Birthday Burgers

To me, nothing screams 'Summer' quite like a barbecue. Cold beers, good friends, something tasty sizzling on the grill - it's a perfect evening. To make up for the blogging drought (thank you, my all-absorbing career) I've selected an especially successful recipe.

For my birthday last month, a friend and I hosted a joint barbecue party with a few friends and a boatload of food. The following recipe details what I found was the most popular item on the grill:

(A quick word about the proportions - I made enough for 30 people so any photograph will show far more of everything than the recipe suggests.)


Southwest Burgers
Total prep and cooking time: 3 hours + refrigeration.
Makes 12-15 burger patties

1 Red onion, coarsely diced
2 Jalapeño peppers, sliced fairly thin
2 Heads garlic, whole
3 lb beef mince
3 eggs
1 cup packaged breadcrumbs or 2 cups fresh
2 T + 6T Soy Sauce
2 T + 6T Balsamic Vinegar
5 T Light olive oil
3 T Worcestershire Sauce
1 T Freshly ground black pepper


For the Vegetable Base:
(1 hour)
Preheat the oven to 400F. Set the garlic on a baking tray and pour 1 T of olive oil over each head. Put the garlic in the oven for 35 minutes or until the skins turn golden. Saute the onions in 2T olive oil over medium-high heat until they begin to brown, then douse them in 2 T soy sauce and let them soak up all the flavor. Move the onion to a medium-sized bowl as soon as the pan is dry.
Saute the jalapeños over high heat for 2 minutes, then douse them in 2 T balsamic vinegar. Add the jalapeños to the onion, then squeeze the roasted garlic on top. Mix these three into a rough paste using a wooden spoon or a fork (see photo at right.)


For the Meat:
(1/2 hour)
In a large bowl, combine the hamburger meat with Worcester Sauce, soy sauce and black pepper to taste. The ratios listed above are good guidelines. Mix these around with a wooden spoon or by hand, if you're up for it. Combine the meat with the vegetable paste and mix thoroughly. Let these sit covered in the fridge for as long as you can, up to a day ideally. I prepared mine the evening before and 20 hours or so later the meat had taken on a warm, sweet, tangy smell which made me consider going instead for steak tartar. Briefly.


For the Patties:
(45 min)
About an hour before cooking time, take the meat mixture out and add the eggs one at a time, mixing them in with some breadcrumbs until all the eggs and crumbs have been added. This can be quite tiring, so separating the mixture into two or three batches can be helpful.
Grab an appropriate handful of the burger mix and fashion it into a patty of whatever size and thickness you wish. If you like your burgers on the rarer side, thicker may be better. Store the completed patties on a tray covered in wax paper, stacking them if need be on another layer of wax paper.


Cooking:
(30-45 min)
I dare not intrude on anyone's grilling style, so I'll keep this to a few tips:
Clean the grill thoroughly before cooking, and brush a little olive oil over the grill to prevent sticking and to get those strong black lines your guests will love.
Make sure the fire has died down to smoldering coals before cooking for a more even and controllable temperaure.
Leave an area of the grill free from coals so that burgers that cook faster can be moved and kept warm without burning.
Flip the burgers with a sturdy, long-handled spatula to avoid burns, and to avoid casualties always pick the burger up by sliding underneath it parallel to the grill.
Fire-toasted rolls add a crisp, authentic element to the burger.
Have plently of toppings on hand - lettuce, tomato and relish are always popular, but try delicious alternatives like guacamole, hot sauce, fresh onion or cucumber.


Have a fantastic Summer and let me know how your barbecues go!

Something New for Passover

This posting goes out to a friend sick of matzah. Since we have precisely two nights of Pesach remaining, it goes out in a hurry. Madame Politics, this one's for you.

Perhaps those who attended two seders this Pesach can identify with me. I ate the exact same (although admittedly delicious) meal both nights, even though I ate at different homes. This is mystifying. I saw nothing in the Haggadah that the Shulchan Orech had to be laid out with the familiar regularity of the seder. It becomes like counting the ten plagues, a bite of food for each meal we remember from the year before and the year before that: 1)Matzah ball soup, 2)Chopped Herring, 3)Brisket, 4)Chicken...

It's familiar, it's expected and it's slightly boring. Many people dread Pesach for the matzah, but I believe that we are so locked into believing our food choices are severely limited that we neglect to see with fresh eyes the wide range of possibilities. And I'm not talking about things to do with matzah - my mother has a Canadian cookbook called Matzah 101 which contains, you guessed it, 101 variations on achieving constipation - and having looked through it I decided that the established mindset requires some major tweaking.

To that end, this recipe is a start. It is easy, fun and unexpected, and kosher for Passover. It has also only been made once, and I didn't make notes nor measure how much of each ingredient I put in so it may require a little ironing out. No matter. As with any recipe I or anyone else proposes, taste and adjust. And let me know how!

Roasted Vegetables with Hot Honey Sauce
Serves 18 as a side dish

6 Bell Peppers, ranging from red to yellow
2 Medium Eggplants
2 Large Green Chili Peppers, like Anaheim or Poblano
1-2 Medium Red Chili Peppers, like New Mexico or Serrano.
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup honey
1 T Balsamic Vinegar
1 lime, for juice
1 t Salt

Preheat the oven to 400 F. Set aside 1/3 cup oil and rub the vegetables with the remainder. Puncture the eggplants liberally with a fork. When the oven is ready, put the eggplants in on an oven-proof dish. After 20 minutes, add all the peppers to the same dish. Remove after 15-20 minutes. The eggplant should have imploded a bit and the peppers should be sweating and slightly charred. Turn the oven down to 200 F to keep the dish warm until it's ready to serve.

Slice the chilies thickly from the tail up. Make sure you remove all the seeds, since they are the primary source of the heat. Keep these separate and add them to the sauce only if you want more spice. With a blender, mix the oil, honey and salt thoroughly. Add the chilies, vinegar and half the lime juice and blend briefly so that the chili colors are retained. Taste and add a little of something, if needed.

When cool enough to work with, slice the bell peppers in half and remove their seeds. Slice them into strips about 1/4 inch thick, keeping each color separate for a better presentation. Do the same with the eggplants. Arrange the vegetables on a platter as you desire. I had three colors of pepper and separated each color section with slices of eggplant. In the center I put a bowl containing the sauce. My apologies for the lack of photo.

Be sure to warn your guests if the sauce is hot!

Atlantic Grill

Every young and underpaid food-lover relishes a parent or similarly benevolent relative visiting from out of town, simply because it means all those restaurants you've walked by with a deep, heart-felt longing can be indulged in guilt-free. Of course, there are other, more important reasons. But let's focus on this one.

It was my sister, not I, who had her heart set on Atlantic Grill. She has good taste. As soon as I stepped into the seafood restaurant I found reason to not complain about the trek to the Upper East Side. The interior is inviting and warmly lit. One walks off the street right into the belly of the beast, as it were. It is not the host who immediately greets you, but the marble-topped bar to your left and a few cocktail tables to your right.

The main dining area is partially concealed from the entrance and wraps around a corner, which means that the room is made out to be far more intimate than it truly is. This visual trickery is continued in the dining room by thin metal columns that puncture and partition the space, although I imagine their purpose is more structural than aesthetic. It doesn't quite work though, and the dining room feels more like a banquet hall than a New York restaurant. Perhaps that was the idea, but I felt it was too large a space for an intimate meal.

Of course, the real culprit for that may have been our party of 4 in a booth for 8. I spent the meal treading foam and upholstery on the on the far side of the booth, leaning over our massive table and trying to catch the conversation against the jingly din of the rich masticating.

We went on a Sunday evening, which on the Upper East appears to be the time to take the fur and jewels and new face out for a walk. Or perhaps that's every night. Judging by the initial snoot of our waiter, Chris, it would seem he has had to acclimatize to his gilded habitat. But he proved to be an agreeable and wholly competent server once he discovered his table possessed neither airs nor a lack of humor.

Someone at Atlantic Grill has his or her Japanese lingo down pat. We began the festivities with three shared maki rolls. Maki, I found out, means 'rolled sushi.' Which made me wonder why I couldn't recall seeing it used anywhere else. Then I remembered. In grocery stores, the Indian meal 'Palak Paneer' becomes Kashmir Spinach. We tend to like our food Americanized and 'sushi' as a general label for sashimi, maki and, why not, all Japanese food is much simpler, even if it isn't true.


While AG willingly donned the yoke of Japanese linguistics, it seems to have bucked a few traditions in the maki themselves. While delicious and wonderfully distinctive, each had one or two twists on the usual fare. The nearest in the photograph is the Yellowtail-Jalapeno Roll. This had fresh, perfectly ripe avocado in it and was wrapped not in nori - seaweed paper - but in soy paper, which has a chewier texture and a more mild flavor. The jalapeno did not overpower the yellowtail but rather drew out its subtle flavors.

The next roll is the Spicy Tuna Roll, which is ubiquitous on any menu and done exceptionally well here. For once it was genuinely spicy, and the spiciness wasn't there just to disguise the age of the fish. The tuna had the firm yet submissive texture of a fresh, quality catch. Flanked by its two plated companions, those embellished rebels, the roll came across as simple, traditional and elegant, which I've never found it to be before.

The third maki roll was a special that night, and good enough for a reorder as a small main course. It was a somewhat more traditional riff on the Philadelphia roll. Instead of being smoked, the salmon was deep fried as tempura - in an egg and rice flour batter - and rolled with avocado and cream cheese in the same soy paper. I wasn't convinced that the salmon was better cooked through and served still warm, but the combined flavor was excellent and each ingredient did justice to the other.



With excellent timing, Chris brought round the main courses. Preferring to walk the gourmet and not the gourmand line, we shared two mains and the aforementioned appetizer between us. My sister had selected a special and I a menu staple. Hers was a grilled cut of wild striped bass served over risotto in a port wine reduction sauce. It was moist on the inside, crisp on the out and had a thread of full bass flavor running through it. The risotto rounded the fish off nicely and perked it up a bit too.



My entree, the Nori Wrapped Big Eye Tuna, was consumed first with the eyes, which send urgent signals to the stomach that something simply must be done about this gorgeous ensemble before them. Atop stir-fried bok choi and succulent mushrooms in a soy-wasabi vinaigrette, three tantalizing and slightly mysterious rings of red to brown lounged invitingly. At their cores was the deep red of rare tuna, melting out into thin rings of cooked white, then black, then crispy brown. The honesty of the tuna, grain laid bare and color true, held a playful juxtaposition to the deep-fried breadcrumb-encrusted nori that enwrapped it. It took a number of bites to place the unexpected crunch and juice of the crumbs, but the texture contrast was very welcome. There was a surprisingly large amount of fish in the dish, and I was quickly filled by the thick cuts. Despite the excellent pairing of tuna and vegetables, and in spite of the vaguely humorous pyramid of sushi rice immaculately formed on one side, the wrapped tuna did not hold my interest all the way through. It hit the right notes very well, but continued to hold them for too long and without any variation in the theme. Each slice was identical to the prior and just too dense. I enjoy eating tuna, but in order to fully celebrate this dish I would have to LOVE eating tuna.

When the choice came, we had to try dessert, and it had to be shared. There was simply no option. Good thing. From a delectable array we selected the Molten Chocolate Cake. It was molten. It was chocolate. It was cake. And that, I believe, should really be enough to satisfy even the most discerning pallate. The ice cream dollop was phenomenally creamy, rich and fresh. Its malt crunch flavor was understated and well paired with the cake. Presentation, especially with the bittersweet chocolate cigar, walked the same line between humorous and elegant as the Tuna, but it worked and we all oohed as Chris brought it down. The syrup was a refreshing mint, a classic chocolate combination which did no wrong here. And all in all, Atlantic Grill didn't do much wrong by me either.

Maki rolls: $9 - $11
Striped Bass: $27
Nori Wrapped Big Eye Tuna: $25
Molten Chocolate Cake: $8

Atlantic Grill is at 1341 3rd Avenue in NYC
212-988-9200

Providence, Part II: Homemade is Better

My Providential friend is an equally aspiring gourmet, or at least, she loves food as much as I do but doesn't quite have the gall to call herself by such a pretentious word. So we decided that since we were smarting in the wallet from having dropped an arguably well-spent heap of cash on the previous night's dinner (she argued it was, I wasn't so sure,) yet were not content with merely purging the fridge of a half-dozen onion rolls, Sunday supper would have to be a home-cooked extravaganza. So it was off to Whole Foods, that temple of self-righteous healthfulness. (If I come off as cynical, I attribute it to an excellent article in Time Magazine on the debate of organic vs. local produce, in which Whole Foods did not appear in its favored role as the foremost bastion of global health.)

The store was well-stocked, clean and inviting. We entered without any notion of what we wished to cook and had to flirt with the produce - a glance here, a brushing or a squeeze there - to find what we were looking for. Turned out we were hungry for vaguely-Asian style. Which is good. I like vaguely-Asian.

We bought ingredients for three recipes that we concocted in the store and on the walk home: Pan-Fried Jalapeno-Ginger Trout, Asian Vegetable Stir Fry with Rice Noodles and Roasted Sesame Eggplant. All were mighty tasty and very easy to make. If you're playing the home game, here they are in order of preparation and portioned for 2:

Roasted Sesame Eggplant.

• 1 medium eggplant.
• 2 T extra virgin olive oil
• 1/4 cup roasted peanuts, chopped
  
• 2 t sambal oelek or other chili sauce
  
• 2 T toasted sesame oil

Preheat the oven to 400 F. Brush or rub olive oil over the eggplant and place on a shallow baking tray or ovenproof dish that will collect any juices. Pierce the eggplant liberally with a fork to avoid explosions. When the oven is ready, put the eggplant in for 30-40 minutes, or until it it collapses a little when you press it, as shown at right. Allow to cool for 10 minutes. Slice it open and sprinkle sambal oelek and peanut pieces over both halves, then splash the toasted sesame oil over the top. Serve while hot!

Asian Vegetable Stir Fry with Rice Noodles

• 7 oz. rice noodles
• 3 shallots
• 2 T light olive oil
  
• 1/2 cup fresh or canned water chestnuts, sliced thick
• 1/2 cup fresh or canned bamboo shoots, sliced
  
• 3 T soy sauce
  
• 1 bunch spring onions, chopped into thick rings
  
• 3 T rice vinegar
  
• 10 large basil leaves or 20 small, each pulled into four pieces.

Cook rice noodles according to directions on box and drain once cooked. Slice shallots fairly thin and saute in a pan with olive oil over medium-high heat until they start to brown. Add water chestnuts and bamboo shoots and heat through. Pour in soy sauce and allow to reduce while mixing ingredients around. Throw in the spring onions and heat through, as shown at right. Add cooked noodles and mix around with rice vinegar. When noodles are warm, turn off the heat and add the basil. Cover until ready to serve.


Pan-Fried Jalapeno-Ginger Trout

2/3 lb Trout fillet of any variety or another flavorful, thin fish.
2 t sea salt
1 T black pepper, freshly ground
4 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced.
1/2 inch section of ginger, finely chopped.
1 1/2 jalapenos, 1 finely chopped, 1/2 thinly sliced. (Use less for less heat.)
2 T light olive oil or butter
2 T soy sauce
1 lemon, for juice

Clean the trout and pat dry with paper towels. Rub with sea salt and pepper. Mix the sliced garlic with the chopped ginger and jalapeno. Heat the oil in a skillet or pan over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, but not burning, add the garlic mixture and chase it around the pan until the garlic just starts to brown, about 20 seconds. Carefully place the fish fillets skin side up on top of the mixture and cook until it begins to get white, about 3 minutes. Flip the fillets onto the skin side and cook a further 3 minutes or so, until it's to your liking. Check for the desired color by gently flaking each fillet in its thickest part. It should be an opaque, solid white.

If you time everything just right, the eggplant should be into its 10th minute of cooling just as you finish the fish. If not, keep everything finished warm either in the oven (turned off and slightly open) or over low heat.

I plated the trout upon the stir fry, garnished it with the thin jalapeno rings and a squeeze of lemon, and flanked it with the eggplant and a green baby spinach salad. Everything worked well together and made for a memorable meal for both of us. Try it for yourself and leave a comment!

Providence, Part I: Agony and Ecstasy.

For the long President's Day weekend, I made my way up to Providence, Rhode Island, to visit a close friend. It was my first time really exploring the city, and I found it quite charming and friendly - a decidedly relaxing atmosphere after months in New York. My friend and I had planned to eat at Rhode Island's top-rated restaurant, Al Forno, on the Saturday night of my visit. So with two more friends in tow, we took the advice of the very polite host on the phone who assured us we would have a short wait - an hour at most - and set out for an early 6PM dinner, hoping to beat the crowds. The crowds, instead, beat us. Upon arrival, we were told to expect a three hour wait.

We later found out there was some sort of football game that weekend, which, coupled with the long weekend revelries, caused a storm surge of a crowd that crashed over culinary Providence and washed away any available tables. We spent the next three and a bit hours mostly standing at the upstairs bar, talking over our grumbling stomachs and the voices of the massive crowd that had washed in.

Needless to say, I had time to explore the restaurant thoroughly, inside and out. It is actually quite lovely. There are several seating areas upstairs and down, both with their own take on a comfortable, relaxed Italian dining style and reminiscent of many neighborhood restaurants I have visited in Italy. It is these restaurants, in fact, that awoke in me the eager gourmet, and the connection did arouse some nostalgia. To complement these references, the owners have decorated with a refined personal taste that hints at their fine arts backgrounds - interesting lighting fixtures and wall treatments - and makes the image of the restaurant their own.

From the outside, the restaurant is homely and inviting. Its warm brick facade is covered to the second floor in a lush green ivy, and from the ubiquitous and unfortunate parking lot that the building opens into one can look through large windows and view families and friends laughing, eating and drinking at their tables. This romantic scene is enhanced by white christmas lights strung on the trees outside and by individual lamps at the upstairs tables that draw the eye up and flatter the faces upon which they shed light.

To pass the wait, a short nighttime walk along the waterfront proved equally romantic. Across the river is an old factory that is given a new life in the evening, ablaze with orange light that reflects off of the icy river.

When a seat eventually opened up at the bar around hour two we beat back all comers and ordered as a shared hors-d'oeuvre what we had time to peruse several times on the menu - the famous Grilled Pizza Margarita from the 'wood-burning oven' that gives the restaurant its name (from the oven.) By that point, in fact, I believe we had all selected of what the entire meal would consist, which sadly came back to haunt me later. But back to the pizza.

The pizza arrived in a timely fashion, beautifully presented and with a very fresh yet subtle aroma. Perhaps my hunger commanded me to bypass taste and go for straight for ingestion, but I found little to savor in the pizza. The bread was crisp and slightly chewy, yet without the pungent wood-fire character I had anticipated. The sauce was very light, almost watery, and while I could taste it was made from fresh tomatoes, I felt the chefs hadn't allowed it to reduce enough to concentrate the flavor. The mozzarella was standard fare and added little, not even some badly needed salt to perk things up. The herbs managed to taste indistinguishable. Their unusual flavor had us all guessing since in the dim bar light they appeared only as a vague green. It wasn't until later, reviewing the photograph at right, that I was able to work out that they consisted of chopped basil and shaved spring onions. In my opinion the pizza was a miss. And for $19, it was a mighty pricey miss of a pizza, especially since I had to cut the damn thing into pieces on an elbow-to-elbow bar top with a blunt knife.

Hour three, the predicted hour of our seating, came and passed. Fifteen minutes later, we were escorted to our table downstairs. Elation ensued.

We were seated and briefly greeted. Our waitress was not unfriendly and not unhelpful; she just had to be prodded in the general direction of hospitality. Granted, I was severely hungry, which might have distorted my perception of her. But all was lost when she informed me the kitchen was out of salmon, the dish I had chosen over three hours earlier and for which I had been steadily forming a terribly clear taste in my mouth. This left very few options for my kosher palate. There was the plain but assumedly well-made tomato pesto pasta, a menu veteran at Al Forno and a simple dish that can be exceptionally satisfying. Or there was the grilled and roasted vegetable platter with seasonal veggies and mashed potatoes. This had the general aura of satisfaction, but if I am to eat at the very best restaurant in all of Rhode Island I am not getting the blasted vegetable platter, fire-grilled or no. So pasta it was, which was an unfortunately large compromise. My friends, free of kosher constraints and late-term menu withdrawals, ordered their first choices. For the table we chose a medium-priced Pinot Grigio from Alsace after our first choice was unavailable, a distressing theme to the evening.

We were nicely into the second bread basket, savoring the quality of the olive oil (not so much the bread itself), when our main courses arrived. Good presentation, the expected stalwart of those with fine arts backgrounds, proved a mixed bag. The duck dish looked delicious. Darker thigh meat with skin attached was perched on some sort of a grain vegetable and accompanied by a green salad, pearl onions and polenta in the inexplicable shape and color of a stick of butter.

The grilled chicken breast dish was parted over a different vegetable, and looked rather like a grilled chicken breast. No signs of sauce nor source of flavor, just a clean, honest presentation. The baked pasta dish - four cheeses and prosciutto - came in a dark ovenproof dish with a little parmigiana and the same shaved spring onion garnish. It reminded me of frozen macaroni that had been baked a little too long, though I dared not say anything.

Then there was my dish. I got precisely what I had ordered. Pasta mixed with tomato pesto. No imagination, no presentation, just some shavings of admittedly good Parmigiana and some chopped basil on top. The penne pasta was somewhere in the near reaches of beyond al dente, which in a dish this simple is somewhat sinful, since this one ingredient accounts for the majority of all texture and flavour. The pesto sauce made no statements; no one ingredient asserted itself beyond the pale acidity of the tomato. Halfway through, I was bored. Keeping this mostly to myself, I polled the table. The duck was juicy, tender, and its eater liked that it was a darker cut. The chicken was tasty and expertly grilled, but not mind-blowing.

The baked pasta, I was told, was excellent. Once I got past the presentation, or lack thereof, I had to admit that the mix of cheeses smelled and looked divine. My friend enjoyed herself immensely, but the dish was so rich that she could not finish. Already she was excited about lunch the next day.

One unique thing about Al Forno is that you are required to order any dessert you may want to have together with the main course. This is simply because each offering takes that long to cook. Al Forno's pastry chef makes each dessert to order and allows it to bake while you eat your main course. This is clever since I imagine people are more likely to order too much food than too little, especially if they've been waiting for three hours. But the dessert we ordered does not deserve such cynicism. It was simply superb.

It arrived, this magnificent morsel, hot out the oven and wafting pear, pastry and rich deliciousness. Suddenly, we were all hungry again. From a pool of creme anglaise, this otherworldly thing stared up at us wantonly and demanded: "Eat me." It was one of the most phenomenal desserts I have ever had. It was a perfect balance of textures - the soft, warm smoothness of the ground, roasted pear; the flaky, melt-in your mouth, buttery crunch of the pastry crust; the cool, delicate, rich velvet of an excellent creme anglaise. We spoke in moans for a precious few minutes.

This final course was so good, it almost made up for the rest of the evening. We wandered home in a pear afterglow, contemplating the evening. Al Forno, I decided, is an above-average Italian restaurant with an exceptional pastry chef. Next time I visit Providence I am curious to give it another whirl and see if we just went on a bad night - if its list of accolades from several years ago are still relevant. But in all likelihood, I'll just pop in for dessert.

Dinner Out

While I love to cook, there is so much variety to be found in New York City that to limit myself to what I know and can invent seems absurd, if slightly more frugal. So I've been venturing out into the exciting culinary worlds of the city and come up with some new favorites. Tonight I found another.

I met a friend at a tiny place called Westville just off Christopher street. It was frigid outside, and despite the best efforts of a door and a nifty if unnavigable double curtain system it remained drafty throughout the meal, even at the back where I was sitting, practically beneath the coat rack. But the food made this almost easy to overlook. The specials menu is extensive and very appetising - the regular menu seemed almost unnecessary beside all its offerings. And to go with any dish is a great selection of fresh seasonal vegetables. I was in a fish mood, and there were several scrumptious-sounding dishes to choose from. With help from the perky, helpful waitress, I settled on the pan-fried flounder. As she promised, it made me happy. It was served on a bed of asparagus, which were quite excellent with the charred, rounded flavor of a fire grill. Crispy slivers of fried onions sat atop the fish, and beside it were soft slices of red potato which had been par cooked then sauteed in a tad too much olive oil with some salt and pepper. The fish itself was good, but the balsamic reduction sauce it was dressed with distracted too much from the freshness and delicate flavor I found in plainer bites. This freshness should have been surprising, since I realized after the meal that I had ordered fish on a Tuesday night - usually a big no-no in most restaurants. But Westville, it is clear, is not most restaurants. My friend enjoyed his steak over greens, but through comments on his outings to Les Halles I could tell he had had better quite recently, although certainly not for as reasonable a price as what we were charged. His steak was $16, my flounder $15.

Despite any minor misgivings on the sauce I wolfed my meal down to find for the first time in a while that I really wanted some dessert. Once again, the ample menu came through with homemade Oreo cookies. These were truly good, and halfway through my very large cookie I began to feel a serious sugar high. I could have shared one, but hey, for $3 I'll have my own, guilt-free, thank you. All in all, a very positive experience and one I hope to repeat when it isn't quite so biting outside.

Westville is at 210 West 1oth Street between Bleecker and West 4th St. They also just opened a new branch on the Lower East Side. Tel: 212-741-7971/4780. Walk-ins only, open 11:30am Mon-Fri, 10am Weekends and Holidays.

Valentines Day After

Gentleman and Ladies, this Valentine's day let us make our loved one happy. Me, I'll be waking up with myself, and I intend to make me very happy. This requires delicious french toast. So be it Wednesday morning beside your long-term loved one, Thursday morning beside your new-found, blearily hungover recently-loved one, or any morning waking up to your own charming self, here is a sure-fire winner. Just make sure you have everything ahead of time. Nothing takes one's motivation to please away like the prospect of a trip to the grocery store in slippers and a gown. One more thing: you are going need a blender with a whisk attatchment, and if you choose to blend the sauce in the morning and not the night before (you never know how successful your date will be, of course), make sure you are out of earshot. Nothing kills romance like a rude awakening. Unless it's a naughtily rude awakening. But that's another blog.

Challah French Toast with Naughty Fruit Sauce.

This recipe is portioned for 2. If single, I suggest weeping over the second portion on Feb. 14. The salt will really bring out bold flavors in the sauce.

For the toast:

• Half a leftover or fresh challah, preferably egg. Zomicks is fantastic if available in your area.
• 4 eggs (free-range organic have the best taste and quality)
• 3 T Milk of any stripe and 1 T cream (optional)
  
• 1 t Vanilla essence
• 1 T Maple syrup or sugar
  
• 2-4 T butter.

For the sauce:

• 1/2 cup seasonal fruit. Anything goes, but I suggest seedless or small-seeded berries. Valentine's mutual teeth picking, anyone? Blueberries are great and a frozen package will last well in the freezer. Mangoes or peaches also work well, but only fresh or high quality canned. Alternatively, use your favorite sorbet. Be creative and let me know what you use and how it goes.
• 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream. Cream is best for flavor, consistency and naughtiness, but substitute milk or soy milk (or chocolate milk) if you want your valentine looking exactly the way you left him/her. Not that you should care, of course. This is love, right? Keep in mind this will thin the sauce, so you may want to add more fruit.
  
• 1-3 T maple syrup or powdered sugar (quantity depends on sweetness of fruits used.)
• 1 T vanilla essence
• 1/3 cup fresh mint

Optional extras:

• 3 T melted chocolate, milk or dark
• 2 T Rum (kick that naughty factor up a dash)
• 1t Orange zest (grated orange rind)
  

Begin by lightly beating the eggs in a large bowl. Add the milk and cream, vanilla essence and maple syrup, and beat lightly until mixed. Cut the half challah into slices about 3/4" thick (2cm). Pour a little of the egg mixture into a lidded tupperware so that it just covers the bottom. Place a layer of challah at the bottom of the tupperware, pour some egg mixture on top, add another layer with mixture and continue until all slices are in. Pour any remaining egg mixture on top, cover the tupperware and refridgerate. Throughout the rest of cooking, periodically turn the tupperware to ensure all pieces of bread soak up the egg.

Whip the cream in a medium-sized bowl until it has soft peaks. (The peaks will kind of billow.) Cut up the fruit into bite-sized chunks or portion it to the correct amount. Chop the mint, unless you intend to blend the sauce. Fold in the fruit and mint to the cream, and add maple syrup, vanilla and any naughty additions. You can spoon it onto the toast like this, but I prefer to blend it thoroughly into a colorful sauce. This sauce can then be squeezed out from a simple squeeze bottle into glorious patterns over the finished french toast.

So you have the eggy, soggy bread and the lucsious, guilt-enriched sauce. Time for the easy part - the cooking. Melt a tablespoon of butter in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. When the butter starts to bubble, add the first 2 slices and cook until the underside is brown, about 2-3 minutes. Turn and cook for another 2-3. Repeat for the remaining slices. You can keep the cooked slices warm in a 200 degree F oven or even use the enclosed space of a microwave (not turned on) to preserve the heat while you finish cooking. While the toast is cooking, prepare the plates with garnishes of mint and a chocolate on the side. Mimosas - champagne and orange juice - complement this dish well, even if you're eating alone. In fact, perhaps more so. But skip the orange juice.

Once all slices are cooked, spoon or squirt the sauce over each portion on the serving plate. If you're a mushy romantic like me, draw or squirt hearts with arrows, I Heart U, or the old-fashioned zigzag that looks so fancy but in fact takes five minutes to master - all are fair game. Or better yet, make two sauces and let their colors complement. Go crazy. They'll be impressed. And report back on your successes!

What to Expect

I love to cook. I hate boring meals. This, I think, is a good combination. I have limited time and a slightly limited palette. My pallate, however, is open to whatever my meager salary allows. Except goat cheese. Please, don't hold it against me.

So, future posts will include recipes, anecdotes and tips as I share my next concoction. Please, eat along with me, and let me know what you think.

Welcome to my table.