slkinsey
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Posts posted by slkinsey
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slk -- what did squash ever do to you? What did you ever do to squash? Maybe you just don't understand squash. And then again, maybe squash doesn't understand you.
Although I grew up in Boston, both my parents are from the South. Squash is a major staple of the Southern diet. The Kinsey dinner table featured a lot of squash. This, combined with my mother's ironclad "you have to eat at least a bite of everything" rule and "you don't have to like it, but you do have to eat it" philosophy means that I have tried pretty much every type and preparation of squash at least 50 times. The smell of pureed acorn or butternut squash is still enough to make me gag. I have no doubt that I could overcome this aversion a la Steingarten, but I am confortable with my prejudices. (That said, I always try it again if I get squash as part of a dish at a fancy restaurant.)
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I hate squash, so I really don't know what they're doing with it. I've just noticed it on practically every high-end menu I've seen in the last 6 months.
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The water deal has several reasons: 1. Being fully hydrated is critical to proper functioning of the vocal apparatus for singing. 2. The food at Bianca (that we had anyway) was fairly salty, which made us both thirsty. 3. Alcohol isn't the greatest thing in the world for the voice for a variety of reasons, and drinking a lot of water is the best way to mitigate these effects.
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I would still like to know the vermouth:vodka ration of regular vodka martini. Would that be 1:5? Thanks.
Well... first, I think most of us are expressing it the other way around, as the vodka:vermouth ratio. Jeez... keep up, will you?
There are more or less two schools of thought in terms of the ratio for vodka martinis. The main thing has to do with how one deals with the fact that vodka has very little flavor. The first school says: since vodka has significantly less flavor than gin, one should use less vermouth lest the drink become a vermouth cocktail. This implies a ratio of perhaps 10:1. Those who opt for the "token amount of vermouth" take this philosophy to the extreme. The second school says: since vodka has very little flavor, the drink should have plenty of vermouth so it tastes like something. This implies a ratio of perhaps 6:1, which is the recommendation of Gary and Mardee Regan.
Now, sorry HK Dave, I can't agree with you.Those kiddie cocktails are the bottom $$$,$$$.$$ line for us and for plenty of other bars in the biz as well. In fact many seek out places just for that purpose. That market segment is large so why not appeal to their pocketbooks and wallets?
Again, I think this is looking at the same thing from two different perspectives. Of course you are right that making all kinds of "martinis" is a valuable way for bars and restaurants to sell cocktails and make money, and of course this practice is here to stay. So, from that perspective, you are correct that a "chocolate peppermint martini" is a kind of "martini." On the other hand, the other perspective says that "martini" specifies a certain range of ingredients and that anything that does not include these ingredients is not a "martini." This is why we call a drink made with silver tequilla, cointreau and lime juice shaken with ice and strained into a cocktail glass a "margarita" and not a "lime tequilla martini." This is the more purist and cocktail afficianado perspective, and is is equally correct.
A similar divergence of views is seen in the word "panini." Now, to Italophiles and Italian speakers like myself, this is a word that means "small sandwiches." One can have one panino and more than one panini. To us, the idea idea of saying, "I am going to have a panini" or "we are going to have some paninis" is ridiculous and wrong. On the other hand, there are those in the business who would say that "panini" has come to mean "Italian-style sometimes griddled sandwich," that the meaning of the word has changed and that they make lots of money selling sandwiches called "paninis."
More or less what it comes down to is looking at the issue from different, andf equally valid in their own way, perspectives. That's not going to stop me from saying my way is better, but isn't that what it's all about?
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Right... well, I think we've reached a point here where any further discussion on Mr. Sifton's review, fact checking and whatnot is more appropriate for another thread, as we don't want to get far too afield from our topic, which is to talk about Spice Market.
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So... Patsy's! As Joe mentions, huge difference in attitude between Patsy's and Grimaldi's. And, it must be said, an equally huge difference in decor and associated accoutrements. Patsy's dining room is dim and drab (making for some very dark photos), the plates are melamine, the oven is ugly and utilitarian. But, really... who cares? The pizza is amazing.
It was interesting for me to discover that several of the things I had heard from well-respected pizzaphiles turned out to be untrue with respect to both Grimaldi's and Patsy's. I have been told by more than one source that the pizza at Grimaldi was mediocre at best, and clearly inferior to Patsy's, and I had also been told that a side-by-side tasting of fresh mozzarella versus low moisture mozzarella at Patsy's would reveal the clear superiority of the latter. Well, neither of these things turned out to be true. The pizza at Grimaldi's was excellent, and in certain aspects better than Patsy's, and most of us seemed to prefer fresh mozzarella over the low moisture variety. Who knew? A lot of this comes down to personal preferences, of course, and I also suspect that most of the Grimaldi's detractors ate there during off-peak hours which were not propitious in terms of oven heat.
As Joe points out, Patsy's oven is fired earlier and more often than the oven at Grimaldi's, and I cannot help thinking that this goes a long way towards explaining why they do not suffer the same problems as Grimaldi's in this regard. When we questioned Victor about the oven, he first told us that the oven was hot pretty much 24/7. They stoke the oven at the end of the night, and there are still some embers remaining in the morning when the oven is stoked again. I can't imagine that the oven loses all that much heat during this time -- maybe 100 degrees F at most. And, since they fire the oven at around 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning to get ready for an 11:00 lunch opening, the oven has plenty of heat stored up by the time the lunch rush comes. Contrary to Grimaldi's, who claimed that they stoked the oven only a few times to maintain temperature between two major firings, Victor told us that the Patsy's oven is stoked continuously throughout the day. Of course, he told us in a much more colorful manner: "Look, if you're heating your house with coal and it's 20 degrees below zero outside... you're gonna put coal in only a couple times a day? You'll be freezing your ass off in there." I also wonder whether either Grimaldi's or Patsy's really knows what the temperature is inside those ovens. I am sure it's mostly done by tradition and feel. When we asked about the temperature, Victor showed us his hand and said he'd have a sunburn if he stuck his hand in the oven more than a few seconds. In fact, he claimed to have suggested to the police back in the old days that they use the "hand in the oven" method to interrogate bad guys: "I'll tell you what, if they don't want to say anything after 'one thousand one' I can guarantee they'll be telling you everything they know by 'one thousand two.'" Another thing I noticed about Patsy's in terms of oven management is that the pizzaioli never kept the oven door open more than a second or two. Very smart when you want to keep the air temperature as high as possible.
On to the pizze and the all important crust. As the pictures show, the crust is much more emphatially charred than previous examples. I think we can see a progression of char from Di Fara's gas oven to Grimaldi's coal oven to Patsy's coal oven. The char gets blacker, the bottom of the pizza is more completely charred and there is less "soak through" at the tip of the slice as one progreses towards Patsy's. It is also worthy of note that Patsy's was the first slice I could hold up without worrying that the ingredients would slide off (I didn't take a "hanging slice" picture in Grimaldi's as I was trying to be discrete following their unpleasantness about cameras).
Now, several tasters felt that Patsy's char was a little over the top and ventured into the category of burnt every so often. I have to say that this was not my own evaluation, but I like the smoky bitterness of a slightly burnt crust and it is also true that the degree of char varied between nicely charred and extra charred from pizza to pizza and especially from slice to slice.
Getting back to the main event, for me, which is the crust. There are, to my mind, some interesting comparisons to be made between the crusts at Patsy's and Grimaldi's. I found the crust at Grimaldi's generally chewier, "wheatier" and more flavorful than the crust at Patsy's. On the other hand, the crust at Patsy's is etherially light, thinner, features more charred flavor and, despite being lighter and thinner, actually seemed stronger than the crust at Grimaldi's. Patsy's was the first pizza where I never once thought of reaching for a fork and knife, as they always folded securely in half and never suffered from "soggy tip" (this is most apparent in the Di Fara slice above). Interestingly, it did not seem critically important to eat Patsy's pizza within 90 seconds of the pie hitting the table in order to get a "peak crust experience" as it had at Grimaldi's. In fact, the sixth pizza was mostly for the gluttons and several of us had a second slice which was just as good as the first. In conclusion, I can't say exactly whether I prefer Patsy's crust or Grimaldi's crust better when both are consumed at their peak. They are different, but both are excellent examples of the classic NYC style. After 90 seconds, Patsy's is the clear winner.
On to the toppings: Patsy's toppings are good, but clearly third place among the places we have visited thus far. For people for whom the toppings are the main show, Di Fara is still clearly in he lead. As Joe points out, Patsy's sauce is in the middle between Di Fara's strongly flavored cooked sauce and Grimaldi's uncomplicated fresh sauce. I'd probably give the nudge to Grimaldi's in this department. Patsy's sauce didn't reaslly make much of an impact, and seemed mostly to serve as a flavor vehicle that brought the crust and toppings together.
Again, the pizza was sparsely covered with cheese, which is to my preference, as opposed to Dom's more generous hand at Di Fara. The availability of fresh mozzarella made a big difference, in my opinion, for this style of pizza. I had been expecting the fresh mozzarella on the pizza margherita to be watery and rubbery as it is in most implementations. But at Patsy's the oven was hot enough and the cheese little enough that it worked really very well. The low moisture cheese was excellent in its own way, but I didn't think it had as much flavor as the fresh mozzarella which provided a clean "white" taste and a rich mouthfeel that contrasted nicely with the dark, earthy, slightly bitter flavor of the crust.
As for the other toppings... nothing to write home about. This is one area where Patsy's could really improve. In today's day and age, and in a city like New York, there is no reason to use insipid canned olives and merely acceptable pepperoni. There are many pizzerie in the city offering a markedly inferior pizza with much better toppings. I'd like to see Patsy's going a little more "gourmet" with their toppings -- using better olives, better sausage, and so on. I'd be glad to have them stay traditional NYC with the range of toppings offered, but it shouldn't be too difficult to roast their own peppers and acquire better sausage like Grimaldi's does. All this is to say that the clear choice for Patsy's is an unadorned cheese and tomato pizza. Although others felt it was too strong, I rather enjoyed the contrast offered by the marinara pizza with its hefty dose of garlic. But I would agree that it's not the pizza to buy if you're only getting one.
Sigh... one of these days I'll get the group to indulge me in an anchovy pizza. One of my favorites at Lombardi's is anchovy and capers.
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Detailed notes later. For now, some pictures.
Check out the art, and especially the phone number on this menu. When do you figure is the last time they updated this? 1943?
Here is the oven:
Looking inside:
Making pizza:
Cheese:
Into the oven:
We had six pizze between the eight of us!
Regular low-moisture mozzarella on the "reference standard" cheese and tomato pizza:
The same with fresh mozzarella:
Side-by-side comparison of fresh and low moisture slices:
Check out the char:
Close up of the char:
A "marinara" pizza. No cheese, lots of fresh garlic:
Pepperoni:
Olive:
bergerka with our waiter, Pan to the right:
slkinsey hiding behind a well-charred slice, next to JosephB:
In case anyone's looking for work:
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get a piece of inch-thick soapstone
I did a substantial amount of research/pricing on soapstone and was almost ready to buy one until the question of porosity hit me. Since I couldn't find anyone that used a soapstone for bread/pizza to ask, I ended up going with another solution (fire brick). Although soapstone transfers a substantial amount of heat to the bottom crust, does it wick away moisture as quickly as the ceramic stones do? From the research I had done, my impression was that the stone did not seem porous enough, and too much steam would be trapped between the crust and baking surface. Since you bake with a soapstone, I'm curious about your thoughts on this.
Given the amount of heat stored in a stone of this size in relation to the relatively small amount of dough being baked on the stone, porosity is not a problem. Any moisture on the bottom of the dough will boil off pretty much immediately. For pizza in particular my experience is that having a very hot and very massive stone is the single most important thing for the home baker. By the way, I got the idea back in my old sourdough idealogue days from one of my coevals on rec.food.sourdough. He routinely bakes very large (5 pound) loaves on his soapstone and swears that it gives him oven spring and other results that he has been unable to obtain with any other thermal material.
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Actually, although you may not realize it, sometimes when you're gone we secretly replace the normal Bux served on eGullet with Folger's Instant Crystals. So far, no one can tell the difference.
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Sounds pretty good, too:
Olivier Muller flavors his sauerkraut with Riesling and juniper, and uses acorn-fed suckling pigs from a Pennsylvania farm for his smoked and poached pork shoulder, mustard-crusted pork chop and leg, and crisp pork-belly confit, to which he adds smoked bacon, sausages, and a sumptuous pork liver–and–foie gras quenelle -
Very short on time today and without rehashing the vodkatini or the gin martini, historical accuracy, common public belief/ordering tendancies, etc., so I'll be brief.
A Very Dry Martini = no vermouth.
A Dry Martini = little vermouth.
A Martini = a slkinsey household martini.
Hey!
Seriously, though, as much as I am a crusader for more vermouth in martinis, I certainly recognize that what beans says is absolutely correct from the standpoint of someone on her side of the bar who is in the business of satisfying customers' expectations. So, while I don't philosophically agree that no vermouth equals any kind of martini at all, her explanation is right on from the real-world standpoint of what one is likely to serve or be served in a bar if you ask for a "very dry martini."
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mdt, go to your local building stone supplier and get a piece of inch-thick soapstone cut a little bit smaller than the floor of your oven. Best baking stone money can buy.
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If you're going to invest in a dedicated peel I'd stick with a wooden peel, personally. If you use a moist dough (and you should), once the dough sticks to the metal you're never going to unstick it and save the pizza.
That said, you could also get an edgeless cookie sheet like this one and it will work just as well as a peel... plus you get double for your money because it's great for cookies too.
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Oh, yea. Guinness just isn't the same in bottles. Even with those little widget things. Imperial stout, on the other hand, was always designed to come from a bottle (the easier to transport it to Russia).
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I disagree with respect to Guinness, but there are a few things worth considering...
1. There are many different formulations of Guinness depending on whether it will be sold in bottles, cans or draft and also depending on the location where it will be sold. All other versions are markedly inferior to Guinness sold on draft with nitrogen pressure.
2. Imperial stout and regular stout are actually two distinctly different styles. "Russian" Imperial stout is much stronger, richer and alcoholic than regular stout. What makes Guinness on draft so good is that it is actually fairly light and low in alcohol. But, really, comparing the two styles is an apples and oranges thing.
If you like the Sam Smith's Imperial, by the way, you might try the Chocolate Stout from Brooklyn Brewery. Sam Smith's makes a damn good oatmeal stout too.
Regardless, Samuel Smith's Imperial Stout is good stuff! I'm glad you reminded me of it -- it's been too long since I've had a glass.
Edited to add: apparently you like the Brooklyn stout too.
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What is the deal with Kabocha squash? Am I crazy, or is this turning up on menus all over town... even at Oprah's birthday party.
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But a month after Gaja received his Tre Bicchieri last November at the official awards ceremony in Rome, co-chief editor of the Guide, Daniele Cernilli, has personally and professionally criticised him.
In his editorial in December’s Gambero Rosso magazine, Cernilli referred to Gaja’s behavior as that ‘of a star, a primadonna’ while attacking the producer’s exorbitant pricing and describes the wines as ‘having more to do with Gaja’s name than with their region.’
He adds, ‘And his wines? They are like him. Technically perfect, but cold without soul.’
This is odd, Craig. But maybe not so terribly odd for Italy? I sense a bit of la politica here...
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The stirred drink will be smooth and "heavier" on the tongue; the shaken drink will be, not fizzy, but lighter and sort of bubbly. The air bubbles dissipate quickly, however, so that effect goes away after a minute or so.
All the more reason, I say, to serve smaller cocktails. I'd much rather have several small, perfectly cold, frizzy when they need to be/silky when they need to be cocktails than one big one that will lose those important aspects over the 15 minutes it takes to drink it.
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A few things about stirred versus shaken.
1. A shaken drink will be cloudy whereas a stirred drink will be clear. Generally, when drinking a cocktail made of transparent liquors, I prefer stirred. This is the main difference. Some people feel that shaking "muddies" the flavors of pure, elemental cocktails like martinis and manhattans. I'm not sure I agree.
2. A shaken drink will usually be more diluted, and there will often be small chips of ice in the drink.
3. A shaken drink will sometimes have a slightly frothy consistency, and will have a tiny "foam" on the top of the liquid. This is not generally the case with shaken martinis.
4. A shaken drink will usually be somewhat colder than a stirred drink.
My personal rule of thumb is that I shake drinks that are not inherrently transparent, and I shake drinks that involve more than two or three ingredients. This means most drinks.
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Ha ha ha! It's funny how this happens every time a place like that opens on the UWS. Two weeks from now, you'll be able to walk right in. Same thing happened when they opened a Ben & Jerry's store on 104th and Broadway.
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I will weigh in too, as I have a number of times on this subject. A martini is a cocktail. A cocktail is made by combining at least two ingredients, and a garnish doesn't count.
So, whoever told you that a dry vodka martini doesn't contain any vermouth is simply wrong. That is not a vodka martini. That is vodka shaken with ice, strained into a glass and garnished. A drink I like to call the "glass of cold vodka."
Furthermore, I fail to understand the whole "rinse the shaker (or glass) with vermouth and pour out the excess" method. That gives you something like 40:1 gin or vodka to vermouth. Unless the vermouth is particularly strong tasting (e.g., Vya), there is no way someone can taste this minute amount of vermouth. For a martini, anything much beyond 8:1 starts to make the vermouth superfluous, and 6:1 is really better. In fact, a lot of people really appreciate a medium martini at 2:1 if they've never tried one before. Now, given that vodka has practically no taste whatsoever I can understand that a vodka martini might use a higher ratio -- perhaps 10:1 -- but anything much higher and the drink is no longer a cocktail and it's no longer a vodka martini.
One thing I have taken to doing, unless I am in a bar well-known for the excellence of its classic cocktails, is specifying the ratio of gin to vermouth and asking that the martini not be shaken.
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JJ, are you talking about Manganaro's Hero-Boy or Manganaro Grosseria Italiana? As you may know, these are adjoining businesses owned by two brothers who have not spoken in decades folowing some kind of schism. From what I hear, the grosseria makes a much better sandwich.
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It seems to me that new cooking techniques are about exploring different aspects of the food. Certainly the diner is going to experience something different (different flavors, textures, aromas) eating a piece of fish that was cooked sous vice versus low temperature poached versus fried versus poached in evoo versus grilled versus roasted and so on. Now, it may be the case that you prefer the crisp texture and Maillard flavors produced by certain cooking techniques, and that's fine. But I wouldn't go so far to suggest that any one of these techniques necessarily produces "better flavor and texture." Who is to say whether a piece of poached salmon has better flavor and texture than grilled salmon? They are simply cooking techniques that highlight different aspects of the product. This is why I find dishes "cooked X ways" so interesting -- I get to experience several preparations that bring out different features of the ingredient. New cooking techniques, as I view them, are all about highlighting aspects of the ingredient that were not possible with existing techniques or technology. And, of course, some of them are for the sake of convenience -- but this is not as interesting to me.
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Well... my point was more that, had these forums been populated early on with intellectual foodies from Portland instead of New York -- and certainly they exist there, albeit in smaller numbers -- then people might form a similar impression about the PNW forum. I don't think it's a coincidence that there happen to be many people of a certain type in NYC, but I also would not suggest that people of that type do not exist in other cities. All this is to say that there is a Bux-equivalent in Portland, just not as many of them.
The real point of all this, of course, is that you can be replaced!
Bianca
in New York: Dining
Posted
Ate there last PM with bergerka and ewindels. What a great place and what a great bargain!
When we arrived (around 7:30 on a Saturday night) the place was jumping. The host took my name and suggested we take a drink at the bar next door where he would find us when our table was ready. The bar is a typical self-consciously downdown-drab-hip place. We had "gimlets" that were made with fresh lime juice. Not really a gimlet, of course, but a nice refreshing drink nonetheless. Anyway, this gives you a good picture of what the staff is like at Bianca: after around 15 minutes I noticed that I hadn't seen the guy from Bianca come in to the bar to fetch anyone, so I decided to poke my head out and see what was what. As it so happened, the host was standing in front of the restaurant taking some new names for the list. He looked up and immediately said, "Don't worry Sam, I haven't forgotten about you. Your table will open up soon and I'll come in to pick you up." Didn't have to refer to his list to remember my name or anything. And, true to his word, he came in to get us about 5 minutes later.
The room is small and was completely filled, which one would expect at 8:00 on Saturday night. Our table was quite comfortable, but we did note a few two-tops along the back wall that looked a little cramped.
So, the meal started with some very nice bread and a puddle of excellent, green evoo. For antipasti we split the gnocco fritto and the sauteed fegatini. The gnocco fritto (always referred to in the singular, for some reason, even though there are always several to a serving) was a plate with six warm, pillowey, rectangles of biscuit-like dough fried in olive oil and served with either salumi or cheese. We opted for the salumi, and got some nice pieces of sopressata, prosciutto, mortadella and coppa. Nothing like draping a piece of salume over a warm gnocco so the pork fat melts into the dough. This dish was absolutely corrrect. The star of the antipasti, however, was the sauteed chicken livers glazed with balsamic vinegar. Simply put, this dish was perfect... and perfectly huge! Take warning, no one person should order this antipasto. There must have been 20 chicken livers! The livers were cooked just right. Pink in the middle with a light texture, and without that aggressive "livery" flavor of overcooked liver. The sweet balsamic vinegar mingled with the cooking liquids exuded from the livers to make a simple sauce. The dish is presented with a mound of livers poured over three pieces of bread, and we found ourselves emptying the bread basket to soak up all the sauce as we finished the livers. To be honest, if one is going to go the antipasto-primo-secondo-dolce route, the chicken livers alone would be plenty of antipasto for a party of four.
For the primi we split two dishes. First was a nicely done taglierini ai frutti di mare. This had excellent, firm pasta, a nicely spicy tomato-based sauce and good seafood (shrimp, clams, mussels, squid). The shellfish were, in the Italian style, still in the shell. It was a very nice dish, appropriately sized and quite tasty. My only criticism is that the ratio of pasta to condiment wasn't high enough. There should have been, in my opinion, about 25% more pasta and 25% less other stuff. It is a testament to the quality at Bianca that this truly minor defect made the taglierini the worst dish of the evening. We also shared a nice plate of gnocchi con fontina. These were nicely light potato gnocchi (slightly green, so I assume there was some spinach in there as well) served in a creamy and ever so slightly funky fontina sauce. Gnocchi are not easy to do well in a busy small restaurant, and these are among the best and the lightest I've had in the city. Certainly they blow away any other gnocchi one is likely to get at this price point around here.
For the secondi we each had separate plates. ewindels had cotechino con purè di patate. The cotechino was simply poached and presented in thick coins around a modest mound of pureed potatoes. The sausage was excellent (probably from Faicco) and the potatoes were very potatoey -- rich without being overly filling and buttery. Apparently a little parmigiano reggiano is the secret to the potatoes. You couldn't taste it, but it certainly made its presence felt. bergerka had pan seared thin slices of fillet with oven roasted potatoes and rosemary. Very nicely done. ewindels and I couldn't help thinking that it would have made one of the best steak sandwiches ever. The meat was cooked on one side anc nicely red on the other, so it didn't result in the well-done mess one normally expects from shaved meat. This helped it to retain a good beefy flavor (which is saying something, considering that it's fillet). I had salsicce con fagioli -- three small, flavorful sweet sausages (again, probably from Faicco) in a dish of tender white beans with tomato, garlic and onion. Everything gave evidence of havng been cooked together for a long time. The dish was peasantey satisfying, and I'm thinking there had to be a bit of veal glace or something in the beans because the intensity of flavor was great.
For dessert we shared three dolci: a ricotta cheesecake, a tortino di cioccolato and ciambella con mascarpone. The ricotta cheesecake was light and lemony, moister and less crumbly than most examples. The chocolate mousse cake had a deep chocolate flavor and came with a dense, irregular scoop of whipped cream (we at first thought it might have included ricotta or mascarpone, because the texture was not light and it looked almost grainy, but the host explained that they achieved the texture by whipping heavy cream by hand only). For me, the ciambella was the best. Three slices of a crumbly traditional yellow cake with a scoop of liquor-infused mascarpone cream over the top. A little glass of vin santo and it would have been perfection.
All of the above, plus two glasses of quotidien but acceptable chianti came to only $120! We tipped a generous 25% and still felt it was a bargain at $50 each.