Happy New Year

What better way to wish you a safe and happy new year than with a big belch from the elephant seals at the Piedras Blancas rookery in California. May all your hopes and dreams come true in 2007.


I will be back in the Big Apple soon, but until then, say hello to my new big friends.

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The Waverly Sin / Employees Only

Winette and I like to get together from time to time to paint the town red, or white, depending on our wine craving. The goal of our night a few weeks ago wasn't any different.

It had all the trappings for a good time. Our first stop was the Waverly Inn. I noticed the quaint colonial sign outside and was excited to venture in. I love old (and in this case rejuvenated) places with history. McSorley's and Chumley's are two of my favorite spots. I asked the host how long the wait for a table was and when he said 45 minutes I decided we would grab a glass of wine and go elsewhere. The Waverly Inn is in Winette's old neighborhood and I knew she would have a few great places up her sleeve.

It seemed there was too much open space in the front room of the Waverly Inn. It was an awkward amount of space that needed filling. There were some people sitting at the few tables off the front windows and the rest of the crowd was milling at or around the bar. I felt I was at the Delphic finals club at Harvard. The male patrons at the Inn upstaged the women in looks and style with their corduroy and cashmere blazers, scarves, straight-legged pants and crisp collared shirts. But these good looks did not come without a bit of intimidation. Had I known I would be in the presence of some of New York's finest, I would have reconsidered wearing my raggedy silk polka dot shirt and black jean combo.

Once I landed at the bar, the bartender asked me sharply what I wanted to drink. I asked for the wine list, and it was an obvious inconvenience for him to give it to me. God forbid I ask him to taste an unknown vintage. I quickly decided on a glass of red wine to avoid irritating him further. The glass of wine cost twelve dollars. I gave the bartender a ten dollar bill and a five, expecting change back, so I could leave him a dollar, or maybe two, just because I was in Graydon Carter's place and I didn't want to seem the cheap drunk who adhered to the old $1 per drink tip credo. The guy had the nerve to keep two dollars to himself without a flinch and throw a single back at me. The guy next to me had to help me gather up my chin and lower jaw off the floor, but I was too proud to say anything. That and I was speechless for the first time in my life. When I told Winette the story, I could read the shock and disgust on her face as well. She didn't want to tip him at all for her wine, but I insisted I'd get my revenge with the pen (or the keyboard in this case).

I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but I had a full glass of wine in front of me. The solution? Chug my glass of wine, throwing all class to the wind. After the Waverly Sin, Winette and I headed for friendlier service at Employees Only. We walked for a while laughing and giggling and losing our way until Winette realized we were way past E.O. On the way back up Hudson we noticed a restaurant front with dark windows you couldn't peer into, a strange psychic sign, and an awning with hieroglyphics. When I tilted my head to the left it read E. O. We found our place.

When you walk in you pass the sleek sexy bar of Employees Only. It was long and narrow and I brushed past a few of the happy beautiful people dangling from the bar stools. Winette had been before and knew the hostess stand was behind the bar. Thank goodness I was with a pro or I would have stood lost and gazing at the dark-skinned weathered Italian bello sitting at the front.
The host asked if we wanted to sit in or out. It was a winter night but the thought of eating outside was tempting, especially when she added outside was covered and heated. Done and done. She walked us up the stairs, through the main dining room and out to the dreamy patio. Lights, candles and wrought iron chairs filled the dimly-lit space and I was in an outdoor eating enthusiast's Eden. Winette snapped a few pictures with her cell phone, and though dark, you can still get the idea. I think the words, "Oh my God, this is so cool!" were spoken every other sentence for our first ten minutes there.



You might think a place with the name "Employees Only" would be snobby and pretentious. I know I expected that, but this was far from the case. The bartender at Waverly should take etiquette classes from the team at E.O. Everyone from the maitre d' to our server was warm, friendly and gracious. It's amazing the difference a few blocks makes.



Winette and I started with the chestnut and potato dumplings, with sauteed mushrooms. Just thinking about the taste of these warm chewy gobs of goodness is making me salivate. I've never tasted anything like them and I am getting the urge to go back for another fix. Winette isn't a fan of mushrooms and when we asked for them on the side it was not a problem. For her entree, Winette chose the cold mezze platter, or loads of hummus, warm bread, and olives. The hummus was the perfect thickness. I chose the salmon for my main meal. A man who wasn't our server came to the table to show me my salmon before they cooked it, which was a nice touch. Most of my attention was focused on him rather than the salmon but that's besides the point. My only complaint was that it was undercooked. For some reason I like raw tuna but a rare salmon steak tastes wrong to me.



For dessert we tried the flourless chocolate cake with peanut brittle mousse on top. Just look at the tower of mousse on that thing! Nothing is better than a peanut - chocolate combo and this was heaven on a spoon. Winette and I never bicker but a spoon fencing bout ensued over the last bite. Unguard!

A night that started out on a sour note ended on a sweet one, but no thanks to the wine at the Waverly Inn. A lump of coal goes to the bartender at the Inn, and a stocking filled with goodies goes to Employees Only.

Waverly Inn
16 Bank St., at Waverly Place
212-243-7900

Employees Only
510 Hudson Street, between Christopher and West
212-242-3021

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Holiday Train Show

Once in a while I stumble upon a special non-food related event in the city and all I want to do is blog about it. Despite the fact that the building replicas at the New York Botanical Garden's holiday train show looked edible, this will be one of my rare non-foodie posts.

It's Tuesday and I'm coming off a fabulous and memorable week. A man I've gotten to know very well over the past five months came to visit me from Seattle. We "met" through work, and after hours of phone conversations and emails, our professional relationship turned personal and romantic, with neither of us knowing what the other looked like. Hawkeye and I hit it off more than either of us expected, and as Winette calls it, I've climbed aboard the La-La-Land Express (quite fitting with this post's theme). We enjoyed a lot of fun meals together, which I will be writing about very soon, but I wanted to share some pictures, though poor from my cell phone, of our morning at the NYBG.

I went to the NYBG previously with my roommates for a Chihuly exhibit. With bottles of wine, bags of crackers, cheese, and blankets, we sat under the stars and enjoyed Chihuly's glass sculptures throughout the conservatory and in the reflecting pools outside. It was one of my favorite nights in the city and I decided I would stay abreast of all NYBG events.

When I first read about the train show, I wasn't sure Hawkeye would be into it. To my surprise and excitement, he was just as enthusiastic as I was. He claims Seattle isn't very Christmas-friendly and he was eager to do anything and all things festive.

The garden is a short train ride on Metro North. Just hop off the Botanical Garden stop and across the street you'll find the entrance. I was a little worried when we walked through most of the conservatory building and saw no signs of any trains or conductors. We wandered in and out of the plants, followed the never-ending path and arrows that lead to the train show, but still no trains. Finally, on the verge of wanting my money back, we spotted a lone train suspended from the ceiling. It was almost taunting us as we followed it down its track to the rest of the exhibit. I pictured it animated saying, "I told you so, I told you so. Patience, Mona. Patience."

Part of the fun was watching families and their kids "ooh" and "aah" at every train that went by. They'd sit and watch the same train twenty times but still jump with excitement each time it came around the bend as if it was the first. To me, the most exciting thing about the exhibit wasn't the trains. I fell in love with the landmarks. The artist and creator Paul Busse built the structures out of all-natural materials : berries, seeds, pods, and vines. He's from Kentucky but you'd never guess it. You'd think someone with such an eye for the beauty of New York City architecture would be a native New Yorker. Hawkeye and I were curious how long it took them to build the 1,200 feet of track and our trusty pamphlet says it takes about 20 people about ten days to build. That's all? Any landmark you can think of in and around Manhattan was somewhere along the windy train tracks. Below is Saint Patrick's Cathedral, and as you saw above, Belvedere Castle from Central Park and even the Statue of Liberty were among the beautifully intricate pieces.

Christmas is less than a week away, and if you're feeling the need to escape the city for a couple of hours, head to the train show and take a ride on your very own polar urban express.

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Chanterelle

The bank Swimster worked for this summer offered him a full-time position in London and he moves in February. I am so happy for him. I also can't help but feel an ounce of pride knowing we came to New York together, both clueless in our post-undergraduate haze, and despite not being right for each other, neither of us would be where we are today if we hadn't met. You hear, "Things happen for a reason," (most often when things don't happen for you), but after being with Swimster I realized it's not just a cliche, it's real. Swimster, if you're reading this, thank you.

The two of us tried to reconnect for dinner when he got back from London. I wanted to hear about his summer, he wanted to hear about me. I requested we eat Korean because that was one of our favorite meals. Swimster is Korean and it was a treat eating with someone who knew that bibimbap is not a form of dance but a Korean-style salad. We finally picked a date and without any further consultation, Swimster told me he made reservations at Chanterelle. I could cut and paste my response here if you don't believe me, but it looked something like this, "&^%$@ Swimster, are you %$#@& crazy!??!" Here I wanted to eat at a hole-in-the-wall Korean place, and he makes reservations for an elegant and expensive dinner. He replied with a sweet message. He's leaving in a few months, it's on his "to do" list before he goes, and I'm the only one who would appreciate it, period.

I got off work that day with a swarm of butterflies. I didn't know what to expect. I'd never had dinner with an ex before. Was conversation going to be awkward? Was I going to have feelings for him? Is he going to ask me about guys? Will I be jealous if he mentions girls? All these thoughts were zipping back and forth in my head. I wanted to see him and get it over with, while hoping the anticipation of seeing him would be worse than the actual event.

I wasn't sure I was on the right block, but when I saw a restaurant with large windows and an elegant dining room I knew it had to be Chanterelle. It was empty except for the waiters in white drifting from table to table, doing the dinner prep waltz, making sure all the final touches were ready for the evening ahead. I walked towards the entrance and spotted a suit with thick black hair. Swimster stood in front of me on his cell phone. I yelled to him and we both smiled and hugged.

Swimster walked me inside and we greeted the hostess. It seemed silly to tell her we had reservations when nobody else was eating but she checked us off her big book and escorted us to our table. It was the best spot in the house: the far corner table with two windows on either side of us. Swimster and I must look important because we are always seated at the "money" tables.

Chanterelle reminded me of Le Bernardin and Jean Georges. There wasn't a lot of decor. It was simple and elegant. The table linens were crisp and the silverware and china glistened in the dim lighting from the chandeliers. I wanted to take it in, but I was also there to take Swimster in. London was great. London was hard. My job is great. My job is hard. I wasn't seeing anyone at the time. He had a really close girl friend in London which made me wonder. We spoke nothing of our past. We focused on the present and the future. It was good for both of us.

Our server came to our table for his official greeting and offered us the wine tome. He seemed more like a creature from "Lord of the Rings" than the man who would wait on us that night. He had tightly buzzed, silver hair, he wore a shiny, silver hoop earring and rectangular spectacles like I'd never seen, and a white goatee trimmed in a perfect isosceles triangle. Not only did he look like he was from Middle-Earth, but his voice even sounded like Gollum. His name was Ed and I'll never forget him.

Swimster ordered a bottle of wine and two servers brought us our amuse bouches. The first plate had two slivers of salmon carpaccio and the other two miniature egg rolls (think pigs-in-a-blanket size). Besides the salmon being chilled and the egg roll being hot, there was nothing spectacular about either. The amuse bouche translated literally means "amuse your mouth." To me, the first thing you taste in a restaurant, whether it be bread, an appetizer, or an amuse bouche should wow you. Swimster and I both agreed, while each tasted like it was supposed to, neither knocked our socks off.

Ed told us we had a choice for dinner. We could order the tasting menu and they would bring us an assortment of plates or we could order dinner a la carte. We chose the latter. For my starter I ordered butternut squash ravioli with oxtail while Swimster chose chef David Waltuck's seafood sausage. The squash ravioli tasted sweet and soft, though a little too soft. The chefs could use a lesson from my Dad on cooking pasta. I tried the ravioli and oxtail in one forkful and it was extremely rich and too powerful together. I decided to eat them separately to enjoy the distinct flavor of each. Swimster's seafood sausage looked like a regular sausage link but it was albino. I looked at it, was a little scared at the sight of it, but dug a fork in. I thought the idea was better than the taste.

For our main meals Swimster tried the pork loin and I tried the filet with oysters and mushrooms. The pork loin was soft and tender. Swimster was happy. My filet was perfectly medium rare and I barely needed my steak knife to cut the soft piece of meat. They were too generous with the mushroom sauce, however, which is saying a lot because I usually drown filets in sauce whether it's poivre or bearnaise. When oysters are served, you want to be able to taste them, and the poor guys were overpowered by the thick mushroom sauce.

Our server returned to the table with dessert menus, and while we couldn't think of fitting anything else in our stomachs, we wanted to go the distance, and try all we could at Chanterelle. Thank goodness we did. Dessert at Chanterelle is worth the visit itself. It was the highlight of the feast. To give you an idea there's no cookbook for the restaurant Chanterelle (not counting Staff Meals), but there is a cookbook for the desserts The Sweet Life and one of the servers was kind enough to bring me the cookbook. We ordered one thing each, but we ended up getting a lot more. Swimster chose the apple dessert which came in two parts: one part apple cake and one part stuffed baked apple. I dug my fork into both and "mmm-ed" for five minutes chewing on the soft warm cake and the crisp baked apple. I chose the chocolate tarte in hazelnut crust. My tarte was a thick mousse wrapped in a hazelnut crust. The crust was crumbly-my favorite crust. I felt we were in Beauty and the Beast. Servers came by our table dropping off goodies one right after the other in a sort of dessert train. First we got the main desserts, then a dish of candies, followed by a tea tray of cookies. My only wish is they served them in a little container to take home. We were so stuffed we couldn't appreciate them all.

Swimster and I left Chanterelle with full stomachs and smiles. We were not completely blown away by dinner, but it was a special night nonetheless. After I said goodbye to Swimster, I turned around and watched him cross the street, wiping away tears. We broke up so many months ago, and I didn't have feelings for him anymore. Where were the tears coming from? I guess I just missed him. I missed us. I missed having someone. Chanterelle, along with many other restaurants we ate at, will hold a special place in my heart. And I believe for the rest of my life, whenever I bite into a nice filet or a piece of cheese, I will think to myself, "Swimster would love this."

2 Harrison St., between Hudson & Greenwich Streets
212-966-6960

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Cookie Mon-ster

How to Throw a Roommate Cookie-baking Party

Step 1: Find a recipe that will work for everyone. We picked soft sugar cookies. To me, there's nothing better, especially when you plan on adding frosting.

Step 2: Agree on a night where you will all be home and feeling particularly giddy, a mood fitting to belting out Christmas carols as heard on the apartment's DirectTV "Seasonal Music" station.

Step 3: Buy ingredients. If your local grocery store has nothing but imitation vanilla extract (a travesty) climb up the shelves and dig, you are likely to find a lone pure extract bottle back there somewhere.

Step 4: Forget the rolling pin. Who needs one? If you drink alcohol you likely have a cocktail shaker somewhere in your kitchen. We have three. Rinsed clean and sprinkled with a little bit of flour, you will be good to go.



Step 5: Figure out what holiday cookie cutters you have and buy new ones accordingly. I thought I had Christmas cookie cutters. Turns out they are for Valentine's Day. Who says you can't have hearts every day of the year, along with cupids and doves? I think my red and green heart combo came out super.



Step 6: Copyright your Christmas cookie designs. We had some squabbles over designs. "That was my idea." "Don't copy me." "I started first." Yes, we are third graders. It was all very amusing.

Step 7: Make sure you use ample amount of food coloring for the frosting. Our first red and green-colored frosting looked something like Easter egg shades of green and pink.



Step 8: Pack away cookies in tupperware so the local Christmas mouse doesn't get in for a nibble.

Step 9: Eat several, drink milk, lick fingers.



Ingredients:

4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1 c butter, softened
1 1/2 c white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 c sour cream

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg. Set aside.

In a large bowl cream together (or mix with spoon and fork) the butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in the egg, vanilla and sour cream until well blended. Stir in the sifted ingredients. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and chill overnight.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to 1/4 inch in thickness. Cut into desired shapes with cookie cutters. Place cookies 1 1/2 inches apart onto ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow cookies to cool on baking sheet for 5 minutes before removing to wire rack to cool completely.

These cookies are amazing, and I didn't even have an electric mixer, which I was worried about. They are hands down the best cookies I have ever made. Correction. They are hands down the best cookies WE have ever made. Thanks FoxyLady for your help. And thanks LarchmontLass for your creativity. Your Frosty was a winner.

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