ship out of state.

Some options?  Beekman Liquors, LeNell’s , and Morrell Wine. If you find yourself up there, you can try it in a drink at Employees Only and Death & Co. 

When it arrives in town, please let us know where in the comments.

Vanity Fair’s Letters from Tokyo: If You Knew Sushi

I’d been wanting to read the June Letters from Tokyo piece after a friend called gushing about it.  It’s not yet posted on Vanity Fair’s website, so you’ll need to buy a hard copy if you want to read the whole thing.  It’s a labyrinth of antecdotes from the Tsukiji fish market, the history of sushi in America, the allure of blowfish, and the mystique behind some of the best sushi restaurants in New York and Tokyo.  Globe trotter Nick Tosches is an incredible researcher. Some highlights:

• Bluefin tuna was considered cat food until a California cannery ran out of sardines and began canning it in 1903.
• The largest tuna sales come from Tokyo’s Tsukiji market, which sells over 2000 tons–”roughly two million kilograms” of seafood a day.  The old Fulton Street Fish Market in New York sold 115 tons a year.

Lighten up!

For anyone following Chodorow’s absurd $40,000 rebuttal of a zero star Bruni review–  here’s a funny observation from today’s New Yorker, courtesy of Eater’s listage:

David Chang, the chef of Momofuku Ssäm Bar, happened to be under consideration on the day of the review-ad face-off. Over the phone, Chang said, “I felt like I was reading The Onion. If Chodorow was trying to be funny, it might have been one of the funniest letters ever written. But I’m sure he’s dead serious, which made it not so funny.” He went on, “There are so many ‘I’s in that letter—me, me, me.” Chang was thrilled that Ssäm Bar had garnered two stars, but admitted, “If Frank Bruni had poorly reviewed one of my restaurants, I might have pulled a Tonya Harding and broken his kneecaps. I’d have thought, Dude, I’ve gotta do something. But I’d never really do it.”

Speaking of cranky, the item Eater pulled from  “some restaurants just piss egulleteers off” thread continues to grow legs.

Thanks, NPR

A little poetry from this morning before we get back to food (though there are nearly ten food memories in this poem by Deborah Garrison.) 

 Goodbye New York (Song from the Wrong Side of the Hudson)

You were the big fat city we called hometown–

You were the lyrics I sang but never wrote down.

You were the lively graves by the highway in Queens;

The bodega where I bought black beans;

Stacks of the Times we never read–

Nights we never went to bed;

The radio jazz, the donut carts, the dogs off their leashes in Tompkins Square Park.

You were the tiny brass mailbox key–

The joy of “us” and the sorrow of “me.”

You were the balcony bar of Grand Central Station;

The blunt commuters and their destination;

The post-wedding blintzes at 4am;

And the pregnant waitresses we never saw again.

You were the pickles, you were the jar.

You were the prizefight we watched in a bar;

The sloppy kiss in the basement at Nell’s

The occasional truth the fortune cookie tells.

Sinatra’s still swinging at Radio City.

You were ugly and georgeous but never pretty.

Always the question, never the answer–

The difficult poet, the aging dancer

The call I made from the corner phone

To a friend in need, who wasn’t at home;

The fireworks we watched from a tenement roof

The brash allegations and the lack of any proof.

My skyline, my byline, my buzzer and door

Now you’re the dream we lived before.

Thinking of moving there?  Check out this Chowhound thread on the best restaurant neighborhoods.

“Cheese Made from Human Milk.”

I idolize Ray Sokolov’s writing, since he pioneered the food writing genre and founded the Arts and Leisure daily pages of the Wall Street Journal.  He’s also the first person I had read who insisted that food writing should not read like an Ikea instruction manual. Lucky for me, I eventually found plenty of interesting, stylish, hilarious, and engaging food writers.  Lucky for us,  we can almost take good food writers for granted, there are so many to choose from these days.  But few have skills that match Sokolov’s style and wit.

The first book I read of his was How to Cook, when I was living with Alexa, Abby’s sister, on the Upper West Side after I came back from teaching in Berlin.  Abby is good friend of mine from Mt. Holyoke who grew up and still lives in Washington.  Alexa, in particular, is a phenomenal cook.  It helps that its in her genes:  Ray Sokolov is their uncle.

Though there’s no end to the selections of writings that show Ray Sokolov’s formidable talent, this piece on today’s Village Voice blog reminds me of how funny he can be.  An interview from the ”Last Meal” column:

Would it be alright if I could get my main enemies lined up in front of me, and drowned in a hot tub? One per course?                                                                                                                                                                                       
You can do whatever you want. I want that power. I’m not going to name them. There are three of them and they know who they are. I would want to be eating things that would make them very unhappy. Of course, I would die right afterwards, but—   

                                                                        

Cupcake mania is on the wane.

As reported in the NY Post and on Eater, Allyssa Torey, the owner of Magnolia Bakery – of Sex and the City and Lazy Sunday fame–sold it for a fraction of what its worth.  She’s had enough of her cake and perhaps we have, too (see The Skinny).  For the future, she plans on writing cookbooks and playing with her dogs. 

photo from A full belly

The Diet, Take Two. The Skinny

Cookbook writer and freelancer Melissa Clark has just released a book called The Skinny: How to Fit into Your Little Black Dress Forever.  In a career focused on food, Clark observed that her most oft-asked question is, “How do you stay so thin?”  Here, she apparently shares her answers. 

Among them? “Eat what you want–If you don’t indulge a craving, you’ll eat a million other things to substitute what you really want.” 

She and co-author Robin Aronson also give a two-week “little black dress” plan, which includes requirements to bid ”farewell to lattes,” ”drink less wine, fewer cocktails, and no beer,” and “don’t eat the whole bagel.”  The only disheartening one is to “snack on tea” which doesn’t really fill me up, though I should change my attitude about it if I’m going to try and alter my eating habits.

I’m definitely going to peruse this book though I do wish that the premise wasn’t focused on women only, since her books and articles appeal to men and women alike.  Maybe I’ll think differently after I read it. 

Absinthe, Sazaracs, a Hay Ride, and Other Guilty Pleasures.

Even though I’m reluctant to admit it, I loved Toby Cecchini’s Cosmopolitan, since he’s from that bastion of quirkiness, the University of Wisconsin– home of The Onion and Bucky Badger.  More important, he started one of the more fun bars in what used to be a low-key neighborhood– the Passerby.  His book is about his early exploits there, including his “invention” of the Cosmopolitan, a dubious accolade to be sure, though it wasn’t in the early ’90s.  Still, it’s a fun bar read, particularly if you have a schedule like I’ve had, which limits evening bar time and trips back to New York. I guess I’m living vicariously through drink lit rather than actually drinking as of late.

Another bar book that I love is Ear Inn Virons, a little sliver of a compilation on the history of way west Spring Street, the James Brown House, and the bar that has graced 326 Spring Street since around 1817, known affectionately as The Ear.  Allegedly the oldest bar in Manhattan (Take that, McSorley’s!), the building had been in pretty bad shape before the Philip Johnson-designed condos broke ground, which is part of what made it so charming.  Though I haven’t been there in a couple of years, I have a soft spot for the place. 

A new book just arrived in my mail since I’d been gone for the break– The Art of the Bar: Cocktails Inspired by the Classics, written by the bartenders at Absinthe Brasserie and Bar.  Even though I’ve only had time for a quick perusal, I like several things about it– the first chapter’s nod to the spirit of Absinthe, for example, with sections on the Martini, the Sazerac, the Old Fashioned, the Bronx Bomber, bitters, etc.  I also liked that book’s authors showcase what makes bars both illicit and romantic: favorite bartenders, barstools reserved for regulars, and memories of old timey drinks, legal and otherwise. Perhaps its no coincidence that drinks from the Prohibition Era are becoming stylish again, with government paternalism nipping at our heels.

And, about that hay ride?  It’s listed as a cure for the hangover, among “hair of the dog,” “greasy eats,” “sleep,” and “hydration.” 

“This is a favorite cure that came up more often than we expected.  Taking a roll in the sack with your favorite partner is a great way to forget the pains of a hangover.  Maybe it’s the exercise, like going surfing or taking a therapeutic bike ride, but we think it’s something else entirely.”

Happy New Year and have a fun, safe weekend. 

Not Ray’s, but still Classics

From the TONY Pizza issue, the list of oldest/classic pizza parlors:

1) Arturos, Manhattan.  1957.  I’d always been underwhelmed by this pizza.  I’m convinced that everyone loves it because they get really drunk on cheap red wine while waiting for a table. That said, it’s better than alot of D.C. pies.  “This always-packed sit down spot on Houston has been pumping out pies charred in a coal-fired oven (one of the few remaining).”

2) Grimaldi’s Pizzeria, Brooklyn. 1990.  This place is great for the attitude and the view from between bridges.  The owner is a nephew of Patsy Lancieri (Patsy’s pizza–1933).  Another coal fired oven place, too.

3) John’s of Bleeker Street, Manhattan. ”Not worth the wait to get in: mediocre pies, goopy cheese.”

4) L & B Spumoni Gardens, Queens. 1939.  Aside from the fact that this is also a spumoni shop, TONY says little about the pies.

5) Lombardi’s, Manhattan.  1905.  I love the pies here.  “Started by Gennaro Lombardi. .. the pizzas can be delightfully balanced or oversauced and undercooked.”

6) Patsy’s, Manhattan.  1933.  “. . . the ultra-thin crust, charred by a coal burning oven, can be beautifully blistered, or just flat-out burnt.”

Other tidbits from the issue?  Best places to get a pie at 2am, weird pizza shops (pie by the inch, for example) best gourmet pies (yes, Otto is one of them), number of pizzerias in New York (495), and the average number of slices an American eats annually.  It’s allegedly 46, but I’m quite sure I eat that many slices per season. 

You’ve Tried the Rest, Now Try the Best

Time Out New York has the best food reading ever this week:  The Pizza Issue.  It’s so many pages that I spent a good half hour reading-slash-fantasizing about it.  As low brow as it is, pizza is my favorite food.

I’m inspired to do a pizza-posting weekend.  Which means commentary on the articles, pizza-making galore (to do list:round 3 of Franny’s clam pie recipe) and a run up to Comet for New Haven style pie on Sunday.

Tonight, the lowdown on TONY’s top ten in town. It’s a good cribsheet for the next visit, Washingtonians. Notice how few are from Manhattan. 

Time Out’s Ten Tastiest Pizzas:

10. Franny’s, Brooklyn. “It’s a feat of Gotham sized proportions that Franny’s, a two years young Brooklyn phenomenon, draws devoted pizza pilgrims from across the bridges and tunnels– and comparisons to DiFara and Tontonno’s.”

9. Lazzara’s Pizza Cafe, Manhattan.  “superthin crusts are rectangular and have crisp, raised edges, with ample char and some nuttiness.”

8. Joe and Pat’s, Staten Island.  “The thinnest and crunchiest pizza we tried, a slice at Joe & Pats doesn’t fold or sag.  It snaps.”

7. Nick’s, Queens.  The small plain cheese pie, a perfect circle, is slathered with a deliciously zesty tomato sauce and covered with fresh mozzarella and torn basil.”

6. Tontonno’s, Brooklyn.  . . . “consistently terrific char, a slightly fluffy, powdery bottom, and a bready airy rim.”

5. Joe’s, Manhattan.  “It’s a haven for thin crusted, crunchy slices, and it doesn’t load on too much cheese or serve reheated gunk. . . The oven produces savory flavors that only an oven that old can.”

4. Una Pizza Napoletana, Manhattan. “This purist uses only the best ingredients (dough made of stone ground wheat berries mixed with Sicilian sea salt, tomatoes from San Marzano, extra virgin olive oil from Southern Italy, and buffalo mozzarella from Naples) cooked in a wood burning oven.”

3. Sullivan Street Bakery, Manhattan.  “The pizza bianca looks like bread to the naked eye, but one bite reveals an amazing depth of flavor, redolent with salt, olive oil, and rosemary. ”

2. Denino’s Pizzeria, Staten Island. “The crust here has the most unusual bottom we’ve ever seen– and we mean that in a good way. Bread crumbs are added to the crust, rather than cornmeal.  A slice is just thin enough to be crunchy and just strong enough not to flop if you lift it with one hand.”

1. DiFara Pizza, Brooklyn.  “One bite reveals a harmony of textures and flavors atop a complex and nutty, charred, crisp crust. ”

From the reader’s poll, 10% like DiFara best, 20% Grimaldi’s, 26% John’s on Bleeker (ew), 20% Lombardi’s, 11% Patsy’s (to me, this is the closest thing to Paradiso), and 9% Tontonno’s.

Annndddd, the most important factor in great pizza?  49% agree it’s the crust; I’m in the crust camp, for the record. 

26% say its the sauce, 12% say its the person who makes it, 4% say it’s the oven, and 9% think it’s the cheese, which is the same percentage people who call themselves New Yorkers who are originally from Wisconsin.

DiFara’s Pizza, pictured above.