Off to the beach for the 3rd annual pig roast (here are photos from the past two years). Speaking of pig, I loved reading about this chef who got a new pig tattoo, partially inspired by a Simpsons episode. Don't worry -- I'm not planning on getting another one anytime soon.
It was fun to peek in this week's Time Out NY and see my friend Rachel standing next to her fridge, illustrating what the refrigerator of "single, professional women who live on their own" looks like. Between that and the similar food blogger meme, I figured I'd throw mine into the mix. Hard to see everything, but I figured I'd point out some of the highlights (and here's an annotated version on flickr):
Rob (from London, sniffle) pointed out this article about Rebecca Charles, owner of Pearl Oyster Bar, who is suing Ed McFarland, her former sous chef, claiming he has stolen so many elements of her restaurant and incorporated into Ed's Lobster Bar that it amounts to intellectual property theft. I may have to agree with her on this one, although as Rob pointed out -- it's not the same restaurant, it's worse. Having been to Pearl earlier this week as a send off for Greta (also sniffle), I agree with him too.
Given that I wasn't at the beach I spent a hell of a lot of time outside. After Jenn's barbecue I spent some quality time on Jimmy's gorgeous and tranquil rooftop (I'm going to plant myself there one day and refuse to leave -- it's that comfortable). Today I met up with Frank and Lauren for a cycling adventure from Williamsburg to Water Taxi Beach, where we lounged away the rest of the afternoon and evening. We finished off with a seafood-fest at the Waterfront Crab House, where Tara met us for some down-n-dirty crustacean action. Pictures are here.
I slept for 11 hours last night so I think I might have recovered from everything I've put myself through during the following week. Looking forward to a relatively mellow weekend - last night was some excellent mezerides in Astoria at Aliada, suggested by Roberto. We dragged along Lauren, Jimmy & Matt B. to help us with the massive quantities of food, and thoroughly enjoyed everything -- some of my favorites were the grilled halloumi cheese and the kopanisti -- a red pepper and feta dip. Today, I slept through the Joe running club (even through I now have a t-shirt), but am off to a make-up session with my trainer, and hope to fit in a swim and a bike sometime before the weekend is over. Later I'll be headed to a barbecue at Jenn D.'s house and will play the rest by ear. That might be about all I can handle.
A few weeks ago I bought three new dresses. Now, I'm not one of those women who's into clothes and fashion in any significant way -- all I know is that the dresses that are in the stores right now have a shape that is particuarly flattering for me, so I stocked up. I was wearing one of my new purchases yesterday, a black sleeveless shirtdress-y type dress, with hoop earrings and a pair of rather cute peep-toe wedge heels. I walked out of the office, wearing my sunglasses, and headed off to fetch some lunch. I remember thinking to myself, "now this is how you want to look when you run into an ex-boyfriend," (not like this). And lo and behold, I did. Love it.
I also visited my love (well, one of my loves, I suppose) last night. Although my sister, brother and I had a lovely dinner overall, I was disappointed with the beef cheek ravioli this time around. Perhaps it was because it wasn't plated as a second pasta course (after the goose liver ravioli), but served at the same time, just not plated out. This meant that it had to just sit there while we ate the other pasta, so it had dried out somewhat. The wine we had was fantastic, but, like a moron, forgot to write it down and couldn't find it on the wine list online. I remember that it sounded like Sforzato, and was a blend that included nebbiolo grapes that had been treated like amarone for that extra concentrated flavor and a bit of sweetness. Oh well -- will have to go back.
The pictures from this weekend are brought to you courtesy of John B. -- you know you've got a friend for life when, seeing the despair in your eyes when you can't find your camera (a blogger and her camera have a special sort of bond), offers to dig through a bag of garbage for you because you thought there was a possibility you dropped it in there while you were emptying the trash, just to give you peace of mind. It wasn't there, of course -- you had wrapped it in the sheets you had just stripped off your bed like an asshole and had wound up in the laundry pile. Sigh.
The rest of the weekend was much less panic inducing, although I think it might have taken at least a month off of my life. For those of you who attempted to have a conversation with me on Sunday, you'll be happy to know that my brain is now (almost) back to full capacity, and I am now able to complete coherent sentences. And now, back to reality.
According to Hugh, perhaps it is. Another gem, although this one is (thankfully) not dedicated to me like some of the others. Off to the beach for a 3 day weekend -- woo hoo! I can't wait to get on that ferry. In case you need something to occupy you while I'm off, I just uploaded some pictures from the crawfish boil and a karaoke night a while back. Enjoy.
Cartoon courtesy of Gaping Void.
I noticed yesterday that someone got here by doing a Google search for the term "pork butt." Now, thankfully, I'm not the number one result for this search, but I am on the first page. I also read this fantastic article in yesterday's NTY Dining section about the New York restaurant scene's current fascination with fat. Believe it or not, I have not eaten all of the dishes featured in the article, but I have managed to sample most of them over the years: the bo ssam at Momofuku Ssam Bar, the pig extravaganza at Daisy May's BBQ (on Valentine's Day, no less), the lardo pizza at Otto (and the lardo spread at Del Posto), the crispy pork with pickled watermelon at Fatty Crab, the sweetbreads at Prune, the deviled eggs on top of crispy pork jowl at Resto, and the roquefort burger and chicken liver toasts at the Spotted Pig. And, believe it or not, my cholesterol is just fine, thank you very much.
