Friday, February 03, 2006
KitchenMaus: Hungry on the Streets of New York City
On a cold and rainy evening, Jayme met me in Times Square and we embarked upon a mini foodie journey. A recent and enthusiastic New Yorker, she was ready to indulge in a few small delights in the big city.
First we hit the Bodum store, which was bigger and more exciting than I had anticipated. A Bodum convert for years, I showed off their products to her and professed the greatness of their Mini Santos, to a degree to which may have been unbelievable to the average person. Jayme took my word for it, and I think also admired its modern flair.My reason for visiting the store, besides the obvious need to ogle and touch the Euro-centric award-winning products, was to purchase for my very own the Nissen acrylic salt and pepper grinders. The small, adorable size, of course. Sadly, I was thwarted in my full mission--they were out of the pepper grinder--though I did manage to console myself with the salt grinder. After a quick demo of and shot from the store's newest Jetsons-like espresso machine, we were off to our next destination: cheese.
Following a short cab ride, we entered into the hallowed and pungent walls of Murray's Cheese Shop. This was a foodie retreat I was not prepared for. You could actually look through windows at giant rounds of aging cheese! They turn these regularly through the final days of aging. We tasted several cheeses, and Jayme and the clerk assured me it would not be out of the question to try to transport some all the way back to Seattle. In fact, Jayme suggested that it might be manditory. After quite a few tastes and some extra time feigning indecision and requiring additional tasting, I settled on a Robiola and some Constant Bliss. The latter I bought without tasting, largely on my faith in the name. As it turned out later, the Robiola was my version of cheese bliss.
Fully cheesed out, we headed down the block to the Pearl Oyster Bar. Bustling, but not overwhelming, we sat in the window seat and enjoyed glasses of wine before being seated at the bar. Over several hours of good conversation, Jayme and I shared several plates of perfectly prepared shellfish. We started with a half dozen salty-sweet-plump Nova Scotia oysters. Next, a plate of salt-crusted shrimp. These shrimp arrived in their Sunday best--shells still on under their batters, ensuring a punch of juicy meat waiting to burst forth. Next came seared scallops on a bed of buttery parsnip-beet hash. For the first time in my life, I not only enjoyed beets, but found them somewhat intriguing, and in fact could not stop eating them. For dessert, we lingered over a creamy butterscotch praline parfait, topped with shards of burnt sugar.
During our dinner conversation, Jayme convinced me that I really ought to get to Jacques Torres Chocolate Haven, which had been on my short list for the trip. Not that I needed much convincing to make the effort, but she did point out that it was a necessary destination on the travels of an amateur chocolatier. I set out early the next morning for the shop, and after a short subway ride entered into a cloud of chocolate that in itself was worth the trip. Almost dizzy from the cocoa-scented haze, I chose a few items as gifts and then spent a good deal of time selecting the 25 chocolates that were put into a box as a gift to myself. Not ready to leave the chocolate's embrace, I settled down for a Wicked Mocha and a chocolate-almond-banana croissant. The croissant put every little American pastry to shame, with its crispy outside, flaky inside, and chunks of deep, dark chocolate. The mocha was instantly the best beverage ever to pass through my lips, and then minutes later almost unbearable in its goodness. Really, a cup of fondue with a shot of espresso, it takes a certain level of stamina and genetic blood sugar leveling to do right by it. Alas, it was too much for even me. But I will forever remember my seven sips of chocolate ecstasy.Labels: chocolate
