seen and heard: supper studio

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

As a food writer, most of the time, my job includes avoiding open nights. Even in the better, faster, stronger culture of social media, the most serious critics still give new food businesses 4-6 weeks (and 2-3 visits!) before writing a first review.

On the flip side, in the music industry, there has long been an appeal of being the person to "discover" a band. While heading to a new restaurant is often a major risk on opening day, a great many music stories revolve around being present at the first public performance of a song, or even getting a sneak peak of a band's studio time.

Preparing the duck prosciutto and polenta fry appetizer.

Preparing the duck prosciutto and polenta fry appetizer.

At the brand-new venture, Supper Studio, these two worlds—music and food—delightfully collide, with all their disparate quirks and appeal. The event's organizers, Laura Leebove, Tracy Candido and Ben Wygonik, are no stranger to this mash-up, as Laura's longtime blog, Eating the Beats, features recipes inspired by various musicians.

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Such was the format for Supper Studio, with local band Pearl and the Beard as the inspiration for the evening's ambitious eats. As Pearl's guitarist, Jeremy Styles recalls, the group actually met Laura through her blog, when she featured their Bon Iver cover of "Stacks" alongside a fanciful stack of pancakes.

This seasonal dinner series launched on a humid night near City Hall. Curiosity ran high, as well as excitement. $35 for dinner and a concert certainly seemed like a bargain rate, so I was both anxious and excited to see what the night would bring. A glass wall was all that separated us from the kitchen—an exciting detail, from my perspective, but certainly one that raised the stakes for the kitchen crew.

Laura Leebowe explains the inspiration for the first course.

Laura Leebowe explains the inspiration for the first course.

We were promptly served small cups of polenta fries with duck prosciutto, roasted asparagus and horseradish mustard. It was a tasty, indulgent snack, if a bit difficult to eat. Upon hearing the dish analyzed by the cooks, Pearl's Jocelyn joked, "Our voices have never been compared to prosciutto—that's some expensive meat!"

As the band geared up to play their first set, the kitchen served a second appetizer of smoked almond tart with eggplant, vine tomato and ricotta. My co-diners especially liked this course, which we savored, settling into the intimacy of watching one of our favorite bands from 3 feet away.

As someone who regularly hosts a supper club, I was impressed that the kitchen was accommodating for food allergies (a generous, but time consuming move, in my experience). The decision to serve the three final courses seated also created a significant delay, given the event's limited staff.

Despite the delay, the other courses were well prepared—a refreshing watermelon radish and butter lettuce salad, creamy macaroni and cheese with salmon and zucchini and a sweet vanilla tapioca with strawberry rhubarb and shortbread cookie crumbs.

During dessert, Pearl and the Beard performed a second set, and any disappointment caused by the dinner's delay instantly faded. The band played a brand new song—so new, in fact, that they had yet to agree on the name. It was in that moment that I recalled how different the value of "newness" is in music and food. We forgive the experimental among musicians—the false starts, the jokes when they do mess up—in ways that we do not forgive cooks.

Pearl and the Beard's sultry cellist, Emily Hope Price.

Pearl and the Beard's sultry cellist, Emily Hope Price.

Which is why I would recommend Supper Studio to other fans of music and food. For a first event, the food was well prepared—an ambitious feat, especially given the team's small, makeshift kitchen. To boot, unless you work at NPR's Tiny Desk, it's nearly impossible to see a band (especially a great band!) in that intimate a setting. So keep an eye out for Supper Studio this fall. I'm sure they'll return with tastier timing.

seen and heard: superhuman happiness, poor remy, morgan o'kane, milla brune

By Carly DeFilippo
Photos by Jose Camargo and Yana Gilbuena

Oh, early summer. That time of year when we dance ’til we drop at outdoor music festivals, stay up way too late on weeknights and question if we ever could leave NY. Newly infected with sunshine-induced optimism, we Sofar NY’ers scaled the steps to a fifth floor Soho walk-up, squeezing in with 60 other newly tanned music fans, for a chance to hear the very best up-and-coming bands.

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First up was the aptly named Superhuman Happiness, featuring futuristic bleeps and bloops that faded into tinny guitar, muted horn and upbeat vocal lines. This curious mish-mash of musical talent was a literal juggling act of instruments and techniques, on one hand featuring a certain island sway, on the other sounding like the perfect band for an 80s houseparty. But within the group’s remarkable range, there was one consistent element: seriously catchy intro & outros, no matter the song’s particular style.

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Next came Sofar second-timers Poor Remy, a bit more twangy than when we saw them last. The trio’s energy is distinctly high—in their own words, they “yell about [their] feelings.” But rather than an angsty teenage sound, their charmingly peculiar movement and gravely tenors meld in a modern folk style—and we’re loving watching this young band come into their own. 

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Morgan O’Kane was slated next, bringing along NOLA cellist Leyla McCalla as a special guest. She kicked off their four song set with a beautifully arranged and moving setting of Langston Hughes’ “Girl.”

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From there they launched into O’Kane’s signature style, with the help of guitarist Ezekiel Healy and spoon-player Liam Crill. In O’Kane’s hand the banjo becomes a mode of transcendence, accompanied by a rocking foot stomping that mesmerizes any onlooker. The addition of Crill’s unusual spoonwork brought an additional level of authenticity to the group’s homespun style, a sort of secular seance for a simpler place and time.

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As for the finale, we were graced by Belgium’s own Milla Brune, an established European talent just breaking into the American music scene. If her voice is soft, it doesn’t lack for power—with an agility and soulful depth that most pop singers would envy. Brune shared the inspiration for one song in particular, “Precious,” inspired by a little girl who Brune struck in a came-out-of-nowhere car accident (Happily, the little girl recovered.) Touching in its recognition of the fragility of our day-to-day existence, the song demonstrated the best of Brune’s storytelling, reflective wisdom written into each line.

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ingredients: coffee

Photos by Lauren DeFilippo

We don't often think of coffee as an ingredient, a product to be manipulated by temperature and technique to achieve a certain sensory effect. But whether we're considering the origin of the beans, how they are ground or the increasing range of steeping techniques, coffee is just that—the starting point in an evolutionary process, a drinkable choose-your-own-adventure.

Coffee isn't regarded this way by most consumers, because we rarely have the chance to experience proper tastings—side by side comparisons of different beans, roasting techniques or brewing styles. But at this year's Food and Book Fair, I had the unique chance to do just that. Hosted by New York Times contributor, Oliver Strand, and illustrator/coffee afficionado Lars Huse our "coffee crawl" explored the caffeinated creativity of a few particularly tasty blocks in Williamsburg.

We first checked out Toby's Estate, for a "cowboy coffee" cupping. A "cupping" is the industry term for a coffee tasting, and this rudimentary style of brewing eliminates variables that might otherwise influence  our perception of a certain bean's properties. In this case, we were looking to understand the complexity of roasting, under the guidance of one of Toby's in-house experts.

In the roasting process, beans start at about twelve percent moisture. The green color of raw beans is a trait of chlorophyll, which slowly roasts out as the beans heat. During this process, the polysaccharides break down into monosaccharides, and help establish sweetness in the form of fructose and glucose. As the beans dry, they fade from green to yellow to orange. They also expand and when the moisture finally reaches the point of becoming gas, it emits an audible crack, similar to the sound of popcorn. A roaster is looking for something in between an underdeveloped bean ("baked") and a "roasted" bean, one in which the taste of the roast overtakes the coffee's inherent qualities.

Freshly roasted beans falling from the barrel of Toby's Probat machine.

Freshly roasted beans falling from the barrel of Toby's Probat machine.

After tasting quickly brewed beans which had undergone varied degrees of roasting, we headed over to Blue Bottle, to experience the range of flavors and textures provided by brewing the same ground coffee in different ways. In this case, we were tasting Rwandan Kirezi coffee, a bean prized for its qualities, but that also provided a considerable risk to coffee brewers. For one reason or another, Rwandan beans are subject to a "potato defect", which means that if one bad bean heats up in the roaster, the entire facility will smell like fried potato. When this happens, shops literally have to halt production and clean out the roasting machine in question, losing not only the current batch of coffee, but also valuable time—and the potato defect, unlike a "quaker" (underripe bean) cannot be spotted by eye.

We first sampled a cold brew, which expressed a highly developed mouthfeel and surprising level of sweetness. Prepared with a Japanese Oji brewer, this slow, 10-12 hour process also packs a mighty punch of caffeine, as the longer the brewing method, the more caffeinated the beverage. From there we sampled a Chemex brew, a style that hails from Chicago in the 1940s. This method requires "blooming" the coffee—to pour water slowly over the filter while the gases ("the bloom") rise. The flavor was light and clean, but far less sweet (and caffeinated) than the cold brew. Last, we sampled a French Press coffee, an infusion brewing style that rendered an oilier, more viscous cup.

Waving off our growing "caffeine jitters", we continued on to Sweetleaf Espresso Bar. Oliver chose this shop because it is one of the few that offer multiple types of espresso. An espresso grinder costs $1-4,000, and since each bean requires its own grinder to preserve its subtle character, it's an investment many shops aren't willing to take on. Tasting Ritual Coffee's "Stickball Blend" and "Rwanda Kiringue", it was remarkable to note the differences in the darkness of the roast and the acidity of the flavors. If you've never tasted two espressos side by side, it's certainly an interesting experiment.

Espresso at Sweetleaf.

Espresso at Sweetleaf.

From there, the wired group headed back to the Wythe, the epicenter of the Food & Book Fair. I had to step out to attend another FBF lecture, but left with the buzz of both caffeine and newfound curiosity.

Like a wine connoisseurs "tastevin", these silver spoons are the slurping equivalent for coffee cuppings.

Like a wine connoisseurs "tastevin", these silver spoons are the slurping equivalent for coffee cuppings.

Others have called coffee the "new wine", regarding our growing interest in single-origin blends, roasting methods and styles of preparation. However, unlike wine, coffee offers a unique hobbyist element, in that almost anyone can play around with different brewing methods at home. If I had to choose, I'd probably opt for an (admittedly pricey) Oji brewer...but for the time being, my old-fashioned Italian moka will do.