GASTRONORMOUS

Once, years ago, I decided to make cookies and fudge for all my coworkers and friends at Christmas. I thought people would appreciate a homemade gift, plus, I admit, I thought it would be cheaper (I was broke then) and easier than buying individual gifts for everyone.

I learned several important things during this experience: First, it turns out that buying all the butter, spices, sprinkles, etc. for many multiples of dozen of different types of cookies is expensive. It also took many more hours slaving away in the kitchen than I thought it would (and the clean up! Oy!). And perhaps most significantly, I found out I do not have a knack for baking, let alone fudge-making (after a failed attempt at making fudge on my own, I made and emergency appeal to my sister, who kindly helped me make another batch in her kitchen). After plating the cookies and fudge on festive holiday-themed paper plates, I wrapped them in plastic and finished it with ribbon, which I carefully curled. Transporting the cookies to work and friends proved to be a challenge, and indeed many of the cookies broke or were smooshed in the process. All in all, not what I would call a heartwarmingly successful attempt at spreading baked holiday cheer.

Never again have I even briefly considered distributing homemade confections at holiday time. Until now. Well, just maybe.

The inspiration for this rash reconsideration of oven-made gifting came from these paper loaf pans, which I think are pretty great for several reasons. First of all, you can bake right in them, which makes for much easier after-baking production line. I also love the fact that these aren’t slavishly Christmasy—they are not festooned with bright red and green Santas and reindeer, but instead a simple brown background is printed with a classy pattern in gold (a bonus–this design is also appropriate for non-gentiles). Instead of the raffia pictured here, I might use gold ribbon to make the presentation a bit merrier-looking. I will probably never mass-produce Christmas cookies again, but I can imagine myself stirring together a ginger-y, fruity, nutty, and/or pumpkin-y quick bread to give to friends or to present as a hostess gift.

A simple sweet quick bread certainly isn’t as time consuming to make as glittery snowman- and wreath-shaped cookies, but presented in this elegant packaging, it would be just as much a delight to behold, and just as appreciated by its recipient. Hark! Do I hear angels singing?

[$0.50 each at Sur La Table]

Hey folks, sorry for a lack of posts lately, which is due to lack of time and maybe lack of inspiration, though not lack of fodder. It is also partly due to the fact that I received a spiffy new camera as a birthday gift form the Hub, but have not yet read the instructions, and my attempts at creating fab food photos on my last night out was instead a fantastic failure!

That night out, by the way, was a meal at L’Asso, a brick oven pizza place, which serves pizza according to the rules of the DOC. L’asso has been one of my favorite pizza places in the city over the years. But last Friday it all just seemed a little mediocre (though maybe my pizza-loving taste buds were spoiled by the truly exceptional pizza I had at the Atlantic Antic).

We ordered an old standby of an appetizer, the fresh mozzarella and pistachios. Sounds weird, but in the past it has been delicious. It looked the same, with an entire ball of mozzarella, sectioned like an orange and scattered with roasted pistachios and drizzled with reduced balsamic, but just was just not as tasty as it has been in the past. We couldn’t put our finger on what was wrong, but it just wasn’t as milky, salty, fresh, and savory as usual.

We ordered one of the tartufo pizzas, with mascarpone, portobello mushrooms, truffle oil, and gorgonzola, and the Pizza Roma, which is topped with walnut pesto, mozzarella, rosemary, and walnuts. The former was really good, with just the right amount of truffle oil, which can be overwhelming if used in abundance, a chewy crust, and the right proportion of toppings. The Roma, however, bombed. It didn’t have a lot of flavor, except for the burnt flavor of the walnuts. It was a musty-tasting waste of good pizza dough.

All in all, this visit was a great disappointment, especially as we have had so many excellent meals there in the past. I wouldn’t say I won’t go there again, but it will be a while.

photo via lassonyc.com

L’Asso
192 Mott Street (at Kenmare)
212-219-2353

The night before L’Asso, I celebrated my birthday with The Hubs and some friends at Clover Club on Smith Street. I had been to this place before, too, but unlike L’Asso, this did not disappoint. I encouraged my friends to eat beforehand because the drinks here are expensive, and I didn’t want the bill to be too big. Well, I guess everyone was running as late as I was, because we all showed up hungry for food, as well as expertly mixed libations.

We ordered too many drinks to name them all, but they were all delicious (and I guess they had better be at prices approaching $15 a pop). I especially recommend the Bermuda Swizzle, which has a spicy, very unusual flavor, provided by exotic ingredients such as Velvet Falernum, which I had never heard of before visiting Clover Club, had you? Many of the cocktails utilize unusual ingredients, or sometimes ordinary ingredients are mixed in unusual ways, as with the El Diablo, which is silver tequila (check!), mixed with lemon (okay.), ginger (ginger?), and cassis (say what!?). But they all work.

We sampled a number of their small-plates style dishes, from the oyster po-boy, to the deviled eggs, to the pigs in a blanket (that’s what I said!), all were delicious. The stand out for me, though, was the beet crostini. I have seen this dish on many a small-plates Italian menu, but this was by far the best I have ever had. It started with a base of good, crusty, toasted bread brushed with a bit of olive oil, then topped with a thin schmear of goat cheese, a pile of brunoise‘d (thanks, Top Chef!) beets, thyme, and a dash of honey. I think that it was the ingenious inclusion of honey that pushed this dish over the top. We actually asked for a second order after the polished off the first—ok, and I ate most of it, but still, the fact is a testament to the scrumptiousness of the plate.

The service at Clover Club is friendly and attentive, and not at all snobby as they seem to be at many old-timey, club-chaired, serious-cocktail-lover cocktail lounges. The atmosphere is quite cozy, despite the soaring ceilings, with wood paneling, plush furniture, and even a little fireplace in the back. By the way, if you are over the age of 30, and/or not on the make, try to get a table in the back room, which is much quieter and more civilized. I whole-heartedly recommend Clover Club, especially for a special occassion, or when you are feeling swanky. It ain’t cheap, but it is a delightful experience all-around.

photo via metromix new york

Clover Club
210 Smith St
Brooklyn, NY 11201
718-855-7939

On Saturday we drove down to Sleepy Hollow and Tarry Town, leaf-peeping along the way–the views were beautiful despite the rain. We stopped for lunch in Tarrytown at Lefteris Gyro, right on the corner of Main St. and Route 9. We warmed ourselves up with some delicious soup and other comfort foods before heading over to Union Church of Pocantico Hills, a tiny church that unexpectedly features some amazing stained glass windows by Marc Chagall and a mod Rose window by Miro.  Later we headed over to the the Rockefeller Estate for a tour, which was terrific, and not just because our guide looked, sounded, and acted exactly like James Lipton. The resemblance was eerie. Well, actually more funny than eerie, but in any case it definitely added to the experience.

We then drove back up to Beacon to change clothes before heading farther upstate to New Paltz, where we had a really delicious meal at Beso. The restaurant came highly recommended by several people, so expectations were high, and it did not disappoint.

We arrived at precisely the time of our reservation at this duplex restaurant and were seated promptly. Their wine list was varied in region and price, with bottles ranging from $20 to $100. We ordered a bottle of the Earthworks Shiraz from Barossa, Australia. It was an ok bottle of wine. At first sip I liked it, but after a while I began to detect some unpleasant bitterness on the finish. But, it was one of the cheaper bottles at $27, so I shan’t have expected vini-perfection.

We started with an unusual take on the caramelized onion tart. The quite shallow puff-pastry shell was chock full of flavor: a layer of caramelized onions and beets, all topped with a brown and bubbling later of goat cheese. The beets added even more sweetness to that established by the caramelized onions. All this sweetness was well balanced by the buttery pastry, tart goat cheese, salty kalamata olives, and a reduced balsamic plate-garnish. I could overlook the overdressed greens that accompanied it, because the tart was spectacular.

This fantastic app was followed by a porcini-crusted filet minon special served with fried potatoes and asparagus. Pops-in-law pronounced it fantastic; perfectly medium-rare and flavorful. Moms-in-law didn’t have a huge appetite, so she went for butternut squash soup and a salad. The butternut squash soup was subtly scented with curry and tasted mellow and savory, not too sweet as many similar soups skew. I had the vegetarian shepherd’s pie, which was so much surprisingly better than its mashed potato-spinach-roasted-vegetables parts. It was by far the best entree I have had in months. So delicious. The Hubs had the artic char with brussel sprouts and roasted potatoes dressed in a dijon sauce, and it was excellent–perfectly cooked and perfectly dressed.

For dessert we all shared an apple bread pudding. It was very fall-appropriate and actually almost, to me, tasted more pumpkin-y than apple-y, which was odd but not objectionable. It was served with a scoop of delicious homemade cinnamon ice cream. It was so yummy that we ate a bunch of it before thinking taking the picture you see below.

Overall, it was a great meal with fine service, and if you ever find yourself leaf peeping in the Hudson Valley, I insist, you must stop at Beso.

The Hubs, his visiting parents, and I arrived in Beacon, NY a little later than we had expected, and by the time we set out on foot from the B&B for dinner, it was already nearing 9 pm. We headed over to Main Street, where we passed by a cozy little cafe called the Muddy Cup, which was filled with teenagers scowling out at us, which was amusing because I remember being a too-cool-to-be-this-bored teenager on Friday nights. So though I could almost hear them mutter, teeth clenched, “Peepers! Go home!” at us, I felt for them. On our walk up Main Street, I was surprised to see so many storefronts empty. Beacon is a really cute little town, and it would be nice to see more signs of prosperity there.

We ended up farther up Main Street at Amarcord, a little Italian (mostly Italian–they had a couple Asian things on their menu too, which was odd) restaurant that was fairly crowded for what I assumed was a late dinner hour in this sleepy little town. This, along with the fact that the restaurant is named after one of my favorite Fellini movies, was surely propitious. We waited briefly for a table in the back room, away from the loud bar.

The service was polite and attentive. We each ordered a drink. My glass of red was corked. Strongly so. Without question, bad. I asked the waitress for a different glass of wine, explaining this was corked. She said that that as funny, it was the last glass of the bottle and no one else complained (strange! I found it so strong! I was tempted to ask her to just smell the wine), but then she recommended another wine and took away the offending glass without question, which was nice.

The Hubs started out with an octopus salad—almost more of a tangy marinated octopus—which he enjoyed very much. That was the only starter at the table, besides the complementary bread and tasty  tapenade served. Two of us ordered the butternut squash agnolotti with brown butter sage and toasted pine nuts. I found it to be relatively lacking in flavor and overly buttery, but others liked it more than I did. But, it is clear by now that I am picky (op. cit. corked wine episode), so what can I say! The seared pork chop was served with apple sauce, walnut fennel sausage stuffing, and spinach. It was a hefty portion of both chop and sausage stuffing (which was unexpectedly in sliced-puck form) and pretty tasty. The special porcini mushroom ravioli was very salty and sort of a one-note porcini onslaught on the taste buds. It wasn’t the worst thing I have ever eaten, but I couldn’t eat much of it due to the incredibly intense musty-mushroomness of mushroom ravioli topped with a thick mushroom sauce. I didn’t include a photo of it here because it really didn’t make a pretty picture. Trust me on this one.

I think we all agreed that it wasn’t sock-knockingly good, especially for the prices, which I think were a little high for what it was. But it was a fine meal in a comfortable atmosphere, with good company, and a nice way to start our weekend.

Amarcord
276 Main Street
Beacon, NY  12508
(845) 440-0050

Tomorrow–more food in the Hudson Valley area, inclduing a great meal in New Paltz!

I kept talking about wanting to go to Habana Outpost, located in my Ft. Greene neighborhood, all summer long. But somehow, fall arrived and I still hadn’t been. Knowing the part-year eco-eatery must be closing soon, The Hubs and I decided to stop by for a late supper after a performance at BAM recently.

When the weather is warm, Habana Outpost is a big, outdoor, community party, with cheap food, drinks, and sometimes entertainment.  They are completely solar-powered, much of the restaurant is made of recycled and reclaimed materials, the cups, plates, and utensils are compostable, they collect and recycle rainwater, and they even have a bicycle-powered blender for smoothies ($1 off if you pedal)! In addition, they are dedicated to helping the community through their outreach organization, Habana Works. All around, a pretty cool place.

We weren’t sure whether it would be open, what with the cold weather we were experiencing that night, but they were, and the party had moved indoors. We placed our order inside and took it out to the kitchen truck, pictured here, and then went back inside to find a table. It was pretty crowded, though nothing like during the warm days of summer. A tiny table freed up quickly and we took it (there is no formal seating process, you just grab a table when one is vacated). While we waited for our food we sipped our margarita and “morita” (half margarita/half mojito), respectively. They are tastier than and not as weak as most frozen libations that come from a machine. (But, boy, I have to say I kept getting brain freeze! One was so bad and lasted so long that tears were streaming down my face at the end. I don’t know what about these drinks made that happen so much. I will do some vigorous Slurpee training in the days preceding my next visit).

The food was nothing fancy, but a total delight to eat. The avocado and queso blanco sandwich with veggies and chipotle mayo was simply constructed, but totally delicious. The guacamole, served in a tortilla shell (eco!), was a little under-salted, but was still tasty, with a very thick and chunky texture. The star was their muy delicioso corn, for which they are famous (in fact it is listed on the menu as “Famous Corn”). It is charred on the grill and slathered with mayonnaise, cheese, and red chile. Sounds weird, but it works. I wish we had ordered two! Unfortunately, I was not able to get photos of the food; it was extremely dark (turns out solar power works better during the day).

Habana Outpost the eatery is only open through October 31, so hurry up and get over there, already. In mid-November they will re-open with “drinks, music, dancing, you know, that kind of thing,” according to the guy in charge the night I was there. The celebrating will happen in both the ground level space and the new, basement party den. No word on whether the bicycle-blender will be in the works, but I am sure their head-splitting but yummy frozen drinks will be, so, I’ll see you there!

Habana Outpost
757 Fulton Street (corner of S. Portland)
Brooklyn, NY 11217
(718) 858-9500

My fiancée Tara and I had planned a wonderful fall outing Saturday before last. We would bike over to Prospect Park, and then head over to the 10th anniversary Target First Saturday party at the Brooklyn Museum.

On the way over to the park, our stomachs insisted we take a detour. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now nearing three o’clock. As I contemplated that eternal question, “Should I eat now and spoil my dinner?” Tara made an executive decision: we’d get some baguettes and soup for an impromptu picnic in the park.

As we closed in on Prospect Park, I scanned for options. There were some small bodegas that didn’t look like they would have the goods and some restaurants that mocked me with the smell of delicious—but slow—food. Luckily, when we hit 7th Ave and 13th street, I spotted our savior, Union Market.

Upon entering I was greeted with a gorgeous display of red ripe tomatoes, yellow corn and greens. A few steps further and I saw the most diverse offering of mushrooms I had ever seen in Brooklyn. Around the corner were dizzying towers of even more colorful and exotic food items.

I had clearly found a gourmand’s funhouse. I quickly lost Tara in the tight maze-like aisles of the market. Turning a right at a display of specialty oil, I found myself face to face with a trove of olives and other oil-cured delicacies, along with a cache of toothpicks. I am not an olive lover, but the sun-dried tomatoes beckoned. I speared one, popped it my mouth and was rewarded with a burst of intense sweetness. Yummy.

Union Market had more fantastic distractions from the task at hand. I next found mounds upon mounds of cheese, glorious cheese, which entranced me. A noise broke my reverie and I noticed the cheese monger, whistling to himself while cutting thick wedges from an enormous wheel of cheese. In front of the counter were samples of his wares: sharp parmesan slivers, and a creamy goat cheese spread on some fresh French bread. Before I knew it, cheese samples had also found their way into my mouth. I asked the man about the goat cheese. He helpfully stopped his work and retrieved a small package from the display.

“You like it? It’s on sale for $5.99.”

I thanked him, but declined the cheese; it wouldn’t last the hours before I returned home. Turning the corner, I found Tara plucking some gourmet potato chips out of a barrel.

“These are good,” she said as she fed me one.

We walked past a deli counter stocked with a tantalizing display of salads and prepared foods, and found two bubbling soup pots. I had my heart set on some clam chowder, but all they had was vegetable and chicken soups. Luckily, Union Market offers many non-soup, picnic-ready options. We decided upon some house made roasted red pepper hummus. I led Tara back through the maze, jostling customers and white-coated employees, in a quest to reach the fresh bread to go with it. Along the way, I was gracious enough to show Tara the samples she had missed.

We wanted the focaccia but felt it was too expensive for its size. So we grabbed a large round loaf of golden crusted bread and paid for our late-afternoon snack. Though at this point we almost didn’t need it–as we walked out of the store, I patted my sample-satisfied belly.

Though Union Market is a bit expensive for weekly trips to stock up on basic groceries, it is a great place to get gourmet items for special occasions at home or a picnic in the park. For those readers participating in the Brooklyn Making Strides walk this Sunday, which will be near this stretch of 7th Avenue, I encourage you to stop by and sample.

Note: Anyone interested in making donations to Making Strides and/or sponsoring my team, The Pink Crusaders, please visit pinkcrusaders.org or the team donation page. All donations go to the American Cancer Society, the nation’s largest source of private, nonprofit cancer research funds.

Union Market
402 7th Ave
Brooklyn, NY 11215
(718) 499-4026

Cake Man Raven is a store in my neighborhood that, more often than not, sells just one type of cake: red velvet. if you don’t like red velvet, you might as well walk on by. Their website actually lists several different cake flavors (and cookies, too), presumably for sale by special order, but when I asked the guy behind the counter at the shop if they ever were going to offer other flavors in the shop, he launched into a long-winded response ultimately saying that they have a hard time keeping red velvet in stock so they aren’t offering other flavors right now. That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, I mean, so you aren’t going to sell other flavors until the red velvet isn’t selling well? One flavor selling well doesn’t seem like it should preclude the sale of other flavors. I don’t have an MBA, and they have been in business for 8 years, so what do I know, maybe this makes business sense. I admit these complaints are self-serving—I am just desperate to try their other flavors after tasting the great red velvet.

In any case, the Hubs and I visited the shop and got a slice to go (they also offered cupcakes, but the frosting-to-cake ratio appeared higher in the slice, so we naturally went that direction). The slice was huge–more than enough for two. It was really decadent and delicious. The cake wasn’t terribly chocolately (red velvet is supposed to be chocolate, right?), but it almost didn’t matter because the frosting was the star. It was a fluffy, rich, slightly cream-cheesey frosting. It was truly spectacular. It didn’t have that weird artificial, mouth-coating, Crisco-ish texture that many frostings suffer from. the sweetness is cut a bit by the nuts, and also, ingeniously, the cake itself. You see, if you took a bite of cake on it’s own, sans frosting, it was a bit on the salty side, in a not unpleasant way. The cake had great texture, and wasn’t oily like some other red velvet cakes I have had, but really sings when combined with the frosting.

Overall, the cake was a winner. I just hope some day Cake Man Raven decides to grace the public with other flavors. Soon.

708-a Fulton St.
Brooklyn New York 11217
(718) 694-2253

Last weekend we had dinner at Epoca, an Italian joint in our neighborhood that we had never been to before for no reason in particular. Based on that dining experience, I rue that we took so long to visit it, especially as it is superior to the other nearby Italian restaurants. It was a funky place with good service, delicious food, and a wacky owner to boot!

The delicious caprese salad (left) is conceived with a slight twist: the fresh mozzarella is smoked, and there is a sprinkling of dried oregano, and smoked paprika around the edge of the plate, along with the fresh basil. These departures from tradition provided a nice earthy edge to the bright tomatoes and seemed appropriate to the newly autumnal weather.

The spinach-ricotta ravioli (below) with a butter and sage sauce was another winner. The pasta was homemade and cooked al dente. The filling was fluffy and flavorful. I would have preferred a butter sauce that was less thick and creamy–this was almost like an oily cream sauce–a thinner sauce would allow the butter flavor to sing. But still, I can’t say we didn’t gobble the whole plate up!

In addition to the traditional Italian fare, Epoca also offers grilled specialties–from beef to mozzarella–served with a choice of a sauce and two sides. We had the calamari steaks, which on the plate resembled little legless calamari bodies, but were in fact actual large steaks that had been rolled and grilled. Frankly, not the most attractive dish, but it was delicious. The calamari was perfectly cooked, not at all tough as it can be if not cooked for the precisely correct amount of time. We chose the red wine sauce, which was good, though perhaps not the best choice to go with the calamari (for the record, the waiter had recommended the mint-lime sauce for this dish, but the Hubs doesn’t like mint in savory dishes–a fact I didn’t know until that moment. In addition to a good meal, our marriage grew through communication! Thanks, Epoca!). The sides of a salad and mashed potatoes were, due to their nature, nothing spectacular, but plenty good.

The wait service was pleasant and unobtrusive. Bread was brought, water was re-filled. We had a bottle of dry Lambrusco, and glasses were filled often enough, but not too often. (And by the way, I had never had this particular Lambrusco before and it was delicious. Look out for Toccacielo, Carafoli 2007 on your next visit to the wine store).

This wasn’t exactly part of the service, but the afore-mentioned wacky owner (I presumed him to be the owner, he was very proprietary) walked by once when I was quietly taking a close-up of my food and said, “Oh take a macro! I love macro!!” Later when I was struggling to take pictures of our entrees sans flash (so as not to disturb fellow diners), he appeared with a flashlight to shine over our table so that I could get good shots. I sort of appreciated it because I was able to get better pictures because of it, but also I was a little mortified because I was the entertainment in the restaurant for about 20 seconds. When I take photos at restaurants, I try to do it surreptitiously. I don’t like to call attention to myself or inconvenience other diners, and I can say that both of these things probably happened in that instance. But, it was entertaining anyway, and the owner was very gregarious and sweet about it. But next time, I think I’ll ask for a table in the farthest corner of the restaurant.

Epoca Ristorante
773 Fulton St
Brooklyn, NY 11217
(718) 596-9070

As I exited my lower Manhattan office building and crossed the street to Zucotti Park, a whistle from the World Trade Center construction site keened. It was lunchtime. A rumble in my belly, along with an advancing army of hardhats and suits in search of sustenance, told me I’d better plan my lunch strategy quickly.

However, looking at the wall of colorful food carts that lined the far end of the park, I was unexpectedly flummoxed. I had never eaten in the park before and had no clue what was good. I did a quick scan. There were a bunch of Halal carts offering chicken and gyro platters, a few fruit vendors, a farm stand selling pies and bread, and another cart obscured by a line of at least twenty people. I peered past the line to the sign on the cart which read “Sam’s Falafel.” A spicy aroma wafted by, triggering a reflexive “mmmmm.” I quickly ran to the back of the growing line that snaked through the park.

Sharp-looking office workers, camera-toting tourists, and massive construction workers waited on line patiently. I, on the other hand, with my stomach growling and my lunch break ticking away, fidgeted and surveyed the other stalls. None of them had a line like this. Others were getting their food quickly and happily devouring it within my sight.

“Why is this line so long?” I asked the guy in front of me.

“Sam’s is the best falafel.” he said matter-of-factly.

I waited two minutes more and looked ahead. There were still at least fifteen people before me. With my senses swimming in heady falafel smoke, I bailed on pita-wrapped chickpea nirvana and ran like a madman across Broadway to some more carts clustered around Noguchi’s red cube.

Once again, there were a bunch of carts but only one with an enormous line. I approached a man on the line. “Can you get good falafel here?”

The man shook his head, “No my friend, this one is good for chicken. That is where you get the best falafel.” My eyes followed his outstretched arm to a cart with a line only about five deep, Alan’s Falafel. I gave my thanks, joined the line and soon a man whom I assumed was Alan poked his head out of the cart and asked for my order.

“Hey, I heard you had the best falafel.”

Alan beamed, “You better believe it. Seventeen years around here.”

I ordered a falafel sandwich with everything. Alan smiled as he worked, proudly showing me each item as he tossed it in the pita: hummus, baba ghanoush, tzatski, ripe tomato, a big juicy hot pepper, hot sauce, and of course lots of plump falafel patties.

He wrapped it in foil and put it in a brown bag along with a crispy homemade pita chip. “You’re gonna to be back,” he said with a wink as I handed him three dollars.

I walked back to the park, plopped down and hauled out my sandwich. It was colossal. I unwrapped it and breathed in all the falafel goodness. The falafel was pungent and crispy with the perfect amount of herbs and heat. The fresh pepper exploded. The tomatoes were sweet. The hummus was savory. The smoky baba ghanoush, which featured big chunks of eggplant rather than the familiar mush, was a delicious addition.

I looked over at the long line for Sam’s Falafel and noticed that the people were staring jealously at me. “Alan’s,” I said and dreamily took another bite.

I went to Santa Fe weekend before last for a family reunion (The Hubs family) and also to celebrate our wedding anniversary. Santa Fe is a truly special place (it is The City Different, as they say), and if you haven’t been, I highly recommend you add a new folder to your “places to visit” file.

We happened to be there for the annual Fiesta, which started out with the burning of Zozobra, or Old Man Gloom. The ol’ sourpuss is pictured here, pre- (left) and during-burning (below).

The next morning, unburdened of all the accumulated gloom of the last year (of which, for me, happily there wasn’t much!), we went down to the historic Plaza where there were all sorts of food and craft booths set up. We ate lunch at a restaurant that is popular with local and tourists alike, The Shed. If you want to make like a local, ask for a fried egg on top of your enchiladas. I swear you will impress the waiter with your Santa Fe savoir faire. Unlike the other New Mexican restaurants around town, the shed serves garlic bread with every meal (in place of sopaipillas), which is great for sopping up their delicious red chile sauce (which is also available for purchase there for $7.95 for a 16 oz. jar).

You don’t need me to tell you that Santa Fe has a lot going for it, but the many muy delicioso New Mexican food restaurants might just be what I appreciate the most! I have bemoaned the lack of good Mexican food in New York before. One of my chief complaints is that not many places here get enchilada sauce right. Most places in NYC put a bright red tomato sauce on enchiladas, which, I dunno, may be authentic in some part of Central or South America, but every enchilada I ever had growing up in California is red- or green-chile-based (or maybe tomatillo). The same goes doubly in New Mexico, where people take their chile seriously, and the sauce goes on almost everything, not just enchiladas.

I have never had a bad chile in Santa Fe. I like a really hot chile, and if you do too, then I would recommend to you Guadalupe Cafe or Maria’s New Mexican Kitchen, which are two of my favorite restaurants there (though I hasten to add that there are so many places that I, a relative new comer to Santa Fe, have not yet tried). Their chile is not for the faint of heart, but their food is delicious.

In between reunion activities, we made it back down to the Plaza for the children and pet parade, which was totally hysterical. Afterward, we grabbed some food and beverages from some of the food stands. The Hubs and I shared a Navajo taco that was just okay. It didn’t have much flavor and isn’t worthy of much discussion or a photo here. I had a yummy papaya agua fresca, though, and The Hubs had a young coconut juice served en coque, and presented with this awesome parrot and pom-pom straw. Much to my disappointment, the Hubs “accidentally” tore the frou off the straw soon after I took the picture. He described the drink as “pungent” which I took to connote badness, but after I tasted it I knew what he meant. It was the most intensely coconuty coconut-flavored anything I have ever had. More coconuty than coconut. It is hard to explain. But try one some time.

The trip to Santa Fe was too short and I left, as I always do, longing to return. And this time, with a renewed and vigorous desire to move there. Some day!