supper club: springtime italian

April 11, 2013 in supper club

After spicing things up in February with a Mexican supper club, March seemed a time for returning to the familiar. For me, that means Italian food and, in this case, an opportunity to put an innovative spin on the flavors of my youth.

For this back-to-basics occasion, it seemed fitting to invite the "family", a rambunctious group of New York friends who have grown closer than most blood relatives. Silly, selfless and as indiscreet as they come, I knew we were in for a delicious and rowdy evening.

First came the friselles, little pepper biscuits that have become one of my signature dishes. I often give these savory, crumbly cookies as housewarming gifts, so they seemed the perfect greeting for my guests.

Next came crostini, sesame toasts layered with homemade ricotta and oven dried tomatoes. The tomatoes, simple as they come, were instant hits, which guests used to garnish everything from salad to savory dishes.

Then came a simple escarole salad, dressed with garlic, oil and anchovy dressing. My favorite briny fish served double duty, tying the salad to my grandmother's signature pasta dish: linguine with anchovy, walnuts and parsley.

After pasta came the main course, Sicilian meatballs (ground pork with pine nuts, parsley and currants) baked over a bed of radicchio. Alongside it, I served spicy broccoli rabe with bread crumbs and thinly sliced, roasted-going-on-blackened winter white vegetables (cauliflower, celery root, fennel).

Then came dessert, a blood orange olive oil cake topped with blood orange/honey compote and home-whipped cream. It was the perfect, bittersweet end to this especially nostalgic supper club.

A last round of drinks, and it was nearly midnight. That didn't stop the stragglers however, who challenged me to highly competitive game of Connect-4, the most intense (I'm sure) that my local dive bar has ever seen.

Thanks again to all who made this such a special night. You truly all are family to me, and I look forward to hosting you again and again.

eater's digest: buvette

March 23, 2013 in eater's digest

There are some restaurants that fit like a glove. Barely through the door, even without seeing the menu, you sense familiarity. It's not quite déjà vu, because you've rarely seen this before - your kind of restaurant, manifested in the flesh.

Now that doesn't mean this is the best restaurant you've ever eaten in. Of course, it has to be great. But a restaurant that feels like you imagined it yourself is not a constant succession of "wow!" moments. Like Alice in Wonderland, you've tried the bottles that made you bigger and smaller. That was good fun, but this is the bottle that will turn you back to "just right".

Getting to the point, this restaurant - for me, in New York - is Buvette. The first time I went there, I had only a glass of wine and two small plates, but that was enough. From then on, I called it "my favorite restaurant in New York". Sure, I cock my head to think after saying it, knowing I've had more earth-shaking meals elsewhere, but that's not the point.

The point is the charm, the desire to return, again and again. The waiters and bar staff that range from pleasantly gruff to more than accommodating, all dressed in dapper ties and half-aprons. The random assortment of ceiling mirrors that reflect the hustle and bustle of the small space. The conscious and obvious eaves-dropping of the conversations around you. The bathroom whose haphazard "je ne sais quoi" qualities make you wish you had brought your camera.

But for all my affection, it was just this month that I ate a full, proper meal at Buvette. I brought along one of my favorite eaters - a friend whose wealth of cultural experiences has not dampened her enthusiasm for simpler pleasures (case in point: her favorite food is macaroni and cheese). I introduced her to brandade de morue, a long-time provencale favorite of mine. Buvette's was an appropriate balance of creamy and light, briny and balanced. We followed with more seafood, an octopus salad with celery that stunned with its simplicity. If there was a dish of food to eat every day it might be this. Tender, crunchy, refreshing, textural.

As for sides, I insisted on poireaux. To get properly cooked leeks is always a pleasure, and these were cooked in the traditional French vinaigrette style, tender (but not mushy) with an ample dose of whole grain moutarde. As for the cauliflower gratin (chosen by Ms. Mac n' Cheese), it was a reminder of this overlooked vegetable's myriad magical qualities. I'll take mashed, steamed, pureed or roasted cauliflower over the omnipresent potato any day.

And then, the pièce de résistance. I had heard rumors about this chocolate mousse - that it was whipped by hand in copper bowls to achieve a most wonderful texture. However, I could never have imagined what I was about to experience. Luxurious, dense, creamy, resistant and yet yielding - I'm not sure you can even legitimately call it mousse. It's too intense to eat alone, even with its dollop of exquisite whipped cream. The essence of dessert, hailing from a time before we decided to emulate the hyper-sweet, high fructose corn syrup universe in which we currently live. In short - and in summary - it's not to be missed.

eater's digest: al di là

March 18, 2013 in eater's digest

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

One of the great misconceptions that people often have is that I've eaten at all the restaurants in my neighborhood. The truth is, if I'm near home, I'm usually cooking. Moreover, something nearby is no more likely of an edible destination than others, as I've never been shy about traveling far and wide for the perfect bite.

That said, moving to South Brooklyn has opened the flood gates to an entirely new world of local eats. Though I still spend a hefty chunk of my paycheck on groceries at the Coop, the unique culture of small business in this borough has inspired me to spend more time outside my kitchen. And so it was that on a recent weekend I arrived at Al Di Là.

Now, eating Italian food in restaurants is a tricky thing. Raised on la cucina della nonna, I typically opt to explore more obscure cuisines on my restaurant outings. To boot, if I'm dining with the discriminating palates of my parents and sister, the bar for a "pasta joint" is set pretty high. But as I've eaten in more and more of the excellent Italian establishments in NYC, I've come to appreciate the perfection of truly al dente pasta or the difference between everyday minestrone and a masterpiece.

In this ever-crowded genre of restaurant fare, Al Di Là inches ahead with grace and little fanfare. The dining room is a quirky spin on bistro chic, with a red/maroon and gold aesthetic that repeats in the wall paper, curtains and painted-to-look-vintage tin ceiling. The dishes echo this unassuming - yet distinctive - charm, with slight details that consistently offer something more than expected.

A mild mandolined salad of white winter vegetables was refreshing, elegant and crisp. The soup of the day contained everything but the kitchen sink, and yet achieved a refined balance - in particular, the contrast of bright, just-wilted greens with the slow-built flavors of meat stock. The pastas, too, were an upgrade on the classics. The carbonara tasted distinctly grown-up, with pronounced, lingering notes of white wine and far-superior-to-your-average bacon. An indescribably delicious cavatelli with cauliflower ragu had me bartering "a-bite-for-a-bite" so often that I surely ate half of my sister's plate.

These are the meals that inspire me as a cook. The dishes that remind me that ingredients, timing and the tiniest dash of creativity are the difference between great and phenomenal. The days where we laugh ourselves silly, sopping up every last bit of sauce with our bread. The ones where we walk out of the restaurant not stuffed, but satisfied - knowing we've truly shared a meal.

Al Di Là
248 5th Ave
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.783.4565