Red roses. Heart-shaped everything. Sappy love songs. Crowded restaurants. Tis the season for love—but what about those who don't believe in romantic religion? Sure, like Christmas and Hanukkah the holiday festivity can be charming and bring you joy—like you really mind receiving loving gestures. But still, for many, the Hallmark powered holiday feels more like a super-sappy, saccharine-laden blitzkrieg than bona fide passionate fun.
I've been coupled up for many Valentine's holidays over the years, and while many romantic evenings have been special and satisfying, sometimes I have the most fun away from my sweetheart. If you find yourself running from cupid's bow year after year, don't flee in shame. Embrace your anti-conventionalism and celebrate it. Single? Newly broken up? Or just plain broke? All the better reason to ditch the lovey-dovey expectations. Instead, gather up friends for a simple, no frills dinner party.
I started this tradition many Valentine's Days ago, when several friends found themselves single or without enticing plans. We'd make interesting cocktails and cook a simple-but-fabulous meal like Cheese Fondue. You can use a traditional Gruyère and Emmenthaler Swiss cheese fondue recipe or spice it up with Cheddar, Chili Peppers and Beer. Simple and delicious, fondue is perfect for a party because you can easily share. Plus, the required dipping action makes for a fun, social game! After you've poured a nice wine such as Paumanok Vineyards (try the 2007 Dry Riesling or the 2005 Festival Red), toast and then explain the "fondue" rules. Basically, everyone has a fondue fork for dipping bread and vegetables in the cheese, and regular utensils for eating. If anyone drops their bread or crudite in the pot, or is caught eating off their dipping fork, they must share a funny or embarrassing story with the group. Believe me, once your fondue dipping fork is laden with yummy melted cheese, you can easily drop your bread. After a couple glasses of wine, you definitely will.
Love may sometimes suck, but that doesn't mean that your Valentine's Day has to. In the spirit of having "heart day" your way, I propose a toast for great food, friends and of course ample wine. Cheers!
New York City's Restaurant Week is an underfunded foodie's dream. I say this from experience. Ordinarily, my only opportunity to get past the foyer at Le Cirque would be on my way to work at the coat check. But during Restaurant Week, the food world becomes a plebian's oyster. Prix fixe menus at some of the city's best restaurants cost only thirty five dollars and lunch goes for a pittance at twenty seven.
So, when I received a reminder email from opentable.com a few weeks ago, I stayed on my computer feverishly attempting to make a reservation at every single restaurant on the list. Maybe the fantasies of foie gras and tuna tartare compromised my alertness. Maybe dreams of AvroKO dining rooms slowed my reflex time. Whatever the explanation, about twenty seconds after I received the email, there was hardly a single dinner reservation left. I suspect there are a lot of broke foodies in New York.
Ah, but there were a few lunch reservations still floating around cyber space. At first, I was disappointed that I missed my chance to set the bar for gluttony a little higher. But, I could not have known then that the two lunches we did confirm would so dramatically change my life.
My foray into restaurant week began at Bar Boulud last Sunday. There, surrounded by older European couples with immaculate little scarves and perfectly coifed hair, my girlfriends and I became ladies who lunch. It wasn't entirely comfortable. Transforming into a lunching lady doesn't happen overnight. At first, we were just regular people eating lunch. The distinctions were subtle, but the longer we sat (a defining characteristic of a lady who lunches), the more obvious they became. As normal people, we ordered the things that appealed to us on the menu. We gabbed. We drank complimentary tap water.
Then, our waiter brought us the wine list. Let me interrupt the story here to point out an important distinction. Regular people drink diet coke for lunch. Ice tea is acceptable. But, you may not use the word lunch as a verb unless there is wine on the table. I had a very nice glass of Russian River Valley Chardonnay that was mercifully light on the oak. Another friend ordered a crisp glass of Pinot Blanc. After the first sip, I found myself sitting a little more erect and speaking in a vaguely English accent.
Not to ring my own bell, but we relaxed into our surroundings at an impressive pace. We came to the restaurant American women from generally modest backgrounds, slightly intimidated by the overwhelming French-ness of the waiters. By the time the first course arrived, we were cooing over the delicate charcuterie and silken squash soup as if we had grown up summering at villas in Corsica. Our first lunching experience lasted a record four hours and I left the restaurant with the uncontrollable urge to buy a quilted Chanel purse. Yet, it was the next lunch that really solidified my desire to become a full time lady-who-lunches.
Park Avenue Winter is a foodie Mecca. The menu rotates every few months to reflect the seasons and, in its incarnation as winter, Chef Craig Koketsu prepares hearty, cold-weather standards like roast chicken with a piquant preserved lemon-mustard sauce. He also offers zany comfort dishes like broccoli and Cheetos. But, the restaurant's gimmick (forgive the word choice but it's the most accurate one I could come up with. For the record, it is a very good gimmick) doesn't stop there. Design scene darlings AvroKO revamp the space according to the season.
On the afternoon that we showed up to continue our lunching career (an oxymoron as ladies who lunch do not, by definition, pursue careers), the dining room displayed aspects of both a sylvan winter wonderland and a Gstaad ski lodge. While this may not sound like an intuitive combo, it was beautiful. The chairs were decked out in fur and the chandeliers dangled from the ceiling like the branches of birch trees.
One of my companions, a seasoned lunching lady at this point, sat at the bar, ordered a Dark and Stormy and proceeded to recklessly flirt with the bartender until our table was ready (aforementioned Dark and Stormy was on the house). This time, wine was no longer in question and we ordered it immediately. Our salmon tartares and porcini ravioli inspired thoughtful musings over various flavor combinations. Afterward, we lingered over desserts that made me wonder if Willy Wonka was their pastry chef. In fact, we lingered until all the other diners cleared out and the staff was getting anxious to close.
Contrary to my expectations, they remained extraordinarily gracious. I'd like to believe we exuded an air of Park Avenue princess that made them act accordingly. We paid our bill only when an unsettling glint sparkled in the custodian's eyes. He was either going to mop the floors and shut down the lights or impale one of us with a swizzle stick.
Our waiter, a consummate professional to the end, returned our credit cards and expressed his hope that we had enjoyed our meal. At this point, I felt like a caterpillar fully emerged from her cocoon. I was a lady who lunched. I smugly wondered why I hadn't realized this part of my identity earlier. My enthusiasm for the idea made me gesticulate a little too energetically and I didn't see our waiter coming up behind me. Just as he approached, I accidentally delivered a mean left hook to his right eye that almost knocked him over. He staggered back,shocked that I had just clocked him in the face. Even under these circumstances, he maintained his poise. But, I knew he saw through the facade. My experiment in lunching was officially over.
I think that I'm in a recovery phase right now. I'm also worried that lunch will never be the same. Can you really enjoy homemade tuna salad when you've tasted Daniel Boulud's beef cheek terrine? Can you sip a bottle of diet Snapple when you've drunk Pinot Gris before 3pm? How does one possibly fit lunch into a twenty-minute window when five hours feels so much more natural? These are all concerns that may take years to resolve. Until then, I'm waiting for Restaurant Week 2010.
Cecilia Estreich
Park Avenue Winter
100 East 63rd Street
(at Park Avenue)
New York, NY 10021
212.644.1900
The only thing more exciting than tasting food from an acclaimed chef is watching him teach you how to cook it. I reveled in the opportunity to a take a class at South Gate Restaurant led by executive chef and avid fisherman, Kerry Heffernan. After seeing Kerry's skill and precision while filming a porcelet segment with him for Behind the Burner last September, the thought of being instructed by him was exhilarating. Always the teacher's pet, I told him ahead of time I would be seated front and center. He warned me he would be calling on me during class. Hence, I made sure to sit safely in the last row to avoid any public humiliation in case my knowledge of selecting, storing and preparing fresh fish wasn't up to par.
Chef Heffernan's class was orchestrated superbly in its special location--South Gate Restaurant, which features a fresh, sleek, spacious interior complete with a fire place, open central bar area and grand views of Central Park. There were five long tables with every seat occupied by the 40 students in the class. The visuals were displayed in an orderly fashion with two large t.v. monitors providing close-ups of Kerry cutting, scaling and sautéing. We all tasted the beautiful recipes he prepared—Tuna Cru, Flash-Seared Squid with Cauliflower Custard and Lobster Sauce, and Sauteed Black Sea Bass with Green Celery Fondue and White Anchovies.
When the two hour class ended, I tucked away my fresh pastry gift compliments of South Gate and placed business cards from my new friends in my wallet before practically skipping out of the restaurant with a huge grin on my face and the taste of Chef Kerry's creations still on my palate. Now that I know everything about selecting, storing and preparing fresh fish, I'm ready to make a seafood feast that would make Chef Heffernan proud, enabling me to maintain my coveted status as teacher's pet!
South Gate restaurant is located on 154 Central Park South
New York, NY 10019 between 6th and 7th Avenues. For reservations, call (212) 484-5120.
The last time I went on a Valentine's Day date, I was a sophomore in college. We shared a box of Franzia rose` in my dorm then went to a notoriously bad but appropriately named Italian restaurant, Valentino's. Over a plate of mozzarella sticks, he presented me with a box of Spongebob Squarepants-themed chocolates and a poem scribbled on a scrap of memo paper. The poem combined disturbing elements of Dr. Seuss and a Harlequin Romance Novel. The waiter spilled a carafe of ice water down my dress. And, finally, when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the combination of Franzia and red sauce caused some kind of combustive reaction in my digestive tract that left me with the worst heartburn I have ever experienced.
Needless to say, the evening left much to be desired. In fact, I feel like I can only move up. This February, I would happily eat three courses at the neighborhood Mexican place (can you call it a tasting menu if it starts with complimentary salsa and ends with a mango margarita?). Luckily, though, New York boasts so many cozy, romantic eateries that I might not have to settle for a mariachi band and heart-shaped flan.
Bobo is at the top of my list. Nestled in a West Village brownstone, everything about this restaurant charms and delights. From the candle-lit bar room downstairs to the glowing, glass-bead chandeliers and Parisian flea-market décor in the dining room, the atmosphere is warm and bohemian (and, most importantly, a far, far cry from the red-checkered tablecloths at Valentino's). The offerings on the menu evoke a similar sensuality. A simple roast beet salad with feta and ginger pistachios followed by Muscovy duck with date puree make a meal that is hearty and comforting without being overly decadent. I would be equally satisfied if my (hypothetical) Valentine scored us a spot at The Waverly Inn. Because it is such an epic feat of endurance to get a table, the reservation alone would say "I love you".
While I'm a novice, I realize that some people have established traditions with their significant others. For them, the answer is a night out at one of New York's big ticket restaurants. Perhaps the most classically romantic of these old stalwarts is Tavern on the Green. With its spectacular glass-walled Crystal Room and a refined menu constructed by Chef Brian Young, the historic New York City restaurant is the perfect place to share a plate of oysters and sip champagne with your (non-hypothetical) Valentine.
This February 14th, the restaurant will offer two menus-one that includes a bottle of champagne and a table in the Crystal Room and another with a glass of champagne and seating in the regular dining room. Your choice, I suppose, depends on how much you want to spend or how drunk you expect to get-both important considerations on Valentine's Day. Yet, the magic doesn't stop there. They will also play cupid-booking musicians, hiding jewelry in frisee salads and spelling out sweet nothings in chocolate fondant. Just make sure you alert the staff (and confirm that your date isn't the type that will be horrified and humiliated by a private serenade from a string quartet).
At this point, there are issues to address. First, I know that it may ruin the fantasy, but let's talk about the economy. Don't get me wrong. I fervently believe that truffles, champagne and caviar are the essence of Valentines Day. That whole "love" thing? Talk to me after dessert. But, this year, it looks increasingly unlikely that a knight in grey flannel will ride in on his hedge fund, ready to take you out for a five-hundred dollar tasting menu somewhere in the Time Warner Center. This year, maybe an intimate dinner at home is the fiscally responsible thing to do.
If done properly, a meal at home easily rivals a night out. That said, the potential for disaster exists. Here, I want to provide a few tips to minimize the risks. First, I cannot stress enough the importance of not stressing. Anxiety sows the seeds of burnt standing rib roasts, overcooked vegetables, and exploding soufflés. It also kills the mood.
The best possible way to stay calm is to plan ahead. So, choose your recipes carefully and grocery shop accordingly. For inspiration, Behind the Burner's recipe section is full of sumptuous dishes from some of the country's best chefs. If I find myself at home this year, I'm starting with a spread of oysters and a cheese plate with truffle honey followed by Rabbit tenderloin with sage gnocchi and mustard cream. If we can consider ingesting another crumb after all of that, I'll serve Francois Payard's Charlie's Chocolate Pudding Cake for dessert. You can even use the website's deal section to save on Valentine's Day necessities like truffles, caviar, and chocolate. The second best way to stay calm is to drink. Buy a bottle of wine and relax (a caveat to this suggestion: don't drink too much or the potential for disaster rises again exponentially).
Whatever plans emerge on the 14th, whether I'm dancing to the hum of a jazz band at Tavern on the Green or snuggled at table in the low lighting of the Waverly Inn, I'll be content. Even if I do end up eating a burrito around the corner from my apartment, I'm at peace with it. New York's vast array of Valentine's Day activities provides a little something for everyone. And, if nothing else, it's got to better than the red sauce at Valentino's.
Walking through the brick building-strewn, wind tunnel of Tribeca it seemed eerily quiet, perhaps from the financial turmoil racking Wall Street. I was on my way to meet a friend at Tribeca's week old Mediterranean inspired brasserie, Trigo, for its inaugural lunch. Not being an avid coffee or tea drinker, I ordered a cup of hot water to thaw myself and soaked in the atmosphere of this Mediterranean hideaway.
Trigo's interior is the first aspect to marvel at. The restaurant is huge with a 200-guest capacity. Apart from its sheer size, the décor is a well thought out mixture of stone, steel, brass and mirrors, which accesses the historical, industrial nature of Tribeca. The handmade steel bar is a lustrous resting place for patrons to enjoy a taste of over 30 boutique Mediterranean wines by the glass. The center of the dining room (and the cozy feeling Trigo offers) is the stone hearth used to make Trigo's savory flatbread concoctions. Floor to ceiling windows allow light to cover the space resulting in an airy, warm ambiance.
I had the pleasure of meeting Trigo's Exectuive Chef, Michael Garrett. A former chef at Aquavit, Morrell's, and Merkato 55, Garrett has extensive experience with using diverse ingredients in his dishes. If his culinary creations were as warm as his demeanor, I was in for a treat. One thing missing was the execution of the written menu. Ordering the Porcini and Hamon, I was expecting whole porcinis, but sat perplexed as they were in the form of a paste. However, the flatbread was still delicious. Further description on the menu will insure that one knows what exactly what is going to be delivered at the table, as well as save the very attentive and knowledgeable wait staff from answering rudimentary menu questions.
From the Farmstand, as Trigo calls their starters, I decided on house-made mozzarella and I wasn't disappointed! This past weekend I made fresh mozzarella with Todd English at Winefest, so my expectations were high...and met. Trigo's mozzarella was soft, buttery and beautiful, a well-rounded winner in the art of making cheese. The White Bean Smoked Hocks soup was just what my soul and temperature gauge needed after making the trek through Tribeca from Franklin to West Broadway. The ham flavored the soup gently to give it the perfect burst of hearty flavor. Unfortunately, the Baby Dandelion Salad was a let down. Looking forward to some juicy California mission figs, I was disappointed when the salad was topped with dried figs. When eating at a class dining establishment I expect farm-fresh quality produce- not dried figs- a regular snack at my desk at work. While they're still wonderful for your digestion, fresh figs would bump the appearance of a dish up to a 10. Sea scallops with preserved lemon was my last course, but best choice. Seared to perfection, the scallops were marked with an appetizing grilled glaze and a taste that matched the golden color.
Although my intention was a light lunch after a big weekend at Winefest, the fare was too great to pass up. Twist my arm. I'll have some dessert. Revital Melech, Trigo's pastry chef, is an Israel native who grew up on a kibbutz (a community based on agriculture). Her exposure to such fresh food has colored her art in pastry as well. While I was looking forward to the warm chestnut pudding, unfortunately Trigo's sources were tapped, no doubt on account of the wind gusting, wintry weather. Instead I indulged in the Bamboloni, chocolate donuts with vanilla mascarpone and chocolate crunch, which were a wonderful end to a warming meal.
Overall, Trigo is an inviting space with some dishes that are total winners! It's easy to picture the suits from Citigroup packing this place for a flatbread and glass of wine. Trigo has transformed this old warehouse into a booming brasserie with room to grow, despite its already large size and big food. Inevitably, I returned to the wind tunnel outside, but the warmth of being comfortably full stayed with me for the rest of the day.
Divya Gugnani
Trigo
268 West Broadway
New York, NY 10012
212.925.1600
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