Wednesday, July 09, 2008
The Measure of America
Through a happy accident, I had a very small role to play in the development of an exciting new book that will be launched July 16 in Washington. I was on a business trip and met an author who needed a special breed of partner to help her express some very important ideas based on research about the state of our nation. As it happened, I knew the good folks at Humantific who helped Kristin Lewis communicate her data through the design of a compelling and understandable book. Below is some information about it. I hope you'll take an interest.
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The Measure of America is the first-ever American human development report. Carefully crafted by the authors to be nonpartisan, we are hopeful that The Measure of America 2008-2009 will become a significant catalyst for societal change in the United States.Read the rest of this post...
You can see the announcement trailer on YouTube and you can become a fan of Measure of America on FaceBook.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Icoa: A Little Foodie Heaven on Grand Cayman
We knew for certain that we had hit the jackpot when the beautiful little artisanal bread board arrived and practically begged us in audible human language to be savored immediately. A brief glance in its direction and we knew we would have to oblige it.It all started back on Little Cayman at the Southern Cross Club. When we realized that we had no way to avoid a long layover on Grand Cayman on the way home, we figured we'd better ask Terry Thomson what to do about it. Terry is SC's masseur who also doubles as the bartender (and in earlier days was apparently also the boat captain and a divemaster). Having spent a little time at the bar with Mr. Thomson it was pretty clear that he's a very well rounded hedonist. So Terry gave us the eye, considered our foodie tendencies and spieled through a few options for lunch on GC. Watching our reactions carefully, he finally pronounced, "Yeah. You know, I think Icoa Cafe is the place for you. It's in the Seven Mile Shops strip mall. Don't be fooled by the appearance of the mall. The food is really good."
Now the strip mall is seriously unpreposessing, so the warning was very much needed. One would never imagine that there was a purveyor of food porn present given the humble setting, but as K. began using a cute little spoon to put some tapenade on the freshly baked bread, we were thinking that this was going to prove to be a serious find.
Because the appetizers looked so fabulous and because we had been eating and drinking a lot more food than we are accustomed to for the past week at Southern Cross Club, we elected to order a whole bunch of appetizers and forego the main dishes.
Dish after dish, we were not disappointed. Two tender scallops were in an unctous mushroom broth (definitely cream in that "broth!) with a few beautifully shaved pieces of parmesan. I honestly was a bit skeptical about the cheese in this context, but I loved it in practice. Or more specifically, in my mouth. And that bread basket required a refill so that we could sop up all that yummy broth!A cylinder of chicken liver pate arrived with toasted pistachio nuts, fig compote and most interestingly a pot of honey and a honey dripper. Ohhhhhhh.....so unbelievably superb. I would have never thought to combine honey and pate myself, much less fig compote but it turned out to be an inspired combination.
After a sip of crisp Australian Pino Grigio, I would spread a little bit, consider whether or not with this taste I had accomplished everything I needed to in this world and whether or not I could depart with this swallow as my last deed on earth. I have to say that the chicken liver pate was truly unbelievable. I loved the texture and it's robust but not overpowering flavor. Both the honey and fig compote managed to be complementary without repetitive in the ways in which they added sweetness. And the simple, but inventive presentation of the honey in a shot glass with the mini-dripper struck me as delightfully pragmatic and still surprising at the same time.After raving about the pate, I don't want to give too short shrift to the Blue Crab cakes with lemon verbena, sweet pea & mint "Gazpacho". It too was lovely and flavorful. Yet another win on the menu.
So the moral of the story here is:
a) Listen to your local hedonist when it comes to island food (which in the Caribbean is so often a crashing disappointment in comparison to the beautiful environs)
b) Never mind the strip mall because most of the islands are not generally known for their glorious architecture to begin with, right?
c) You dont need entrees when the appetizers rock the house. You have the advantage of being able to try many more items and see what the chef is all about.
The next time we're passing through Grand Cayman, we might just engineer a little layover at lunch hour on purpose!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Missing Robert Graham
When we moved to NYC in the early 90's, K. discovered Fairway. Soon after, she bought our place on 75th Street between Broadway and West End Avenue to be near it. $185,000 for a 2 bedroom apartment? We were both starving actors at the time and I thought she was freakin' nuts. Could even our combined earnings for our entire lifetimes ever equal $185,000? (Thank god my advice was listened to and then completely ignored.)
Back then, Fairway was about 1/4 of the size it is today, which meant that the cheese counter was proportionally humungous. It took up the whole back corner on the northwest side of the store.
Now cheese is important to us. (So incidentally is pudding. At least pudding is particularly special to me, which prompted K. to have this t-shirt specially designed for me. If pudding is special to you, too you can order one for yourself here.) And as K. is of Dutch descent, she is particularly concerned with how cheese is sliced. (At least she tells me this is a Dutch thing, but maybe it's just one of her RULES.) A wedge of cheese you see must be turned so that the fat part sits on the counter and the thin edge stands in the air. You then take the cheese plane and shave off tiny slivers from the thin edge. To do this correctly, you want a cheese plane with the shallowest angle you can find so that your slides are wafer thin.
Having recently moved around in together and being in the process of stocking up on specialized kitchen utensils, we were in search of a cheese plane with the properly shallow angle on the blade. Given that Fairway had a cheese counter that completely blew our minds, we thought we'd ask for some advice there while we were shopping.
That particular day in 1993, there was an elfin man behind the cheese counter. He was bald, African-American, sparkling eyes and a smile that lit up the store. K. explained her quest and he said, "Wait here!" He bounded into the back for about 3 minutes and then darted out from behind the wheels of parmesan. With a flourish, he handed K. a cheese plane. K. looked at it, agreed it looked like a plausible tool for the purpose and inquired as to it's price. "Take it!" he said. Really? Us starving actors loved a freebie. "Sure! It's from one of my vendors. I hope it works out for you." He laughed with a tenor laugh that was sweet and infectious.
"Who are you?" asked K. of her cheese angel.
"Robert!" he replied and stuck out his hand.
For the next decade, K. always greeted Robert with a hug and a kiss. She loved to surprise him by sneaking up behind him and hugging him when he wasn't looking. Everytime we went shopping (and being NYCers we go the store nearly daily because it's so convenient), part of our consciousness was occupied with keeping an eye out for Robert.
We got to know Robert pretty well in the intervening years. Like all of Robert's customers, we became friends, too. We consoled him after the death of his wife and the mother of his children due to hospital malpractice. (Another customer provided legal counsel.) We left anonymous holiday gifts for the girls in the first year after that sad event. I dropped off research on therapy options for him in the hopes he could find the right support for his youngest. We asked after his social life, his girlfriends, his family every time we saw him.
For the last week or so, my consciousness keeps an eye out for Robert. But I know he's not there. As our neighbor and food critic Ed Levine noted, on his blog last week Robert passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.
It's a senseless tragedy and my world is smaller for his passing. My neighborhood is less for his absence. But my heart is full of gratitude for having known him for 15 years. For having known his smile, his greeting, and his heart. I didn't know it was the last time I would ever see him when I gave him a big hug a couple of weeks ago. But I'm grateful that was our last moment together. That is the way I will remember him. Read the rest of this post...
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Back then, Fairway was about 1/4 of the size it is today, which meant that the cheese counter was proportionally humungous. It took up the whole back corner on the northwest side of the store.
Now cheese is important to us. (So incidentally is pudding. At least pudding is particularly special to me, which prompted K. to have this t-shirt specially designed for me. If pudding is special to you, too you can order one for yourself here.) And as K. is of Dutch descent, she is particularly concerned with how cheese is sliced. (At least she tells me this is a Dutch thing, but maybe it's just one of her RULES.) A wedge of cheese you see must be turned so that the fat part sits on the counter and the thin edge stands in the air. You then take the cheese plane and shave off tiny slivers from the thin edge. To do this correctly, you want a cheese plane with the shallowest angle you can find so that your slides are wafer thin.
Having recently moved around in together and being in the process of stocking up on specialized kitchen utensils, we were in search of a cheese plane with the properly shallow angle on the blade. Given that Fairway had a cheese counter that completely blew our minds, we thought we'd ask for some advice there while we were shopping.
That particular day in 1993, there was an elfin man behind the cheese counter. He was bald, African-American, sparkling eyes and a smile that lit up the store. K. explained her quest and he said, "Wait here!" He bounded into the back for about 3 minutes and then darted out from behind the wheels of parmesan. With a flourish, he handed K. a cheese plane. K. looked at it, agreed it looked like a plausible tool for the purpose and inquired as to it's price. "Take it!" he said. Really? Us starving actors loved a freebie. "Sure! It's from one of my vendors. I hope it works out for you." He laughed with a tenor laugh that was sweet and infectious.
"Who are you?" asked K. of her cheese angel.
"Robert!" he replied and stuck out his hand.
For the next decade, K. always greeted Robert with a hug and a kiss. She loved to surprise him by sneaking up behind him and hugging him when he wasn't looking. Everytime we went shopping (and being NYCers we go the store nearly daily because it's so convenient), part of our consciousness was occupied with keeping an eye out for Robert.
We got to know Robert pretty well in the intervening years. Like all of Robert's customers, we became friends, too. We consoled him after the death of his wife and the mother of his children due to hospital malpractice. (Another customer provided legal counsel.) We left anonymous holiday gifts for the girls in the first year after that sad event. I dropped off research on therapy options for him in the hopes he could find the right support for his youngest. We asked after his social life, his girlfriends, his family every time we saw him.
For the last week or so, my consciousness keeps an eye out for Robert. But I know he's not there. As our neighbor and food critic Ed Levine noted, on his blog last week Robert passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.
It's a senseless tragedy and my world is smaller for his passing. My neighborhood is less for his absence. But my heart is full of gratitude for having known him for 15 years. For having known his smile, his greeting, and his heart. I didn't know it was the last time I would ever see him when I gave him a big hug a couple of weeks ago. But I'm grateful that was our last moment together. That is the way I will remember him. Read the rest of this post...
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
"Porno Pie" Slices at Artichoke
The pizza theme continues.
We went to see the Duplass Brothers' Baghead at the TFF tonight. We'd missed it at Sundance and both Sherpa Dan and Josh Leonard told me it was worth seeing. I was a bit concerned because I generally agree with Sherpa Dan, but Mr. Leonard and I seem to have completely opposite tastes in film (much to my consternation). Anyway, they were both right. It's a smart and nice little piece of film making that manages to be both a satire of indie films while staying totally within said genre.
Realizing that we were near the newly opened and much lauded pizza joint Artichoke on 14th near 1st Avenue. Pretty much every NYC cool hunting email (thrillist, urbandaddy, et. al.) has blurbed this place, so I've been itching to give it a go.
It's a tiny place where more than five people on line means the line stretches out the door. The line is also hard to gauge because you don't know if all of these people just walked in and ordered whole pies or only slices that need to be cut and/or heated. We stood in line, chatting with some other fun customers and eyeing the folks exiting to try to determine if this experience was likely to live up to the hype. K. noted that it looked like a pretty cheesy pizza. (Pre-WeightWatchers, this might have excited us.) There were only three choices: plain, Sicilian and the house style of spinach and artichoke. We opted for a slice of plain and one of the house.
We hopped in a cab and headed uptown while munching as neatly as possible. K. declared it "pornographic": super-cheesy and a volcanic explosion of rich flavor. I have to agree. In some ways, it's like an open faced calzone.
On both slices, the bread is doughy with massive bubbles, the sauce is strongly flavored and seems to be heavily dosed with some nice olive oil. The house slice comes across as if it's pizza that is actually made with bechamel sauce. (K. said it's like that artichoke dip you used to get when "white trash food" got trendy again at parties a few years back.) The plain slice is much easier to manage. In either case, I cannot manage anyone having more than one slice unless you'd just exited the Mojave and were starving...in which case these would be too rich for your stomach anyway. This video of the Artichoke gang making an "off the menu" broccoli rabe sandwich speaks volumes about their food ethos. If it were a piece of furniture, it would be shabby chic and overstuffed.
Bottom line: I'd have a plain slice there again but K. would rather go to a place with a more sparing approach to ingredients and where you don't feel the immediate need for a Lipitor chaser.
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We went to see the Duplass Brothers' Baghead at the TFF tonight. We'd missed it at Sundance and both Sherpa Dan and Josh Leonard told me it was worth seeing. I was a bit concerned because I generally agree with Sherpa Dan, but Mr. Leonard and I seem to have completely opposite tastes in film (much to my consternation). Anyway, they were both right. It's a smart and nice little piece of film making that manages to be both a satire of indie films while staying totally within said genre.
Realizing that we were near the newly opened and much lauded pizza joint Artichoke on 14th near 1st Avenue. Pretty much every NYC cool hunting email (thrillist, urbandaddy, et. al.) has blurbed this place, so I've been itching to give it a go.
It's a tiny place where more than five people on line means the line stretches out the door. The line is also hard to gauge because you don't know if all of these people just walked in and ordered whole pies or only slices that need to be cut and/or heated. We stood in line, chatting with some other fun customers and eyeing the folks exiting to try to determine if this experience was likely to live up to the hype. K. noted that it looked like a pretty cheesy pizza. (Pre-WeightWatchers, this might have excited us.) There were only three choices: plain, Sicilian and the house style of spinach and artichoke. We opted for a slice of plain and one of the house.
We hopped in a cab and headed uptown while munching as neatly as possible. K. declared it "pornographic": super-cheesy and a volcanic explosion of rich flavor. I have to agree. In some ways, it's like an open faced calzone.
On both slices, the bread is doughy with massive bubbles, the sauce is strongly flavored and seems to be heavily dosed with some nice olive oil. The house slice comes across as if it's pizza that is actually made with bechamel sauce. (K. said it's like that artichoke dip you used to get when "white trash food" got trendy again at parties a few years back.) The plain slice is much easier to manage. In either case, I cannot manage anyone having more than one slice unless you'd just exited the Mojave and were starving...in which case these would be too rich for your stomach anyway. This video of the Artichoke gang making an "off the menu" broccoli rabe sandwich speaks volumes about their food ethos. If it were a piece of furniture, it would be shabby chic and overstuffed.
Bottom line: I'd have a plain slice there again but K. would rather go to a place with a more sparing approach to ingredients and where you don't feel the immediate need for a Lipitor chaser.
Labels: Film Festivals, Films, Food, NYC, Pizza, Tribeca Film Festival
Read the rest of this post...Monday, April 28, 2008
Slice of Life
So last Thursday, K. said, "Let's take a walk" after we had dinner. I built on her idea and said, "Let's go to a wine bar!" So we hied ourselves over to Bin 71 on Columbus where we had a nice Banyuls and a very nice Auslese.
Dessert proved to be less nice. We ordered a molten chocolate dessert (what restaurant doesn't have one these days?) and it came burnt. Burning the chocolate cake did not enhance the flavor whatsoever. Now I should note that I frequently like burnt things (which seems to be genetic), but my beloved does not. And in this case, I had to agree.
Our waitress was rather shocked that we asked to return it. We had perhaps gone too far in sampling its burntness for her to feel it was appropriate. But she took it back and grudgingly brought another. Which revealed the problem. The center was cold, solid chocolate. And the bottom was only a bit burnt. Egads, Dr. Watson! They're making the cake, refridgerating it and then firing it when it's ordered! No wonder the bottom is burnt! They have to make the solid center turn liquid and they have to do it fast. So they broil that m*f'er until the bottom is charred. Ick. Unfortunate, because other than that silly dessert, the food at Bin 71 is quite good.
We left Bin 71 at about 10pm, feeling strangely unsated after our dessert failure and as we headed West back across 72nd Street, I noted that if Grandaisy were open I would actually opt for a slice even though we'd technically had our dinner. K. pointed out that our beloved City is the city of the slice. I agreed and said something to the effect of, "Some Saturday we should just wander around all day long splitting single slices from each joint we pass."
K. said, "Why don't we do that right now?"
We were just walking by City Pie which we've never actually tried before and I said, "Fine!"
We stepped in and looked over their selection. The plain in particular appeared to have an unusually thin crust. We ordered up a slice. Why haven't I tried this place? Is it the generic graphics? That thin crusted slice really rocked my world. It was one of the thinest crusts I've had that managed to be incredibly crisp, hold the pizza up just fine and was in no way charred. The sauce and the cheese were in terrific proportion. I found myself unexpected describing it as "a remarkably elegant slice".
From City Pie, we walked up Broadway a bit and then headed over to T&R on Amsterdam. Most Upper West Siders who grew up on the UWS are a bit religious about T&R. I've never been sure why because while I like it fine, it has never blown my socks off.
That said, we did have a bit of a fond NYC moment with with T&R when the blackout hit. T&R was furiously cooking off all of their ingredients because they had a working gas stove but no refridgeration. K. and I bought a pie and then trotted across the street to Nice Matin where they were only able to serve drinks (until the ice gave out) and had no food. Nice Matin allowed us to bring our T&R pizza inside and order up drinks.
We sat in the open doors of Nice Matin on that hot summer day watching the waves of fellow New Yorkers hoofing it uptown on foot the way we have to do when our beloved city breaks down. Suddenly, we heard what sounded like a parade and there appeared a few flatbed 18-wheeled trucks, giving a ride uptown to as many of our stranded denizens as would fit. Those folks standing up on the truck had taken to waving as if they were a parade and those of us on the sidewalks took to waving back and cheering. It was a strangely only-in-NYC moment.
Returning to our original story, the T&R slice was both enormous and workmanlike. It was of moderate thickness and pretty darn cheesy. I found it mostly impressive for its size, but perhaps I was just still flying from the City Pie slice. K. seemed to like it better than I did.
Now we were into double-dare-ya territory because there was still New Pizza Town between us and our apartment. Neither one of us was willing to back down and so our third $2.50 slice of the night arrived out of the oven just as my brother rang my cell. I explained what we were doing at what was now about 10:30pm and he was pretty amused.
The NPT slices are a sweeter sauce than most and thinner than T&R, but not qualifying as "thin crust" in the way that City Pie did. I like NPT a lot. There's something bright and happy about the sauce and it all comes together quite nicely.
All of this to say, we really need to do that wandering pizza walk one Saturday this summer. Anyone care to join us? Read the rest of this post...
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Dessert proved to be less nice. We ordered a molten chocolate dessert (what restaurant doesn't have one these days?) and it came burnt. Burning the chocolate cake did not enhance the flavor whatsoever. Now I should note that I frequently like burnt things (which seems to be genetic), but my beloved does not. And in this case, I had to agree.
Our waitress was rather shocked that we asked to return it. We had perhaps gone too far in sampling its burntness for her to feel it was appropriate. But she took it back and grudgingly brought another. Which revealed the problem. The center was cold, solid chocolate. And the bottom was only a bit burnt. Egads, Dr. Watson! They're making the cake, refridgerating it and then firing it when it's ordered! No wonder the bottom is burnt! They have to make the solid center turn liquid and they have to do it fast. So they broil that m*f'er until the bottom is charred. Ick. Unfortunate, because other than that silly dessert, the food at Bin 71 is quite good.
We left Bin 71 at about 10pm, feeling strangely unsated after our dessert failure and as we headed West back across 72nd Street, I noted that if Grandaisy were open I would actually opt for a slice even though we'd technically had our dinner. K. pointed out that our beloved City is the city of the slice. I agreed and said something to the effect of, "Some Saturday we should just wander around all day long splitting single slices from each joint we pass."
K. said, "Why don't we do that right now?"
We were just walking by City Pie which we've never actually tried before and I said, "Fine!"
We stepped in and looked over their selection. The plain in particular appeared to have an unusually thin crust. We ordered up a slice. Why haven't I tried this place? Is it the generic graphics? That thin crusted slice really rocked my world. It was one of the thinest crusts I've had that managed to be incredibly crisp, hold the pizza up just fine and was in no way charred. The sauce and the cheese were in terrific proportion. I found myself unexpected describing it as "a remarkably elegant slice".
From City Pie, we walked up Broadway a bit and then headed over to T&R on Amsterdam. Most Upper West Siders who grew up on the UWS are a bit religious about T&R. I've never been sure why because while I like it fine, it has never blown my socks off.
That said, we did have a bit of a fond NYC moment with with T&R when the blackout hit. T&R was furiously cooking off all of their ingredients because they had a working gas stove but no refridgeration. K. and I bought a pie and then trotted across the street to Nice Matin where they were only able to serve drinks (until the ice gave out) and had no food. Nice Matin allowed us to bring our T&R pizza inside and order up drinks.
We sat in the open doors of Nice Matin on that hot summer day watching the waves of fellow New Yorkers hoofing it uptown on foot the way we have to do when our beloved city breaks down. Suddenly, we heard what sounded like a parade and there appeared a few flatbed 18-wheeled trucks, giving a ride uptown to as many of our stranded denizens as would fit. Those folks standing up on the truck had taken to waving as if they were a parade and those of us on the sidewalks took to waving back and cheering. It was a strangely only-in-NYC moment.
Returning to our original story, the T&R slice was both enormous and workmanlike. It was of moderate thickness and pretty darn cheesy. I found it mostly impressive for its size, but perhaps I was just still flying from the City Pie slice. K. seemed to like it better than I did.
Now we were into double-dare-ya territory because there was still New Pizza Town between us and our apartment. Neither one of us was willing to back down and so our third $2.50 slice of the night arrived out of the oven just as my brother rang my cell. I explained what we were doing at what was now about 10:30pm and he was pretty amused.
The NPT slices are a sweeter sauce than most and thinner than T&R, but not qualifying as "thin crust" in the way that City Pie did. I like NPT a lot. There's something bright and happy about the sauce and it all comes together quite nicely.
All of this to say, we really need to do that wandering pizza walk one Saturday this summer. Anyone care to join us? Read the rest of this post...
Sunday, March 16, 2008
If there’s one thing I could happily eat every day it’s...
...Pizza! I have been kookoo for pizza as long as I can remember. My sister worked at Vinne’s Pizzeria in Scarsdale when I was a kid in the 70's and while I have no idea if their pizza was any good (it’s long defunct so there’s no way to know), I thought that it was cool she worked there. Growing up, Pizza & Brew became the destination of choice for pretty much every birthday party in elementary and junior high. When I went to boarding school, Sunday nights were awaited with bated breath because that was pizza and Pepsi night. (I suspect that’s an unthinkable menu for a boarding school today.)
My pizza obsession came into full effect when I was released into the pseudo-adulthood of college where you can choose your own food night after night. Napoli Pizza in Poughkeepsie delivers so many pies to the college that the Napoli’s go on vacation when Vassar is on break (at least they did in the 80’s). And every year there’s an article in the campus newspaper about the extreme volume of pies ordered during exam week. For me, exam week was hardly an exception to my pizza consumption. There were any number of weeks that I ordered (or scrounged) pizza every night of the week. Ah, the metabolism of the young!
Fortunately, now that I am arguably in full-on real adulthood I have chosen to make my home in The City. Here there no reason to suffer bad pizza. The City has lots and lots of great pizza. (And a remarkable number of blogs devoted to purely to pizza!)
Since this is The Evangelist, this is yet another list of my highly personal and idiosyncratic choices…only with a twist. This is actually cribbed from an email K. wrote to her friend who was coming to town while we are away (I write this from the comfort of the Southern Cross Club) and that friend just happened to have a serious hankering for pizza.
So here is our list (I have embroidered on the original so consider this co-authored), working south from our nabe.
Upper West Side
If you're on the UWS, and want to drop in somewhere for a slice, we love Rigoletto on Columbus around 70th street. Our favorite kind there is called "Garlicki" which doesn't have cheese on top, just a chunky tomato sauce with garlic and stems of parsley. Love it. Their stuff is best eaten on the spot -- when you get it delivered, you always have to throw it in the toaster oven to crisp the crust back up.
Also on the UWS is Patsy's (Columbus and 74th), which also makes a damned good pie. You just have to time your visit to avoid the stroller set because this being the UWS, it can be overwhelming.
Lots of locals rave about T&R on Amsterdam at 80th, but frankly we just don’t get the appeal. It’s not bad per se. It just seems unexceptional. If you want a classic NYC slice on the UWS, we much prefer the unexceptionally named New Pizza Town on the corner of 78th and Broadway. Slightly sweet sauce with the whitest of white crusts.
Now the real excitement at the moment for us is that as of a few months ago, at 72nd and Broadway is Grandaisy Bakery! For some, Grandaisy may fall too far into the "fancy" category of pizza, but their little thin-crusted rectangles of Roman-style pizza are world-class and not to be missed. You can do the very simple, cheeseless pomodoro, or we also pine over the zucchini and the cauliflower. As a special taste sensation, go for the which is not pizza at all, but a kind of bread somewhere between a focaccia and a ciabatta.
In fact we first went to Grandaisy specifically because of the bianca con pecorino. We were staying in LA at a friend’s home while they were away. (Thank you Lee & Josiah!) Lee reads Vogue and we stumbled upon a Jeffrey Steingarten piece about his obsession with true Italian pizza bianca. He went to Italy to learn a whole historical baking tradition that includes baking the pizza on humongously long boards (nine feet as I recall). Of course, after failing to recreate this comically improbably experience in his tiny apartment he learned that the folks at Sullivan Street Bakery in SoHo had long ago mastered it. As soon as we returned to NYC, we hied ourselves downtown to check it out pronto. (The Sullivan Street partners split up into two companies, one of which is now Grandaisy.) We have been obsessed ever since!
Midtown West
At West 57th Street (and another outpost at 54th and Broadway) is Angelo's Coal Oven Pizza. Their pizza is an excellent exemplar of traditional coal oven pizza - we usually get one with sausage and olives which comes with nice big leaves of fresh basil on it. A perennial favorite and very satisfying. How it ended up on 57th Street is a bit of a mystery. It doesn’t seem to fit into the neighborhood exactly, but that’s New York for you.
Soho
In addition to the downtown outpost of Grandaisy (which is in the original Sullivan Street storefront), there is Lombardi's on Spring Street, reputedly the oldest pizzeria in the New World and considered by many to be the best in the city. Lombardi’s is a coal oven pie with a thin, slightly blackened crust. Oh, so delicious.
I'm on vacation in the Caribbean...and I can still find joy in writing about NYC pizza! :-) Read the rest of this post...
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My pizza obsession came into full effect when I was released into the pseudo-adulthood of college where you can choose your own food night after night. Napoli Pizza in Poughkeepsie delivers so many pies to the college that the Napoli’s go on vacation when Vassar is on break (at least they did in the 80’s). And every year there’s an article in the campus newspaper about the extreme volume of pies ordered during exam week. For me, exam week was hardly an exception to my pizza consumption. There were any number of weeks that I ordered (or scrounged) pizza every night of the week. Ah, the metabolism of the young!
Fortunately, now that I am arguably in full-on real adulthood I have chosen to make my home in The City. Here there no reason to suffer bad pizza. The City has lots and lots of great pizza. (And a remarkable number of blogs devoted to purely to pizza!)
Since this is The Evangelist, this is yet another list of my highly personal and idiosyncratic choices…only with a twist. This is actually cribbed from an email K. wrote to her friend who was coming to town while we are away (I write this from the comfort of the Southern Cross Club) and that friend just happened to have a serious hankering for pizza.
So here is our list (I have embroidered on the original so consider this co-authored), working south from our nabe.
Upper West Side
If you're on the UWS, and want to drop in somewhere for a slice, we love Rigoletto on Columbus around 70th street. Our favorite kind there is called "Garlicki" which doesn't have cheese on top, just a chunky tomato sauce with garlic and stems of parsley. Love it. Their stuff is best eaten on the spot -- when you get it delivered, you always have to throw it in the toaster oven to crisp the crust back up.
Also on the UWS is Patsy's (Columbus and 74th), which also makes a damned good pie. You just have to time your visit to avoid the stroller set because this being the UWS, it can be overwhelming.
Lots of locals rave about T&R on Amsterdam at 80th, but frankly we just don’t get the appeal. It’s not bad per se. It just seems unexceptional. If you want a classic NYC slice on the UWS, we much prefer the unexceptionally named New Pizza Town on the corner of 78th and Broadway. Slightly sweet sauce with the whitest of white crusts.
Now the real excitement at the moment for us is that as of a few months ago, at 72nd and Broadway is Grandaisy Bakery! For some, Grandaisy may fall too far into the "fancy" category of pizza, but their little thin-crusted rectangles of Roman-style pizza are world-class and not to be missed. You can do the very simple, cheeseless pomodoro, or we also pine over the zucchini and the cauliflower. As a special taste sensation, go for the which is not pizza at all, but a kind of bread somewhere between a focaccia and a ciabatta.
In fact we first went to Grandaisy specifically because of the bianca con pecorino. We were staying in LA at a friend’s home while they were away. (Thank you Lee & Josiah!) Lee reads Vogue and we stumbled upon a Jeffrey Steingarten piece about his obsession with true Italian pizza bianca. He went to Italy to learn a whole historical baking tradition that includes baking the pizza on humongously long boards (nine feet as I recall). Of course, after failing to recreate this comically improbably experience in his tiny apartment he learned that the folks at Sullivan Street Bakery in SoHo had long ago mastered it. As soon as we returned to NYC, we hied ourselves downtown to check it out pronto. (The Sullivan Street partners split up into two companies, one of which is now Grandaisy.) We have been obsessed ever since!
Midtown West
At West 57th Street (and another outpost at 54th and Broadway) is Angelo's Coal Oven Pizza. Their pizza is an excellent exemplar of traditional coal oven pizza - we usually get one with sausage and olives which comes with nice big leaves of fresh basil on it. A perennial favorite and very satisfying. How it ended up on 57th Street is a bit of a mystery. It doesn’t seem to fit into the neighborhood exactly, but that’s New York for you.
Soho
In addition to the downtown outpost of Grandaisy (which is in the original Sullivan Street storefront), there is Lombardi's on Spring Street, reputedly the oldest pizzeria in the New World and considered by many to be the best in the city. Lombardi’s is a coal oven pie with a thin, slightly blackened crust. Oh, so delicious.
I'm on vacation in the Caribbean...and I can still find joy in writing about NYC pizza! :-) Read the rest of this post...
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Pluggin' for My Posse: The Back of the Napkin
Dan Roam is one of my friends that I can easily refer to "totally frickin' brilliant." His excellent book The Back of the Napkin is available today on Amazon.com.
Not surprisingly, the book has been reviewed really well thus far. Business Week already did an article and an online slideshow about it and apparently the April issue of Fast Company will have an entire feature article on the book.
You will recall dear readers that I predicted that The Intellectual Devotional would be huge and then it became an NYT bestseller and since then has even had progeny!. So trust me when I confidently predict that you're going to be seeing and hearing a lot about Dan Roam. Read the rest of this post...
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Not surprisingly, the book has been reviewed really well thus far. Business Week already did an article and an online slideshow about it and apparently the April issue of Fast Company will have an entire feature article on the book.
You will recall dear readers that I predicted that The Intellectual Devotional would be huge and then it became an NYT bestseller and since then has even had progeny!. So trust me when I confidently predict that you're going to be seeing and hearing a lot about Dan Roam. Read the rest of this post...
