Dining Musings....Shanghai Cafe & Pakistan Tea House

Shanghai Café

100 Mott St.

New York, NY 10013

Soup buns.  My new addiction.  I was a late bloomer in discovering these puppies. Everyone has been eating these things forever.   Yes the soup buns are that good here (steamed tiny buns with Pork and/or crab).  For the rookie, they can be a bitch to eat.  Here is how it’s done: Gingerly grab a bun with your chopsticks and balance as you transfer to your soup spoon. Ease the bun onto its side so the crimped top faces away from you.  Take a small bite from the side (easier than biting a hole in the top) and immediately suck out the hot, delicious porky, gelatinous broth (add a touch of vinegar and red pepper sauce in the resulting hole from which steam is rising).  Please make loud slurping noises until you get every last bit of the liquid.  Pop chewy steamed bun into mouth and enjoy the morsel of tender ground pork and crab.   Smile.  Repeat. 

While I will always order the soup buns, (pork is my preferred choice instead of the pork crab combo), I’m also working my way through the rest of menu.  I recently tried the double sautéed pork over rice - whisper thin slices of pork, mushrooms, tofu, cabbage and green peppers in a slightly sweet, not too gloppy sauce.  It was a ridiculous portion for 4.50 and it was and pretty delicious, but I would have liked it spicier.  The scallion pancakes are outstanding; very thin and crispy and not the least bit greasy.  They are almost cruller/donut like.  Contrary to the reviews I have read about horrendous, rude service, everyone has been pleasant to me.  The service is just matter of fact and super speedy.  This is not the place to be high maintenance or linger over your meal. 

Pakistan Tea House

176 Church St.

New York, NY 10013

You walk by and look at this tiny little storefront and see the steam tables and may not be enticed to venture in.  But be brave my friend.  Walk in and order the lamb, chicken or veggie combo and you are in for satisfying comfort food. 

Pakistan Tea House is way short on atmosphere, and takeout is probably your best option but I decided to people watch and enjoyed watching the constant stream of Cabbies, foodies, and neighborhoodies coming from the gym ordering takeout (there was also a random drunk guy air humping the side of the steam table while he ordered a veggie platter to add to the entertainment).  I ordered the lamb combo which consisted of meat and 2 sides.  Lamb was fatty but tender and nicely spiced.  I also had some type of cabbage dish and chickpeas which were both delicious.  To my surprise, they microwaved my food to heat it up a bit but the nann was made a la minute and was delicious.  I ate a ton for 11 dollars.  

The Rules


1) Real women eat oysters, drink scotch and eat every bite of their 24 oz. steak bloody rare. All other women are suspect.

2) Try it . Just once. Don’t be a baby about it please. Fearless is sexy. Be it lamb brains, sea urchin risotto, or fish eyeballs. It may not be as offensive as you think. C’mon try it. Seriously, what’s the worse that could happen?

3) DON’T…Reach for the salt shaker before you take at least one bite. Most food is already highly seasoned. Blindly reaching for the salt shaker before you taste is just silly.

4) The painfully obvious: Be very nice to the wait staff. Always. Look your server in the eye when you order. Say please and thank you. This of course, does not mean you have to tolerate crappy service or mishaps. If there is a real issue, then speak to the management. But say it super, super nicely please and don’t make a scene. Now conversely…

5) Wait staff and assorted restaurant management should care. For example, if your reservation is at 9 and 9:15 rolls around while you are having a cocktail at the bar then the hostess should stop by and say, “Sorry, we are running behind tonight.” When 9:35 rolls around, come by again and say I’m really sorry, the table will be available soon.” Like any good relationship, communication is key. People will tolerate a lot of crap if you are up front and polite about it.

6) Submit to the chef and/or the wait staff. It’s a great thing to roll omakase style. Just walk in, sit down and say “I’m in your hands.” Even at your old standby Italian joint down the street. I especially recommend this for the ones who are control freaks or have food phobias. You will be pleasantly surprised.

7) Truffle oil is pretty awesome and classes everything up.

8) Tip 20%. Don’t make a big deal about it. Don’t get all “entitlement” argument on me. If the service really sucked then tip 15%.

9) Rolling food tours are generally awesome. Expensive yes. But very fun. Appetizers and a cocktail at location #1, pasta course at location #2, entrée at location #3...

10) There should be more BYOB places in this world.

11) At home, if you are lucky enough to have your love cook for you:· Serve the chef lots of really good wine while they chop and stir
· Play DJ and select the playlist of old school grooves on the ipod
· Wash the dirty dishes
· Give the chef a kiss

12) Offer your date an aperitif when you take her to dinner. Say “aperitif” without a hint of pretension in your voice.

13) Blowfish is kind of overrated.

14) It’s perfectly acceptable, and in fact should be applauded when one will wait on line 3 hours for pizza because it’s considered the best.

15) Cocktail hour should be mandatory. There is nothing better than marcona almonds, baguette, cheese, truffle honey and an icy blue cheese stuffed olive vodka martini at 7pm on any given night.


16) A hedonistic life is a life worth living. 

The Signature Dish

“Up in the street I live the beat / I feel the heat from this concrete / I’ve been uptown and underground / on every block another sound / in NYC were free to do as we please and no one disagrees / we live the life that doesn’t sleep / we live a life that isn’t cheap / our high rise rent environment will get you spent and discontent/ bight lights/fast cars/ you gotta love the city life / high energy the place to be / you make it here you will agree/ You don’t see NYC like I see…like I see.”

You don’t see NYC - by Roxy Cottontail

I was a fidgety child. Sleep, apparently was just not my thing. Instead, I developed quite a fancy for jumping up and down in my crib. I wouldn’t sleep unless I was lulled by the steady movement of a vehicle or one of those swing contraptions. The second the swing or vehicle stopped I would wake up and shriek and thrash wildly. When I was sick as a toddler my sleep deprived parents could not get any reprieve. The tiny dropper of brandy my pediatrician suggested for an ear infection did not have the soporific effect he was hoping for. Instead, it just made me jump so high in my crib my parents said they were fearful I would bang my head on the ceiling.

My restless nature extended itself to other cringe inducing activities. It wasn’t enough for me to messily gum down morsels of food. Instead, I would grab chubby handfuls of whatever was on my plate and rub it in my curly blond hair. My mother, who lovingly took the time to make all of my baby food from scratch, would watch in horror as I would gleefully mash strained peaches in my hair. I ended up having to wear a bonnet for every meal until I was 3 years old. I do attribute my consistently shiny locks back to those days though.

My boundless energy seemed to fuel a passion for all experiences tactile. As a youngster I spent countless hours perched at my grandmas kitchen sink playing with soap suds. Different textures were absolutely fascinating to me. I would marvel at how dense and creamy chocolate pudding felt on my tongue and would recoil at the pudding “skin” I would peel off before digging in. I was enthralled at how my spoon would resist the sponginess of my grandma’s matzo balls (I never said I wasn’t a strange kid and yes, I did eat pats of butter for a snack). I loved play doh and finger-paints. I lived to go over my friend Adrienne’s house as her mom let us have free reign in the kitchen. We would make slushies with her Snoopy slush maker, chocolate chip cookies, yogurt parfaits, and pizza on English muffins. I lived for my home economics class in middle school and was the first to sign up for pottery throwing classes in high school.

Now, fidgety, curious children sometimes become calm adults. Of course, I am not one of those. Sitting still for me is an incredible exercise of will and patience. I feel badly for the unfortunate person who must sit next to me for a 6 hour plane ride. My mind is on constant overdrive. Linear thinking near impossible. I talk very, very fast. I worry like my Jewish grandma. Walking the streets of NYC with me is a heart racing activity. Standing in line makes me anxious. I jiggle and bounce my legs constantly. I knit scarves to keep my hands moving while watching TV. I pace back and forth while talking on the phone simultaneously moving my free hand to emphasize my point. I must look like a music conductor on speed when I’m talking. I rub my hands excitedly when I talk about a new restaurant or fabulous dish to try. While writing this in bed my right leg is moving back and forth. I shake my legs even while I am asleep and much to the chagrin of my love. After three sleepless months he was forced to purchase a memory foam motion reducing mattress in order to stop what he claimed felt like clinging to a dinghy during a violent storm.

It becomes fairly obvious that NYC is the perfect place to contain my desire for movement, excitement and intensity. This coupled with a relentless need to seek out all wonderful things – at least when it comes to food makes me feel so at home. I can’t describe to you the thrill and anticipation I feel when I try a dish. I am truly at my happiest when I’m cooking, chopping and stirring, or out to dinner trying something amazing. The constant prospect of walking down a side street and discovering that a little hole in the wall serves something ethereal, the mere fact that there are 8 varieties of eggplant to choose from at your local farmers market, and that at three in the morning I can still get a Bahn Mi sandwich somehow contains and simultaneously fuels my restless nature.

Risotto is one of those dishes that somehow reminds me of why I love New York so much and truly satisfies my nature. I enjoy the near constant attention it needs to make it perfect. It’s undeniably simple yet mysteriously complex. It’s a damn sexy dish. The rice swells and becomes creamy from the addition of the hot stock and the near constant stirring. It can morph into any personality with the addition of a few simple ingredients. Friendly and bright with citrus and scallops. Hearty and warm with red wine, cabbage and bacon. Sexy with chanterelles, peas and a drizzle of truffle oil. It’s a dish that can spark the amorous feelings of ladies…so attention all men, please invite your hot prospects over to dinner and have them watch you cook risotto. A properly cooked risotto is akin to floor to ceiling windows and a sweeping view of Manhattan from a 40th floor apartment – what my friends and I crudely call “a panty dropper.”


Basic Risotto

Risotto is pretty easy to master. I promise. It just takes a bit of time and attention and a willingness to stir, stir & stir. So, turn the ipod up, pour yourself a big glass of wine, and invite whomever you are entertaining into the kitchen to watch. Note to the men in the room: making this dish is a particularly effective mechanism for impressing the ladies.

2 TBL. Olive Oil
6 TBL. Butter
Kosher Salt
Freshly Ground Black Pepper
6-8 Cups Chicken Stock
1 ½ Cups Carnaroli or Aborio Rice
½ Cup White Wine or Vermouth
3/4- Cup Freshly Grated Parmesan

Take the onion or shallot and chop into a fine dice. Meanwhile, heat the chicken stock in a small saucepan. Leave on low heat to simmer.

In a sauté pan, melt the olive oil and 3 TBS. of the butter and sauté the shallot on medium-low heat for about 10 minutes (if you are using any herbs such as thyme, sage etc. now is the time to add it). You want the shallots to be translucent but not browned. Add the rice and stir to coat the grains with the butter and shallot. You want to sauté the rice until it becomes translucent. This should take about 3-4 minutes. Add the wine or vermouth. The pan should sizzle when you add the liquid. Stir until the wine has evaporated. Next, add a ladle of the simmering broth and stir until the liquid is absorbed. Continue to repeat this process every few minutes – add hot stock - stir until mixture seems a little dry - add more stock. (N.B If you start to run out of stock just add some water to the pot). The point of all of this is to get the starchy goodness out of the rice and make it creamy. Continue this process until the rice is cooked through but still al dente – this should take about 25-30 minutes total. At this point, you want to add any other ingredients to the mix to heat them through (e.g. add frozen peas and porcini mushrooms at this point). Stir in remaining butter and the grated cheese. Let the risotto sit for 2-3 minutes and serve.

Ideas…
· Porcinis or chanterelle mushrooms, peas or roasted asparagus and truffle oil
· Red wine, sautéed red cabbage and bacon
· Roast butternut squash, sage, amaretti cookies
· Add Crème fraiche or mascarpone cheese at end of cooking instead of parmesan
· Sautéed scallops, grapefruit or lemon juice and zest

Favorite places...

It’s rare to find a restaurant experience that is memorable or special enough where you want to keep coming back. Sure, we have our usual hangouts where the food is consistently good, the service is pleasant, the martinis are made perfectly etc. But the type of place I’m talking about is different. They are at the edges of the dining bell curve. They are the outliers. They are rare to find and difficult to replicate.

We all have these places. Usually it’s a place that is not terribly fancy and typically it’s a little shack or hole in the wall. Quite often they are places that are independently owned and operated. They are the grass roots of the restaurant industry without a trace of overbearing investors or corporate managers. The owners souls and personalities are felt everywhere. You can usually find them managing the front of the house or hidden in the kitchen. The food of course is excellent – usually classified as the ultimate in comfort food, with judicious amounts of garlic, butter and cream. Old school music like Earth Wind and Fire or Johnny Cash is blaring in the background for the benefit of the wait staff and kitchen crew to keep the adrenaline pumping. The place is sometimes BYOB or has a cheap but amazing list of wines. The wait staff is generally quirky. There is always an essential element of the dining experience that is missing, be it no dessert, no reservations, cash only, faulty air conditioning or kitschy tablecloths only the owner could love.
My own personal list includes places like Au Pied de Chochon in Montreal, Mamma Mia (a little shack in Pacific Beach CA), Django in Philly or Eeendracht and Proeff in Rotterdam. These are the places where I get my jollies (Yes, I am a full fledge nerd). Now, don't get me wrong, I love innovation and fussiness. I love going to the trendy places, the Michelin star rated restaurants, and even Las Vegas where I have a shopping mall of celebrity chefs ready to serve me at the whims of my bank account. The Ferran Adria's and Wylie Dufresne of the world have my vote because I get a thrill from trying pine nut foam with bruleed radicchio and a pesto ice cream. But at the end of the day, the places I crave are the Sweet Basils of the world.

Sweet Basil is a tiny Italian restaurant in Needham MA. I loved the place so much I begged the owner Dave for a job and spent several years working for him. Sweet Basil consisted of (before they expanded) a 6 burner stove, 10 tables and 20 or so chairs. Frequently, we would run out of chairs and have to run over to the Needham House of Pizza and the local ice cream store to borrow additional chairs to accommodate the 150 or so covers we would squeeze in on a weekend night. I spent most of my time in the front of the house as the hostess, answering the phone that NEVER stopped ringing, managing the 50 or so nightly takeout orders, opening BYO bottles of wine for those waiting for tables, dodging elbows, bootys and hot food while playing a crafty game of chess to house the hundreds of people that showed up at our door. I'm bragging, but the sheer volume relative to the staff and restaurant capacity was astounding. Someone should write a Harvard Business School case study on Sweet Basil's throughput. Hostessing, witnessing or cooking at this place was not an easy task. You must understand the complex emotional state I would feel on any given Friday or Saturday night when faced with the task of figuring out how to accommodate 4 - 2 tops, 3 4-tops, and 1 6-top (all of which have shuffled into the restaurant inquiring about a table within minutes of each other) in a reasonable time frame. And yes, you can't forget the 30 or so other people that have already been patiently waiting for their table. Two to three hour waits were not (and are still not) unusual. And trust me; it’s usually worth the wait.

The air at Sweet Basil is filled with olive oil and garlic, and occasionally billows of smoke from a dash of red pepper flakes thrown into a smoking hot pan of seafood fra diavlo (the kitchen is about 3 feet from the dining area). Without fail, at the end of every shift each strand of my hair and every pore of my skin reeked of garlic. Anyone that spent 2 minutes in the place would walk out smelling like a garlic salad. My late and beloved 1990 Toyota Camry was the pure essence of eau de garlic. My work clothes were beyond reproach. It was almost pointless to wash them as the smell of basil, parmesan, garlic and balsamic were impervious to any amount of industrial strength detergent. The pulsating beat of Stevie Wonder and Jamiroqui bounced back and forth on the aluminum decorative wall pieces which added to the decibel piercing noise the packed restaurant would have by 8pm every night. Considering my frenetic personality, I loved every minute of it. The customers loved it too despite the endless waits, drafty doors and the cash only policy.

I left the restaurant industry a while ago and now I must go to Sweet Basil as a customer and wait on line like the rest of the commoners. I gripe about the cramped location, loud music and the seemingly endless waits. But it’s really about the food right? My last time at the restaurant was perfect and imperfect in every way. My friends and I got ragingly tipsy while drinking cardamom scented martinis at the Indian restaurant down the street as we waited the 90 or so minutes for our table to be ready. After the 4 of us sat down to a table meant for 2 we devoured several plates of crusty bread, homemade garlicky pesto, sweet mussels, and extra crispy calamari. Our BYO bottles of Shiraz kept us warm (we sat next to the drafty door) while we ate Braised Lamb Osso Bucco, Linguine Bolognese and Rosemary Chicken out of chipped but colorful mismatched bowls. The lamb is the best braised meat I have ever tasted. A massive, meaty shank served over the creamiest polenta ever, roasted carrots, eggplant, zucchini, portabellas and lamb sauce. The meat is rich and tender and the braising sauce is thick and wonderfully gelatinous. The Bolognese dish rocks my world because the sauce has a touch of port wine and balsamic. The Rosemary Chicken is the ultimate in comfort food - a massive bowl of ziti tossed in a garlic parmesan cream sauce with roasted asparagus and sautéed chicken. The sauce is what makes this normally ubiquitous dish special as it has an almost smoky liquid peanut butter like quality. I have never been able to replicate it in my own kitchen.
Of course you still want to linger and have coffee and desert despite ingesting 3,000 calories in 60 minutes but sorry, Sweet Basil doesn’t serve it and that check that was politely but urgently placed on the table is the high sign to leave because they really needed the table 30 minutes ago, so you reach for your wallet and hope you brought enough cash so you don’t have to run to the ATM machine because they don’t take credit cards. You walk out (garlic scented of course) with a sense of contentment and that all is right in the world for a few minutes. That’s the type of place I’m talking about – quirky and unique but memorable and leaves you craving for more.

Vegas and other stories of gluttony, lust and beef brisket...

The money shot...
"Slow roasted beef brisket topped with caramelized and crispy onions, horseradish mayo and toasted brioche."

Yes sir, I named it the Dirty Vegas. No. It's not named after after that one hit wonder electronica group popular back in da day. It's inspired by the glorious sin of the aforementioned city. You see, I spent a lovely weekend in Vegas about 2 months ago and when I think back to that time....weeelll...I suppose I could write about my Vegas adventures however I may get in trouble with my parents, the feds, and that stripper named Monica. Just kidding. I spent most of my time drinking ice cold vodka martinis with buttery olives stuffed with blue cheese, eating the most amazing foie gras at Thomas Keller's Bouchon, having a cheesy celebrity sighting at Steve Wynn's Steak House (All of the judges of American Idol -- btw. Simon and Randy are surprisingly short).

That being said, here is my sloppy, drippy, salty, artery-clogging tribute to my three days of debauchery.

The “Dirty Vegas” -- Slow roasted sweet brisket smothered with caramelized and crispy onions, horseradish mayo on top of grilled brioche bread. The brisket is awesome. I used an Emeril recipe I found on the Food Network website and adjusted it slightly. This brisket will rival your Grandma's - I promise.

The Brisket:
8 to 10 pound brisket
Garlic cloves
1 quart beef stock
3 large onions, sliced
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 teaspoons salt
1 tsp paprika
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 cup ketchup (Heinz)
1 cup chili sauce (Heinz)
1 cup brown sugar

Preheat oven to 500 degrees F. Using a paring knife and your finger, stuff brisket all over with garlic. Place brisket in a baking dish or casserole and bake until browned on top, remove from oven, turn brisket and return to oven until browned on both sides (I skip the turning over step and just keep moving right along)Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees F. Add enough beef stock to casserole to come up to 1 inch on sides, cover with foil and bake one hour. While brisket is cooking, heat a large skillet over medium high heat and saute onions in vegetable oil, stirring occasionally, until caramelized and most liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Set aside. Remove brisket from oven after one hour and add caramelized onions and all remaining ingredients, moving meat around to combine ingredients. Cover and continue to bake until very tender but not falling apart, another 2 to 3 hours. Remove brisket to a carving board and slice. Take reserved cooking liquids and pour over sliced brisket to keep moist in steam tray.

Horseradish Mayo
I use Boars Head Horseradish Sauce. You can find it in most supermarkets in the Deli section. If you can’t find the Boars Head brand any other commercially prepared horseradish sauce/mayo will be fine.

Crispy Onions
Top sandwich with crispy onions – you can use the French’s brand Fried onions (the one’s you top the green bean casserole with). You can also easily make your own. Thinly slice shallots into rings. Dredge in flour seasoned with salt and pepper. Fry in some oil til crispy. Drain thoroughly and season with salt.

Bread
You can use any egg based bread like a brioche or challah. I use thick slices of challah bread and toast or grill them.

Sandwich Assembly
You can either pre grill/toast the bread before assembling the sandwich or assemble then grill. Whatever is easier. Spread horseradish mayo on both sides of bread, top with brisket making sure to include some of the caramelized onions, top with crispy onions.

Sunday Dinner for the Fam...

Ahhh...Sunday dinner. I'm sure many think its a nice way to say goodbye to the weekend and gently ease yourself into the coming week. Personally, I prefer to cook at home on a Friday or Saturday night and would rather go out to dinner on a Sunday or any given weeknight. By refusing to cook on Sunday you avoid several deeply annoying things:

1) The Sunday supermarket shopping cart derby

2) Dishes to wash and you can ignore your laundry pile for another week!

3) The "lets go out to supper" amateur night crowd. Sorry people, this may not apply to all of you but I worked as waitress for 4 years and Friday and Saturday night was when the amateurs came out. By amateurs, I mean the people that feel entitled to treat the waitstaff in a slightly contemptuous way bordering on some weird S&M domination fantasy or the type that think waiting only 20 minutes for a table (without a reservation mind you) at 8pm on a Saturday night was totally unreasonable and would unforgivingly roll their eyes at the poor hostess as they turned their heel and stormed out of the restaurant. I know. I'm harsh and unforgiving but that's how I roll.

Anyway, against my better judgement I broke all of my rules last Sunday and engaged in a shopping cart race at my local Whole Foods, made a mess of the kitchen which subsequently had to be cleaned, organized my clothes closet (I still managed to avoid that pile of laundry) and had the parents over for dinner.

The menu:
- Coconut & Panko Crusted Tilapia with a Coconut & Citrus Burre Blanc
- Crispy Brussel Sprouts with Smoky Bacon
- Roasted potatoes with garlic and rosemary (boring but always tasty)

A nice bottle of wine, some piave cheese with a bit of sopresatta and garlicky olives is how I started this Sunday feast. We finished with molasses cookies and strawberries for dessert.

Note: All of the measurements are approximate and would serve 3-5 people.

Coconut and Panko Crusted Tilapia
1.5 - 2lbs of tilapia fillets. You could used any sweet and mild whitefish such as haddock or cod. I picked tilapia as it was the only fish available that day that was not previously frozen (previously frozen is usually mushy).
1 1/2 cups panko crumbs
1/2 cup coconut
Salt and pepper
1 egg or 1/2 cup of milk (to dredge the fish in so the crumb mixture sticks)
Olive Oil
Butter

Sauce:
1 small can of coconut milk.
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 Stick unsalted butter (Plugra or any European style butter)
zest of 1 orange julienned
Minced chives or parsley

The sauce is super easy and can be made in advance. Take the coconut milk, orange juice and orange zest and place in a small saucepan. Turn the heat to medium -- add cubes of butter while whisking vigorously -- let thicken slightly, approximately 15-20 min. Add the chives/parsley and a touch of salt and pepper. Easy huh?

Briefly rinse and pat dry the fish fillets. Season with salt and pepper and set aside. To prepare the crumbs, combine the panko with the coconut (btw. your local Whole Foods makes a fabulous version of this crumb mix premade). Be sure to add a pinch of salt and pepper to the crumbs too.

Dip the seasoned fish in a beaten egg or some milk and dredge the fish in the panko crumbs. Shake off the excess panko.

To pan fry, preheat a pan with a knob of butter and enough olive oil to cover the diameter of the pan -- you want enough oil to make the crust crispy but not so much oil that you deep fry the fish. You can leave out the butter if you like, however I believe it adds a nice flavor to the fish. If you need to pan fry in batches just place the already cooked fish on a plate in a warm oven. Season the fish with salt and pepper. Drizzle some of the sauce over the fish to taste. The sauce is tasty and has a slightly unctuous mouth feel that is brightened by the orange and the coconut in the panko without being overly sweet. You can also garnish the fish with additional strips of orange or lemon if you like.

Brussel Sprouts with Smoky Bacon:
My boyfriend was an avid brussel sprouts hater until he tried a version of these at a tapas restaurant in Boston called Toro.

3-5 brussel sprouts per person
2-3 slices of bacon
juice of one lemon
2 tablespoons butter
Salt and pepper

Set a pot of h20 to boil -- just enough to submerge the brussel sprouts in and don't forget to add a pinch of salt to the water. Prepare the brussel sprouts by rinsing them and trimming the tough bottom part -- don't take off the entire bottom though otherwise you will end up with brussel sprout leaves all over your kitchen floor. You can make a cross hatch in the bottom if you like but I'm not sure what the real utility of doing that is.

Submerge the brussel sprouts in the boiling h20 for 10-12 minutes. The idea of par boiling is to soften them up enough so that they remain firm but not tough or even worse, mushy. Meanwhile, chop up the bacon into small chunks and place in a saute pan. Fry the bacon til nice and crispy. Turn off the heat and let the lovely bacon fat and crispy bacon bits sit until you are ready to pan fry the sprouts.

When the sprouts are done, drain from the h20 and let cool til you can reasonably handle them to cut in half lengthwise -- that is, you are literally cutting it down the middle so you have 2 halves with the leaves still intact. While the sprouts are cooling heat up that bacon-y goodness saute pan to med-med high heat and add the butter. When the butter starts to foam up place the halves of the brussel sprouts (cut side down) into the pan. The idea is to make the brussel sprouts slightly charred and crispy on the edges (i bet you could do this on a grill too) while continuing to soften the sprouts so they have a nice al dente texture -- maybe 10 minutes or so. When the sprouts are cooked to your liking, add the lemon juice and cook off for a minute. Don't forget to season with salt and pepper.

The starchy goodness: Roasted potatoes with garlic and rosemary
These potatoes are so easy and are always a decent option when you just don't feel like inventing some starch to have with your dinner.

3- 5 baby yukon golds or other mini potato per person. This way you don't have to cut anything in half.
Sprig of rosemary
4-5 large garlic cloves (or more to taste)
Olive oil
Salt and Pepper

Preheat the oven to 350 and line a baking pan with foil (easier to clean). Place potatoes in pan and add a couple of healthy glugs of olive oil to coat the potatoes. Throw in some of the garlic cloves which you have smashed but not chopped and scatter them around. Scatter the rosemary leaves and salt and pepper. Throw in the oven, making sure to toss the pan around at the halfway mark to ensure even cooking. These take about 40 minutes or so depending on your oven.

Part II
Jet Lag Can be Cured with a Scone or Two…

After carrying my heavy suitcase up a scarily steep and narrow staircase (you would never want to be overly tipsy climbing these steps) I laid down for a quick nap. It was New Years Eve and I wanted to be semi-coherent for the evening’s festivities. Well, 20 minutes of restlessness later I walked out of my sleeping nook, looked at my host and raised my brow. My host, who knows me very well (see Part I: Lekker) just smiled and wordlessly handed me my coat. Off we went into the crisp Rotterdam morning where nobody seems to be awake until noontime on Sundays.

Now of course I knew I was in good hands as we drove along in my friend’s tiny car however I was hoping this meal would be worthy to destroy the visions of the “dinner” I encountered on the plane. I travel quite a bit and certainly know not to expect gourmet plane food but you have to assume when the flight attendant refers to your dinner choices as “chicken” or “beef” and can’t be bothered to define it beyond the type of alleged animal protein you know you are in trouble.

Walking into restaurant Proeff was enlightening. Proeff is a concept café (proeff translates to taste/test) with a second location in Amsterdam. Visit the website to get the feel. We have little cafes in Boston where you can get fine tea, coffee, inventive sandwiches, and baked goods (Flour Bakery and South End Buttery are examples) but Proeff puts em all to shame. The premise of the restaurant is based on “food design” which the owner says is “approaching food from different angles…everything relating to it…atmosphere, sounds, story behind ingredients, service…” The concept lives up to its name as the plates, saucers and cups are homemade, lots of butcher blocks and wood, open kitchen, downtempo music and strangely, a little birdcage with loudly chirping baby chicks hanging on the center wall of the bright and airy place. The only other concept that is somewhat worthy of comparison is the Pain de Quotidian chain in NYC.

And now to the goods. Here is what we ate.
Fresh squeezed orange juice and a cup of hot tea. The tea selection was presented to me in 7 little ceramic bowls with descriptions affixed to little cards and tiny wooden spoons to scoop the tea into a teabag. Very Cute. Got to smell lots of different teas.

A huge bowl of tangy yogurt and rhubarb conserve which our lovely chef Elena placed in front of us and then poured over the oats she had been toasting in a pan. I vividly recall the sizzling sound the oats made as she poured them over the yogurt.

Orange scented scone. The scone was salty, sugary and perfectly heavy. It was so good that it really didn’t need butter or jam but because I think Dutch dairy products are the best I kept on putting gobs of the marscarpone and clotted cream mix and the homemade raspberry preserves served alongside it.

A big basket of rye and raisin bread.

Charcuterie – another basket loaded with more carb-y bread deliciousness. Draped over the sides of the bowl were paper thin slices of Gouda, procuttio and a salty dried beef called Naegelholt that was out of this world. This was served with an apple and pear date treacle (gotta love the word treacle) and yes! more butter to spread on the bread.

By the way, Americans pronounce Gouda as it sounds phonetically but it’s really pronounced as if you were making a deep guttural sound in your throat (ghhh-ow-da). I muttered this word over and over while I was there much to the amusement and eventual annoyance of my friends as it is one of the only words I can say properly in Dutch. As a side note, one drunken night my friends attempted to teach me dirty words and the sesame street theme song in Dutch. It was amusing. Actually, here is the picture of that night and the drunken snack we got in Amsterdam …a hot waffle dipped in melted chocolate. The perfect antidote to shut me up after drinking a few too many Belgian ales.



Ok, more debauchery later. Back to the food.

And finally…I ate the sexiest tart ever. It was both light and rich and dammit I wish I had photos to post but believe me it’s worth a trip to Rotterdam for. The crust was beautifully rich and the melted leeks and button mushrooms (button mushrooms in Holland don’t suck) sautéed in glorious Dutch butter. Gilding the top was a brulee of silky goat cheese. Yes, I did have a battle of the forks with my dining companion for the last bite. Guess who won?