Happy Birthday Boho

Living in the bohemian woodworker’s house has been a mysterious and wonderful experience. Last week, a woman stopped by to discuss the ins and outs of rentals and leasing — and just when I needed the advice. Before long, she invited me over to see her home and left a lovely orange persimmon on my counter.

A few days later, another woman came over with pumpkin cupcakes and buttermilk scones from May Day, a bottle of red wine, and a gift… for me. The jacket of a vintage paperback edition of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. She knows how much I love Mrs D, so when the jacket fell off of her own book, she put it in an antique gold frame and gave it to me. I was disarmed by her thoughtfulness.

Tonight, I went to a movie and dinner at Salut with friends. On my way home, jostling my things on the front walk while looking for my keys, I heard a woman shout “Excuse me! Excuse me! Don’t you just love Nathan’s house?”

I turned around and saw a lovely woman approaching me. She introduced herself as P from the salon down the street and told me how much she appreciates Nathan and his artistry. She was elegantly dressed and carrying wrapped packages as though she could be Mrs. Dalloway lost in thought walking home by herself from a party.

“Are you a teacher,” she said? No, but perhaps I have a way about me. I don’t remember how, but the conversation turned to food right away. She was happy to say she recently won a guacamole contest hosted my some official circles in town. She told me about chefs she knows, the restaurants she loves, and that she prefers Chilean and Spanish wines. We said we’d probably see each other again and I went inside to check out some of the things she had told me about.

Appropriately enough, this weekend marks the 50th birthday of this charming guy Nathan who brings so many people together. A party was being held and I was eager to see who would be attending. Since I had so little extra time to cook anything, I made one of my favorite no-cook appetizers.

• cucumbers
• mixed pitted olives
• feta cheese
• fresh mint
• lemon zest garlic, oil, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes

Cube the feta and mix it carefully with the olives, lemon zest, red pepper flakes, sea salt, pepper, crushed garlic, and olive oil. (Mix the oil and garlic separately so the garlic will be evenly distributed.)

Soak toothpicks in water to take the edge off. In the meantime, peel the cucumbers, slice them in quarters horizontally, and draw the seeds out with a spoon. Chop the cucumbers into pieces roughly a centimeter thick. They’ll be a squat U shape, which is the perfect resting spot for  the plump end of an olive. Push a toothpick through a cucumber, mint, and olive, being sure to leave just about a half centimeter of space at the end of the toothpick. The feta needs to hang on, but just barely. If you push the toothpick in too far, the feta will crumble.

Pardon me and my silly iPhone picture. I was in a hurry!

Rather than placing all the spears in an organized and circular fashion on a platter, I haphazardly placed them in an old enamel bowl I got from Savers.

And that was it. I brought it over to the party with a card, a bundle of flowers, and three beautiful peacock feathers.

This House Still Needs a Name

I’d rather be writing about the wine shop I discovered in my new neighborhood today, curated carefully by a guy who calls himself the Cork Dork. Or about the perfect grocery shopping route that occurs between my house and the Seward co-op. Or about my new proximity to the May Day Cafe and their trays full of pastries, foccacia, and scones. Or about the delightful exchange that transpired over an empty box of All Clad cookware in the alley behind my house. But that’s not how it is tonight. As my friend Stefanie would say, I’ve had wine, and who wants to concentrate when they’d rather unwind?

Since I last wrote, I moved to Minneapolis, resolved a terribly frustrating housing situation, competed in a cooking contest, and took a trip to the Badlands of South Dakota. I also made an appearance on the Fox 9 morning news (of all things). I was invited to walk through “my” quiche recipe to promote Julie and Julia--you know, the quiche recipe I toiled over for years and faithfully submitted to the cooking contest to finally reap my well-deserved rewards. Truth be told, I never even MADE a quiche before I was asked to do it on the morning news.

Before getting to that, let’s take a photo tour of the last few weeks. I said goodbye to my lovely old flat in St Paul.

The apartment feels such another world now, like a different version of me must have once lived there.

I did that whole Fox 9 news thing. If I could figure out how to stream a video, I would. Please go here _ http://tiny.cc/H4Nti to watch me pretend like I knew what I was doing.

I practiced the two dishes I cooked at the Mall of America’s Julie and Julia contest.

Here’s the view from my cooking station at the mall. Those are my fabulous friends in the front row cheering me on. Everyone thought I was going to win–and so did I. Despite all my wittiness, stylish sauteing, and waxing poetic about local food (I bought all of my secret ingredients at Cossetta’s and Caspian Deli), I ended up in second place. Given that the event was about promotion and not about food, however, I’m not going to think about it too deeply. Besides, I was sent home with a 5-piece set of All Clad cookware and had a wonderful time.

I also turned the Bohemian Woodworker’s (er, my) kitchen from a shade of yellow…

To a more pleasing (albeit Swedish seeming) shade of blue.

So as I unpack, explore, and generally try to land squarely on my two feet again, I hope to be writing again very soon, but only after I furnish my new kitchen with a stainless steel island and a hanging pot rack. I think those things will make this house a home.

Heirloom Tomato and Goat Cheese Quiche

Check it out — my quiche recipe is done! I have been cooking all weekend to prepare for the Julie and Julia contest — quiche for my appearance tomorrow on Fox news and two secret dishes for the competition on Tuesday.

Cook’s of Crocus Hill is getting on the Julie and Julia bandwagon with a display of everything you might need to cook like a grand dame. I took this as an opportunity to pick up a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

I have to say, it’s a weird (although charming) world in there. You don’t come to this book to eat. You come to it to learn. Food in MAFC isn’t distilled down to a sexy recipe and full-color photo on glossy paper. It is, to quote T. S. Eliot, pinned and wriggling on the wall. It’s dissected and explained. Given all the time Child spends discussing her mentors in the intro, I’m not surprised. This book makes you feel like you’re right there with her when she first moves to France and begins learning from the masters.

Here is my rendition of a classic French quiche. I used Child’s pastry recipe and adapted it to how it worked for me. The rest of the recipe, inspired by goat cheese, is mine.

Heirloom tomato and goat cheese quiche
Carrie Obry’s entry for MOA’s Julia and Julia contest

In this recipe, the wonderful flavors of a classic quiche complement tangy goat cheese and meaty heirloom tomatoes.

Pastry pans come in all sizes – from 3-inch party-sized shells to 11-inch entrée shells. If you are making quiche for the first time, consider using a modest 8-inch pan. It’s a little easier to handle the dough for a smaller pan.

Don’t be turned off by the list of instructions. Making quiche isn’t difficult, but it takes many words to describe few steps. Before you start, I recommend watching instructional videos at YouTube.

Pastry Crust (Pâte brisée)
Adapted from Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking

Makes enough dough for an 8- to 10-inch crust. See MAFC for additional ratio instructions.

• 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour (plus more for dusting)
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon white sugar
• 1 stick unsalted butter, chilled and cut into smallish cubes
• 4 to 6 tablespoons ice water

In a food processor, combine flour, sugar, and salt and pulse. Add butter and process until the mixture resembles coarse meal, 8 to 10 seconds.

1. With the machine running, add the ice water in a slow stream. You will know when it’s done because the dough pulls together to form ball in a corner of the bowl. The dough will take shape and be slightly sticky.
2. For the fraisage (or “final blending”) stage, flour your clean counter. Put the dough on the counter and dust with additional flour. With the heel of your hand, press down on all areas of the dough until the dusting flour is incorporated and the dough forms a silky ball that doesn’t stick to your hands. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 hours.
3. When ready, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
4. Melt a few tablespoons of butter in a saucepan and brush the inside of the tart pan.
5. Quickly roll out the chilled dough on a lightly floured surface until it is about 2 inches larger than the pie pan. To lift the dough, fold it in half and then in half again, transfer to pie pan, and unfold inside the pan.
6. Careful not to stretch the dough, pick up the edges and drop the dough deeper into the corners of the pan’s perimeter. Gently press the dough into the pan in all areas. Trim excess dough by rolling the pin over the top of the mold.
7. Line the pastry with a generous amount of foil and fill with pie weights, uncooked rice, or beans and bake for 8 to 9 minutes. Remove the foil, poke the base of the crust 2 or 3 times with a fork (or else it will balloon up), and bake the shell again for 2 to 3 minutes.

Carrie’s Goat Cheese and Heirloom Tomato Quiche

• 2 medium (or 1 large) round red heirloom tomatoes
• 3 eggs
• 2 plump cloves of garlic, crushed
• 4 ounces goat cheese
• 2 tablespoons chopped parsley
• 2 tablespoons basil chiffonade
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk
• salt and pepper to taste
• 8-inch pastry shell

1. Preheat oven to 375°F.
2. Cut tomatoes into slices about 3 millimeters thick and remove the seeds.
3. Line the bottom of the pastry shell with tomatoes in a pinwheel shape. Save the top of the tomato for the middle of the circle. If the top isn’t good to use, cut a tomato slice into the proper shape to fill the hole.
4. In a medium-sized bowl, whisk the milk and cream. Add the goat cheese in small pieces and whisk until incorporated. After a few minutes, the cheese will get smooth.
5. Add the eggs, herbs, garlic, salt, and pepper to the mixture and whisk until incorporated. Et viola! You have custard.
6. Pour the custard over the tomatoes, being careful to leave about a half centimeter of room. (Do not use all of the custard if you have extra.)
7. Slide pastry into the oven and bake for 30 minutes until golden brown on the top. (Feel free to place it on a cookie sheet for easy transferring.)
8. Keeping the quiche in the pastry tin, let it sit for 10 minutes on a cooling rack.
9. Slice the quiche and serve with salad greens and a glass of cold Lillet.

Chipotle Converts Area Skeptic

You might think me odd, but until last week, I could count on just a few fingers the number of times I had been to Chipotle. Now I need to add one finger — and I suspect I’ll eventually eat there enough to run out of fingers and move on to my toes. Me being me, that’s a high compliment for the national burrito chain with more than 800 stores.

I have a bumpersticker on my car that reads “support your local independent everything.” I used to twitch a little bit whenever I went to the suburbs (and sometimes still do). I’ve even gone so far as to declare that all of my favorite restaurants don’t have parking lots. That’s why I love the deliciously ironic dinner I ate last week on Chipotle’s outdoor patio overlooking the parking lot of Ridgedale Mall. Someone had to put me in my place — and that someone is Steve Ells, Chipotle’s CEO.

Why did I go? I was invited by Michael Fuller who works in marketing for the restaurant. I also went because Chipotle is no longer owned by McDonald’s — and hasn’t been for a few years. Whether or not this actually makes any difference is negligible. Even though Chipotle drew away from the cheeseburger behemoth, Michael tells me that Steve Ells’ vision of serving real food has never been compromised. Ells calls it “food with integrity.”

Learning about Ells and his philosophy fundamentally changed my perception of Chipotle. There’s a guy with a degree from the Culinary Institute of America who speaks my language at the helm of a fast food chain. Chipotle is a nationwide, publicly-traded fast food chain making tremendous progress in popularizing local, sustainable food as part of the supply chain.

The Chipotle in Minnetonka, Minnesota where I ate last week is one of two LEED-certified branches in the country. Both the front and back of the kitchen are extremely clean and tight, and not one Chipotle across the country has a freezer. As of this month, the chain’s produce buyers are sourcing 35 percent of at least one bulk seasonal produce item from local farmers, a 10 percent increase over last year. But you wouldn’t even know these numbers, as Chipotle simply does what is right without any fanfare, as reported by the Washington Post. Ells works with Joel Salatin of Polyface Farms (that wonderfully upright and uncompromisable farmer from the movie Food, Inc.) and is sponsoring a series of free showings of the film around the country. (Here’s a great article by Sarah Gilbert with a video showing Ells and Salatin mucking it up with the pigs.) Better yet, Chipotle buys the majority of its pork from Niman Ranch, an alliance of 650 independent farmers and ranchers spread throughout the country. As the story goes, every time Chipotle opens a new restaurant, Bill Niman can add a new farm to his network.

Then there is the food, which is fantastic. I tried everything on the menu so now I know that the barbacoa is the best item, hands down. The meat is spicy and warms your mouth with heat and toasted cumin. I was impressed by the addictive tortilla chips, which are fried on-site every day, squirted with lime juice, and covered with just the right amount of chunky sea salt. The guacamole is fresh as green grass.

All in all, the coolest thing I read about Chipotle is this quote from Ells: “We decided long ago that we didn’t want Chipotle’s success to be tied to the exploitation of animals, farmers, or the environment, but the engagement of our customers.” This is so wildly different from the typical exploitative model of corporate America. Steve Ells is spreading good karma one burrito at a time, and that’s something I can get behind.

Pizza the Way Nature Intended

The last time I wrote, I was busy recovering from my apartment farewell party. While doing dishes, scrubbing the grill pan, drying stemware, and generally putting my place back to its original position, I also had to drink the remaining Chardonnay and do something about all those leftover Bahn Mi. I had so many of them! Over the past three years of cooking for big groups of people, I’ve learned that the hardest part isn’t cooking, cleaning, or hostessing. It’s knowing how much food to buy.

I bought 25 baguettes from Jasmine Deli. They were relatively short, so cut in half, I had 50 small sandwiches for 20 people. I thought that everyone would have two with a few people having a few more — but somehow this math didn’t work. Even after eating them myself all weekend, there were so many leftover I had to bring a bunch to work. Most people put bagels, donuts, and cookies in the spare cube. I put roasted beet and tomato salad, minted watermelon with pineapple, and lemongrass pork and tofu Banh Mi. I suppose every office has someone like me, right? (Don’t answer that.)

Thankfully, I had an opportunity the following week to share the leftover beer and baked chickpeas with my friends at the Pizza Farm in Stockholm, Wisconsin. Yes, it’s true. If you don’t know it already, there is a fantastic gem of a farm an hour and a half out of the Cities that serves hands-down the best pizza around.

The couple Ted Fisher and Robbi Bannen along with their kids open up their own farm to pizza lovers every Tuesday night throughout the year. They grow all the ingredients to put on the whole wheat crust, which is made from their own home-grown, hand-ground wheat. The crust is thin, the ingredients fresh, and the pizza kissed by the flames of their wood-burning oven.

There are no signs leading to the farm. In fact, there is only a series of dirt roads that make you wonder why you are driving a hour and a half to what feels like the middle of nowhere just to order a pizza.

Once you get there, it becomes exceedingly clear. The farm is beautiful and so are the people. Everyone brings what they need to create a night of fine-dining under the stars. It’s not uncommon to see a full setting with a tablecloth, chairs, wine, and a candleabra.

I had a bit of a geek out moment when I was standing in line to order. Brenda Langton, the chef behind Cafe Brenda and Spoonriver, walked by, which of course I had to declare to anyone within earshot of where I was standing. The girl taking our order said she heard the rumor earlier and asked me to point out Brenda. For better or worse, she disappeared into the crowd as Aaron and I made up things we could have said to start a conversation.

The chalkboard menu has quite a few pizzas and unique ingredients.

Orders are taken and you’re given a number. My car arrived at 5:30 and we had to wait an hour for our order. The last car in our party arrived around 6:30 or so and had to wait an hour and a half. You’re given a number as they are ticked off one by one.

In the meantime, you can drink wine and order a loaf of the farm’s own bread. You can wander around and pet the goats, cats, and cows, strum a guitar, lay around in the grass with someone you fancy, and catch up with your friends.

Angela and Courtney

Stefanie and Sarah’s daughter Elizabeth

Lisa

Aaron and his paddle. If you bring your own pizza conveyance device, I think you save a buck. Aaron brings his paddle and asks people who are done eating if he can re-use their box.

I wonder how many pizzas can fit in the infero at a time.

When your number is up, the beautiful lady in the flowered apron cuts it up and takes your cash.

And you’re left to sit in the grass and enjoy the food.

I’d love to hear more people’s opinions about the Pizza Farm. If you haven’t gone, check out this article in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel for more details, or send me an email if you want tips on the best way to enjoy the farm.

Uptown Market’s Big Debut

This weekend, we all have yet another reason to be excited about living in the Twin Cities. A brand-new outdoor market is opening that is all local, all volunteer, and driven by the power of a few great ideas.

Roxie Speth, founder and visionary of Uptown Market, proposed the idea of a European-style street market to her neighborhood council in February of this year. Five months later, it has become a reality, with the first market kicking off this Sunday.

The Uptown Market is located on 29th Street between Lyndale Ave S. and Dupont Ave S., easily accessible by public transportation and close to the Greenway bike trail. The market will empower and enliven the neighborhood by giving artists, craftspeople, small business owners, farmers, cooks, bakers, and neighbors a place to come together to sell their goods. Given that this is a grassroots, all-volunteer market, Roxie and her team are starting with four dates: June 21, July 19, August 16, and September 20 between 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. You’ll find produce, prepared food, fine art, crafts, antiques, and vintage clothes. Roxie says it was challenging to bring in farmers for a market that doesn’t happen every week, but in time, she hopes to establish the market as a local weekly institution, which should draw a standing mix of diverse vendors.

Roxie’s inspiration comes from her own love of community gathering and vibrant neighborhoods. On a trip to Seattle, she and her friend Jess Horwitz fell in love with the Fremont Market, a fantastic year-round street market with over 150 vendors. And as an artist herself, she’s always craved an accessible venue to sell her work. Once she got involved in her neighborhood council, she met Brendan Jordan, a program manager for the Great Plains Institute who helped make it all happen. “It’s amazing how much you can accomplish once you take action,” she says, “and how much support you get–not only from friends, but also from your community.”

As for food, we might just have to wait to find out what’s there. Roxie mentioned coffee and corn roasters and the purple hot dog vendor known as the Magic Bus Cafe that sells psychedelic hot dogs, vegan tofu pups, popcorn, and baked goods. If you or anyone you know are interested in being a vendor, please contact Jess Horwitz, the market’s vendor coordinator, at jess@uptownmarket.org. See you there!

Living Bread

In my wandering around town, heading to the market, the laundry, or the pub, I suppose, I perked up when I saw that the superette on the corner of Selby and Dale closed its doors. One moment it was full of soda, cigarettes, chips, sunglasses, and all kinds of mismatched junk peering out the front windows. The next it was empty as day. This place is across the street from Mississippi Market and Paisano’s and in the same building as Muddy Pig, and it’s really attractive, with big windows and a prime location that would let people inside sit contented and watch the world go by.

In the fantasy version of my life, I have a ton of cash and I rent the space to create what I’ve always envisioned, in my clever but idea-overloaded mind, as “my cafe.” It’s called Flâneur, serving high-class bohemian food with excellent coffee, tea, and a collection of apéritifs and digestifs. Flâneur encourages extended periods of flânerie, loosely defined as the strolling of urban streets. But a flâneur is also a connoisseur. He (or she, as the flâneuse might have it) has a keen understanding of where a good experience might lie, whether it’s following the most interesting street or stumbling into the best cafe. In the spirit of it, at my counter, you might order a sandwich and a pastis — liqueur that comes with a small carafe of water, a brilliant pairing that can make your drink last for almost as long as you choose. To use Cafe Maude’s language, my cafe would be a spot of civilized leisure.

For better or worse, Flâneur must remain a fantasy, at least at this address. The space has been rented. A sign in the storefront announces a June 2009 opening of Living Bread, which the Internet tells me is a store that promises to put “Catholic life at your fingertips.” This strikes me as odd still. I can’t imagine a shrine to Catholica in such a prominent intersection. Aren’t religious supply stores usually, I don’t know, not so . . . obvious? As a good flâneuse, though, I’m thrilled that it isn’t a national sandwich chain, and that my neighborhood will soon have yet another storefront to amble into. And maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll even be able to replace my broken Jesus nightlight.

Town Talk Diner

My favorite restaurants in the Twin Cities (or anywhere, for that matter) all have a certain something that isn’t so easy to define, like how Barbette oozes with atmosphere or Meritage makes you feel like you stumbled into a corner of France. Town Talk Diner is on the top of that list. Let’s call it my je na sais quoi list, because, you know, everything is more intriguing when you say it in French.

My je na sais quoi list, now that I decided I have one, is all about synergy, I suppose, the way in which the elements of a restaurant come together to create something greater than their individual parts. I love how this ineffable quality can be just as nourishing as the food. In the words of author Ray Oldenburg, I would call these restaurants “the third place.” What Oldenburg means is that most everyone has two places: home and work. But on top of it, to finish the triangle and make us complete, we all need a third place, defined by wordspy.com as “a place other than home or work where a person can go to relax and feel part of the community.”

Town Talk is not only a place to get a meal. It is also a perfect third place. Town Talk is classic, authentic, and well-designed. It is a comfortable modern space that brings a vintage diner carefully back to life. I think this has to be one of the reasons why it has such great karma. The positive atmosphere buzzes with life. Part of me doesn’t even want to call it a restaurant. Town Talk is more like a party or an ongoing conversation, a place where you can always go to have a great meal, a perfectly shaken cocktail, a malt, and a conversation with your server or a stranger at the bar. The only thing you need is good timing, of course, because it can be awfully hard to get a seat.

I’ve been to Town Talk many times, but last week I went to have a few drinks on the bar stools bar with Nathan (aka, the Bohemian woodworker). He’s busy completely remaking a darling Victorian he rescued from foreclosure, so we met at his house-in-process in Powderhorn. After the grand tour, we went to Luce for pizza and a few beers, then we headed to the main course, the cocktails at Town Talk.

One of life’s great disappointments is wasting 10 bucks on a mediocre cocktail, so I like to spend my drinkin’ money at a bar that will never let you down. Town Talk is one of those places. Their cocktail list is carefully crafted and delightful in its attention to detail. I’m a fan of absinthe, so I asked for The Green Fairy: Zen Green Tea liquer, St. George’s absinthe, vodka, lemon, sugar, and egg white.

I know. You’re probably rolling your eyes at me because you know how hip absinthe is. It doesn’t matter. It’s great stuff, and this has to be one of the best cocktails I ever had. Seriously, it was that good. The bartender shook it up for what seemed like 10 minutes, sifted it into a glass in front of me, then added a generous dose of St. George absinthe with an eyedropper all around the face of the cocktail. He even gave me the bottle to admire. St. George is the good stuff, with excellent design.

Nathan got the Jackson Pollock: Bombay Sapphire, grapefruit-lime sour, sparkling wine, and basil oil. The bartender drops the basil oil into the bottom of your cocktail glass. As he pours in the contents of the cocktail shaker, the oil bubbles to the top and looks a bit like something Pollock might haphazardly drip off of his paint brush.

My only complaint about Town Talk is that the wine used to be cheaper, a lot cheaper. I liked how 3 and 4-dollar glasses set the wine list apart and encouraged a healthy glass or two to go with your meal. Nathan’s only complaint is that the cocktails are too small. The gimlet he ordered was served in a dainty glass.

On one of the many occasions I’ve been to Town Talk Diner, this song was playing as I walked in the door. Even though I didn’t know the song at the time, it got lodged in my head because I thought it summed up the spirit of Town Talk in a way I couldn’t explain: the ice cream drinks and cocktails, the friendly bar, the buoyant atmosphere, and the happy din of the place all seemed to come together in this jangley Jim Noir tune. Both of them seem to exuberantly go on and on . . .

It Was the Best Meal I Never Had

Oh, my. Where in the world have I been? I took a trip to Gotham, it’s true, but I didn’t mean for it make me as mute as a batgirl for nearly three weeks. Add on the mounds of work I faced when I got back and the nasty cold I acquired just as I was getting on top of things, and you can see why I had to hit the pause button and go underground for awhile. I’m better now and doing a little dance, not only because it’s Friday, but also because Edible Cities just creaked over the 5,000 viewer mark. Who are all of you interesting people? Are you all in love with food too, or are you just looking for Cafe Boy as much as the next girl and guy are?

It’s with a satisfied sigh that I report back about my trip to New York City. If you would let me, I might talk your ear off for a few hours, with well over 200 photos to illustrate where I went, who I saw, and what I consumed. Let’s start with the basics.

One of my authors was invited to be on the Today Show, of all things, and since her travel partner couldn’t make it, I tagged along as both paparazzi and porter. This is Ronelle Coburn, a master hand analyst who uses the unique markings on your hands to peer deeper into your soul than your mother, grandmother, or best friend can. It’s true. She peered into mine and now she knows more about me than I do.

Truth be told, I didn’t expect to be all that involved with the Today Show experience. I was looking forward to updating my facebook status while eating a free bagel in the green room, and that’s about it.

I was surprised when the page invited me to join them in prep, but off I went to see what there was to see. The hair and makeup stylists converged on Ronelle and spruced her up for TV in what seemed like a few minutes.

I waited in the wings, taking pictures whenever it seemed appropriate.

Next, I was invited by Danielle, the producer, to hang out on the set while the segment went live. The whole thing was surprisingly fun and casual. Ronelle was mic’ed and built up a bit of a rapport with Lester Holt before they went on air…

…while I nosed around the kitchen-set…

…discovering what cook books the Today Show people deem worthy enough to keep in the kitchen.

Someone yelled, waved, or grunted, I’m not sure which, and suddenly the cameramen snapped into formation, the segment was taped, and we were quickly congratulating Ronelle on handling her first national TV spot with such grace and skill. Way to go, my friend, and thank you for allowing me to be a part of such an important experience.

During the rest of the trip, I also reconnected with three of my closest friends, saw Jamie’s new apartment in Park Slope, danced to some top-shelf music way too late with Shawn on a Sunday night, and smoked a hookah loaded with Double Apple hash.

I stumbled into a literary reverie in the West Village and got lost in world class art at MoMA and the Met. I walked for hours at a time without a subway map, doing my flaneurian thing, capturing moments as I love to do.

I ate oysters for the first time at Angel’s Share with Earl-Grey-infused grape vodka to wash it down.

I walked 20 minutes out of my way for a killer cup of coffee at 9th Street Espresso.

I ate a cheese puff (or two) from Murray’s.

I ate a cheeseburger at Market Table.

I ate a long-awaited tagine at Le Souk with Shawn. This place was so fantastic I can’t even get into it here.

I ate a 17-dollar architectural appetizer at Brassiere 8 1/2.

I ate a mushroom fritter at the Met.

I ate a mezze plate at Kashkaval with Kallie.

There’s more, of course, but you probably understand what I’m saying. I was anxious to see the somber face of Manhattan again, which always makes me feel an exhilarating sense of homelessness. The stories that led me there ten years ago welcome me back to that place where my mind feels free.

Despite all of this eating, there was one important meal that I never had. Before going to New York, I connected with a guy, a cute one, a sharp one, one who wrote me effortlessly lovely emails and decided that my nickname would be Mrs. Dalloway.

He got to know me and said, very sweetly, “I quickly discovered that food was one of the major gateways into your heart.”

So what did he do? He invited me over for dinner. An afternoon dinner. We would meet for the first time at his place, over a meal that he would make just for us. He called it the Carrie Extravaganza. I know it might sound crazy, but when it feels right, life is all about taking chances, and this was one I was willing to take.

To whet my appetite, he emailed me his grocery list the night before we were to meet…

1 large piece of Parmesano
1 ball Fresh Buffalo Mozzarella
2 cups of Ricotta Cheese
3 Rosemary Sprigs
2 bundles of Fresh, Flat-Leaf Parsley
1 cups fresh Cumin
2 tsp Saffron
4 tsp Cinnamon
1/2 cup Red Pepper Flakes
1/4 Black Pepper
4 tsp Kosher Sea Salt
2 bulbs, Garlic
1 lime
1 lemon
2 cups Fresh Blueberries
1 cup dried Cranberries
1 small container of Fresh, Kalamata Olives
1 small container of Fresh, Frantoio and/or Leccino Olives
2 cucumbers (1 English)
2 large, Red Onions
1 large, White Onions
2 large Red Bell Peppers
10 baby Jerusalem Artichokes
1 Jalapeno Pepper
5 Large, Whole Ripened Tomatoes
2 Small, Plum Tomatoes
1 container, Organic Baby Spinach
1 pound of flower
2 dozen eggs
1 container of corn starch
1 box Sugar
1 cup of Heavy Cream
1/2 cup Pine Nuts
4 whole, soft shell crabs
1 12 to 18-long sourdough baguette
1 cup Marsala Wine
2 cups Organic, No-Chicken Broth

Oh… Dear… Oh… My…

Can you tell how speechless this evocative list must have left me? I couldn’t believe that someone was doing this for me, all based on the charming letters and calls we had shared so far.

Unfortunately, fate intervened and my afternoon date had a family health emergency. The extravaganza would have to be postponed.

Instead, we met at the last minute at an atmospheric cafe in the Village, as soon as he could get there, which was 12:30 in the morning. We sat in a booth by the front window next to this charming lady, and we stayed until 6 a.m. Eventually, we ended up on the same side of the booth, and I got on my return flight later in the morning thinking that the best meal in New York was the one I never got to eat.

Yummy Yummy Citrus Boys

Five-year-old Julian Kruesser gets his own cooking show called Big Kitchen with Food. It’s a long video that’s worth every minute. Embedding doesn’t seem to work, so please go here and watch the cute boy teach us how to bake cookies.

http://www.boingboing.net/2009/01/06/big-kitchen-with-foo.html

Chef Julian says funny things like this:

“Be sure to use local stuff because that will make the cookies good for you. Nice and good cookies to eat.”

“I would mix this up because that’s how you make a batter. You can’t make a batter without mixing it up.”

This one he says with great precision and authority: “Now. Take your cookie cutter. Make some men.”

I hear ya, Julian!