Come to Jicama moment...

Dear Food:

We need to talk... Where do I begin?

It’s been a long year. Neither of us has been happy. I know you’re going to say that I’VE CHANGED. But truly, I think you have, too.

This is not an attack. I am the first to admit my wrongs, my faults, my shortcomings. I admit that I haven’t made this easy for you. I’ve been impatient, and, well, rude. Even things that you do well, or we’ll say relatively well, I’ve criticized. I know I can be demanding and judgmental, and while I’m not picky, maybe I’m holding you to an unrealistic expectation. You should be allowed to have an off day, make mistakes, learn lessons, grow, change. I acknowledge that I’ve made it hard, that I’ve been walking around town saying, “I don’t even know who you are anymore” or “maybe I never knew you” and, ok, I get that it’s not easy maintaining confidence when your partner is constantly disparaging you.

But food – really. I’m dying here. I spent four months only eating Whole Foods salads. I’ve lost weight. I can't remember the last time I took your picture. And, well… I am hungry.

So what do we do? How do we remedy this? Your Katie’s Margherita Pizza that once captured my fancy seems dull and lifeless these days.

Don’t get me started on your Monarch hummus (shudder).

It can’t be just me. I have to believe you’ve let yourself go – your tomatoes aren’t as fresh, your mozzarella not as melty, your chickpeas, a little too canned?

Brasserie in all of your French former-Chez-Leon owned-by-Niche glory? The cauliflower gratin is. Just. Cheese. On. Cauliflower.

I ate it, yes, paired with a lovely Bordeaux, and I didn’t squabble with the fact that I couldn’t eat your chicken-stock risotto. But I need MORE.

Please hear me – I’m not trying to pin this all on you. But what do you want from me? I’m a grown, educated woman, and I’m relegated to midnight toaster-oven nachos and lumpy Trader Joes’s instant fair trade cocoa made with water! I need love! I need adventure! I need compassion!

I’ve tried being independent, I’ve given you your space. I've done the whole "fly solo" thing. Heck - I mastered a three-egg omelet with breakfast potatoes!

I’ve even got a specialty in my pear-leek-goat cheese pizza accompanied with an orange-and-toasted-pumpkin-seed salad!

But we all know that god invented – ahem – food for a reason. Girl’s got needs.

So here’s the deal, food. I know we love each other; now we just need to start treating each other better. I don’t know how, but I will promise to try.

Let's compromise: you cook up something new and exciting, I’ll try to muster up the old thrill of food-photographing and stop declaring to anyone who will listen, “I’m not even sure it’s worth eating anymore.”

Or if that’s too much, let’s try baby steps – you start by never bringing up eggplant again, and I’ll get back to work on learning to love olives.

Maybe, if we work really hard, we’ll meet in the middle. Preferably at a vegetarian restaurant, but I haven’t forgotten my earlier comment so yes, I will be happy even with a good veggie menu option.

Good chat. Thanks. I feel closer to you already.

Sincerely,

MegFood

New York: Fuck Yeah

I've been thinking about this for a while... why is everything better in NY?

People ask me why I love NY so much, and I usually respond, "the subway," but that can't be it. I mean, MegFOODBlog, right? And yes, the food is bountiful, noteworthy, and mood-specific. Massive. The thing is, though I think my heart is in the subway, the food is where my soul is, because in NY, you can get a meal to suit every occasion, every event, every mood. It's a little bit like - what do they call that? Pathetic Fallacy or something? That literary device where nature mimics human emotion. Yes, the food in NY does that.

If you're feeling contemplative, then you have to go to Teany. Teany is Moby's vegan tea house and restaurant in the East Village. It's a great place to get a healthy snack, drink a pot of tea either to relax or to get totally amped up, and just be left alone and ogle tattoos. It's intimate, but you don't need to feel like socializing there. So, life's got you a little down? Head to Teany and have a pot of jasmine tea and the amazing artichoke heart beet salad (add goat cheese)! You'll see, it's enlightening! The vegan creamy herb dressing is best!


If you're feeling social, on the other hand, then Moutarde in Park Slope in Brooklyn is where it's at. Equally intimate, this one somehow breeds conversation and interaction. Start with a bottle of red to accompany the crudites and mustard first course. Then, while you have the option of a meat or even veggie risotto entree, I recommending selecting from the sides menu, where you can maximize your flavor opportunities and encourage lots of cross-plate-tasting! It's the epitome of intimate socializing. I had the caramelized endive (oh my), the julienned veggies with roasted potato mash, the carrot/butternut squash puree, and then the most amazing shitake and asparagus risotto I'd ever had. I know it's just mushrooms and asparagus, but there was magic in there (and it wasn't chicken stock. I asked. For real!) If you're on the fence about something, then you're going to need a lot of room to make choices and not feel punished for those choices. The Farm on Adderly in Ditmas Park in Brooklyn will afford you that kind of freedom. Between three, we had 8 dishes, a bottle of wine, various other wines, a coffee course, one heck of a ton of leftovers, and not much of a dent in the pocketbook. The best part, though, was not only that we could bring home the remnants of our exploratory journey, but we could bring them home in compostable sugarcane containers! And if we didn't have ready access to a compost bin, then the Farm on Adderly would graciously take them back and compost them for us!

So what to eat is: the best fries in NY (voted!) with a curry mayo; fried artichoke hearts with house made sundrieds on a walnut puree; grilled asparagus with a poached egg on a spicy mustard sauce; chilled cream of summer pea soup with truffle oil; fried foccacia; baby butter lettuce with fried onions, peas, lemon thyme, and a housemade buttermilk dressing; finally, a pea fettuccine.

But say it's not a day of choices; you aren't looking to think or contemplate; you just want good. Take the train down to Tribeca and stop by Il Mattone. This place is perfect for subsisting. Tribeca is full of energy and posh, but you needn't exert yourself. This little corner bistro allows you to just be. To do so you need three things: a glass of zin, the butter-parmesan-champagne-vinaigrette artichoke hearts, and the couscous salad with grilled veggies--a little warm, a little charred, and very balsamicy. Whoa!

For those occasions where you are embracing life--just digging in and taking hold of it--you need to make your way to Chelsea and dine at the Cook Shop. The food here is phenomenal and abundant, so you don't need to ponder what looks best or what you're in the mood for. And if you ask for a glass of wine, they automatically bring you four glasses, four bottles, and start pouring. I heart impromtu wine tastings!!

The Cook Shop is great for moments when you're in it because they match odd ingredients in ways that shout, "fuck yeah!" So just pick a few dishes and go for it! I recommend the ginger vodka lemonade to accompany the bread and horseradish-creme fraishe spread course, then the purslane (a citrusy green), blueberry, and toasted hazelnut salad, the corn and purple Asian basil soup, the fried hominy grits (the size of nickels!), the morel mushroom ravioli in a pea sauce, oh and while you're at it, you may as well enjoy every dessert on the menu. No need to exert brain power choosing; just go for it! This is life, and life is beautiful!

But say it's a dark day; not depressed, just low lit. You're feeling earthy, romantic perhaps, or maybe just European. Then head underground to Pipa in the Gramercy neighborhood, have some sangria or some Chilean malbec, enjoy the music of the Latino underworld, and experience tapas. Wine infused mushrooms, spicy and covered with herbs; grilled asparagus in an avocado sauce; spicy sauteed spinach; and a flatbread pizza with corn, veggies, and bean puree. Dessert was good too, but mostly this place was good for the dark and steamy ____________ (fill-in-the-blank). (wink)

Got a good night's sleep? Went for a run or to the gym first thing? You need to rebuild your protein supply! Dizzys in Brooklyn will get you the best breaky for any given Sunday. You should probably find someone to split two meals with you, because you'll want the benefit of both the eggs Florentine and the power breakfast with yogurt, granola, and fruit. And then there are the complimentary muffins and scones to round out any meal.

And I would be remiss, of course, if I didn't talk about NY celebrations. These can be had in many ways, but for the kind where you have good news to share, and you want the entire city to know, then you head yourself to Rockefeller Center and you sit amongst the masses. You may even run into Elmo. Order yourself a good red zin and a cheese plate, and you'll find that your good spirits will be well served!

I could go on. Seriously.... I could. But should I?

Nah. I'll save the rest for the next blog: New York: They're Not Fucking Around!

West County Dining

My pal is visiting from New York and staying with family way way way out in the suburbs. Rather than drive another 30 minutes back into "civilization," where you can most certainly find a locally owned restaurant with lots of heart and good food, we decided not to burn gas unnecessarily and instead stayed in strip mall restaurant territory. Her in-laws recommended Annie Gunn's, which isn't bad, really; it's like a dressed-up Applebees with more upscale food. The only thing about it is it's a smokehouse; but whatever. I'm easy, right? Plus I know they'll cook me something vegetarian off the menu. So we go even further west (which I have to say was difficult... my car kept veering to the right as if to turn around back towards the city) and went to the land of 45 restaurants. (Seriously: Applebees, Olive Garden, IHOP, O'Charley's, Longhorn Steakhouse, the Original House of Pancakes, Mimi's, uh, there were more. I know it).

At Annie Gunn's I asked and they said they'd accommodate a vegetarian, but the gracious friend that she is refused to make me eat at a smoke house (I mean, there was a giant statue of a pig wielding a butcher knife at the front door). (Now that I think about it, the implications of that are so profound.) (And also I have to say that once I spied "sausage platter" on the menu, I was relieved to go.) So we left and headed towards the remaining 44 restaurants and picked one randomly, Mimi's. It had flags on the roof.

I ordered an egg-white omelet (it's Saturday) and fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice (not bad for a chain!) and that was pretty OK. Nothing thrilling (and not nearly as good as m'eggs).


My pal spied the chocolate chip pecan pie on the menu (she has a thing for chocolate-and-pecan-combos) and insisted we share dessert. I obliged.

Holy crap: this was an actual pie. AN ACTUAL PIE. Topped with caramel sauce, fudge sauce, ice cream, extra chocolate chips, just for good measure, it was terrifying. Priced at $4.99 on the menu, I would have assumed it was for one; but this thing could feed a family of 5, no problem. Was it good? Well, as good as a transfat diabetes fest can be, I suppose. I mean your brain recognizes "good! goood!" when you take a bite, but I wouldn't say your body actually enjoys it. It's like picking a scab.

Then we started thinking: how much fat is in this thing? I mean, I'm a health-conscious person, and I'm very careful with what I ingest, but I'm no calorie-counter. This pie, this crime against nutrition, it HAD to be 100 grams of fat, easy. We shuddered to think of the people that eat this thing alone.

My pal ingeniously asked the waitress for the nutritional breakdown; I didn't know that restaurants were required by law to have that info available. Apparently, they aren't, but anyway, the waitress informed us that it can be located on their website.

It's certainly not front-and-center on the site, but you can find it, if you poke around. Here's the horrifying truth:

Chocolate Chip Pecan Pie

Calories	1879
Total Fat	111g
Saturated Fat	29g
Trans Fat	6g
Cholesterol	231mg
Sodium	1064mg
Carbohydrate	220g
Dietary Fiber	12g
Protein	21g

AAACK! EEEGADS! I've never seen calories from a century later than the dark ages! I mean, we joked about it being 100 grams of fat, but to see it in print is pretty eye-opening.

I know that vegan doesn't equal healthy, and that organic isn't necessarily fat free, but I like it back in the city.... ah, the city, where people don't celebrate phrases like "death by chocolate" and where indulgence comes in the form of a fancy cheese plate. Do I sound like a snob? Eh, whatevs.