In the Catskills, the end draws near

I only had a week left in New York City, and boy was I in denial. It didn't at all feel like I was about to move myself across the country to start school—all it felt like was me living with my parents and hanging out with my friends. Colorado what?

But several weeks earlier, TC had cooked up the idea of a final weekend trip on the East Coast before I left (and I did leave, I swear, as much as my posts make it seem like I'm still in NYC). After figuring out what our options were—beach camping in Maryland was the original plan, but it was too late to stay on the island we wanted—she managed to find a house that could accommodate all of us. Two artists, a married couple formally from Brooklyn, were renting out a converted barn in the Catskills that boasted several beds and futons, a large kitchen and dining area, two bathrooms (one with a claw-foot tub), and a completely open loft structure. It had been their home just before, so the place still bore signs of their presence, such as their artwork on the walls and an entire jewelry studio in one of the rooms. It was easily one of the most unique houses I'd ever stayed in.

Photo by TL

It even had a hammock, for godsake.

Since there were so many of us, we straggled in at various times Friday evening. The first night was mellow; mostly we waited for people to arrive and sat around the dining/living room drinking and chatting. The majority hit the sack early, as we had an early morning ahead.

When we woke, a group effort led to this spread on the table. Scrambled eggs; toast; bananas; grapes; pan-fried salami; sausage and peppers; tomatoes and mozzarella. As much as we wanted to, we didn't linger too long over breakfast. Hustle, hustle…we had places to go, and things to do.


Photos by TL

Things like…kayaking! We spent the morning floating down the Delaware River. There were only a few mishaps, which did not involve making a wrong turn, getting stuck on rocks, and losing everyone else on the river for the last hour. Not did it involve JL refusing to apply sunblock and ending up with a crazy burn stripe on top of his thighs and calves, like a roller of hot pink paint had swept up his legs. A certain DL didn't tip right into the water at the end of the ride, either.

Of course not.

After kayaking, most of us took a nap after getting back and eating lunch (and showering). But before dinner, AT, RA, TL, and I took a walk and went exploring the graveyard and the gravel pits nearby. "It feels like you're in the middle of the desert," was how the owner had described the area. He was right.


Once it was about time to start preparing dinner several of us got to work. The plan had been to use the grill outside, but as it had gotten cold and the mosquitoes were biting, we opted to sear the steaks in a large cast-iron skillet and to boil the sweet ears of corn for our Mexican-style cobs instead of grilling—both came out successfully. The zucchini, yellow squash, onions, and eggplant didn't fare as well; they were meant to come out roasted, but overcrowding in the oven made them more steamed than charred and they were a little undercooked to boot. But SH had made a killer pasta salad, and we cooked up some turkey burgers and garlicky sauteed portobello mushrooms as well. Once we threw in the random leftovers from lunch (cold cuts, bread, cheese), there was plenty of food, and I'm pretty sure no one went hungry. Especially TL the corn-lover, who downed two of the cheesy, spicy suckers lickety-split.

That night, we were in for the "serious drinking" portion of the trip, which involved Patrón, Grey Goose, Sana-ritas, and many cans of beer. Throw in a deck of cards and a bunch of alcohol penalties, and you've got "I Never," Kings, boob-grabbing, and some mighty embarrassing dance moves.

It was a while before we got to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up early to get breakfast started. Given a slight shortage the morning before, we compensated by making an extra large batch of eggs. In case anyone is curious what thirty eggs look like cracked into a bowl, well, here you go.

With the help of milk, salt, and a whisk, thirty floating yolks became two pans of scrambled eggs with scallions and parmesan.

There were also six fresh eggs…

…courtesy of these fellas. Look at the difference in yolk color! I simply fried them up in a pool of butter, and the six farm eggs disappeared quickly.

After that, it was time to get ready to leave. Some of us went to take a look at the Turquoise Barn gallery nearby; the house owners had held a reception there the day before, but as we had been out kayaking, we missed it. As we packed up, I thought about how it would be a long time before I would take a trip like this again, and even if I did, it probably wouldn't be with exactly the same set of friends. Already others were making plans and moves in different directions, and there was just no telling where any of us would end up. Whatever later-on was going to be, though, I had just spent a very fine weekend with a group of loved ones, and it was that which made me realize who and what I was leaving behind. That weekend, I allowed myself to admit that I was going to be saying goodbye.

Big brains, little burgers at Dempsey's

The email went around a few days beforehand. "Wednesday night for beer and Quizzo. If you guys come, the room may burst with the sheer force of our combined brain power. What do you say?"

Hell yes was the answer. Running late from getting mani-pedis courtesy of GQ, MH and I showed up Dempsey's Pub after most people had eaten already. Still, it wasn't too late to catch happy hour and to order a plate of sliders before the game began. I'm no burger expert, but these were really satisfying: beefy, juicy little morsels on appropriately squishy bread that melded with the meat and melted cheddar. For seven bucks (plus a dollar for cheese), four sliders was a good deal.

Unsatisfied with the cooling remains of other people's sweet potato fries, MH and I asked for an order of regular fries and I swiped the dipping sauces from the sweet potato fries to eat with them (red pepper mayo, ranch, and honey mustard). Both fry variations were pretty good, and a deep, heaping bowl was only five bucks.

In short, cheap and decent pub food to be had at Dempsey's. And did the room burst with our extensive command of useless knowledge? Unfortunately, the Quizzo gods knew all about divide and conquer—there were enough of us that we were forced to split up. In the end, it seemed our strength was in beauty and not brains: none of us won, but one of us walked away with a prize for "best dressed." Oh well! Next time, next time.

Sauce, basil, and no cheese: Jianetto's Pizza Truck

For four girls meeting up for lunch in midtown Manhattan, pizza off a truck was the order of the day. XJS had less than an hour to get back to her office, and JL wanted to try Jianetto's after reading the review on Midtown Lunch.

I met JL at the small plaza in front of the truck, and somehow she was already bearing a full pie.

As well as an order of Sicilian rice balls, broken up and covered in sauce…

…which came with garlic knots. Once XJS arrived and MH secured us drinks, it didn't take long for the four of us to dig in.

Here's my slice. Doesn't look too remarkable, does it? Unfortunately, its taste matched its appearance. From reading the review, I knew not to expect much cheese (if at all), but I didn't expect the pizza to taste so much like a cheap breadstick spread with sweet marinara. I didn't mind the cheese-lessness and the whole leaves of basil were a nice touch, but I wanted dough with more character beneath that sauce. As for the rice balls and garlic knots, they were fine, but not mind-blowing. With limited time in one of the best cities to eat, I was underwhelmed by the experience, and so was JL.

At least it was fast….

Come into the garden, Maud

I had moved out of my apartment in Astoria and was living in my parents' house for a couple of weeks before I flew out to Colorado. Since my last writeup, the garden had seriously flourished. Back in May, it had looked like this:

Now it was August, and that bare soil had become home to plenty of different fruits and vegetables.

There were cucumbers—dark green, spiny, and seedless. Delicious plain, in salads, or served grated with soba.

Chives, which are good in fillings for steamed bao.

A variety of purple basil, which I think might not have been an intentional planting. Since we bury our compost, seeds sometimes take root in the soil randomly.

Bitter melon, which my mom likes to cook in a clear soup with Taiwanese preserved pineapples and chicken pieces. I don't like bitter melon in many other ways, but the soup is delicious.

And for me, the highlight: sweet, juicy tomatoes that I eat still warm from the sun. I wait for these all year—I hate those pale, hard, styrofoam balls being sold as "tomatoes" in supermarkets these days.

It's too cold now and the season is over, but each year I look forward to the summer hoard. The flavors and textures, especially in the tomatoes, are much more vibrant. All these vegetables ever need is a rinse to loosen stray crumbs of dirt; again, there are no pesticides or artificial fertilizers involved. For my parents, the garden takes plenty of hard work, but the bounty is definitely worth it.

Perfect Team Corporation: Winsome dim sum

Don't ask me how they did it. At the 18th Annual Hong Kong Dragon Boat Festival held at Flushing Meadows Corona Park, friends RL and IJD each gulped down twenty-five and fifteen dumplings (respectively) in a two-minute dumpling-eating contest. Up against the formidable Floria Lee, who ate forty-three dumplings the previous year and thirty-eight this year, neither of them stood to win first place, but what my friends could do once the contest ended was…eat more dumplings.

Yes, somehow the idea of having dim sum in Flushing afterward didn't make them automatically throw up. And with a name like Perfect Team Corporation Restaurant, what better place to have a post-contest meal? Maybe RL and IJD could each eat enough dumplings there to make it to thirty-eight. Or thirty-nine, for the win.


As soon as we sat, the rest of us—who hadn't been swilling dumplings down our throats—began the mad process of securing food for the table. It was still pretty busy considering it was around two, and the carts clattered by, fragrant clouds billowing out every time a steamer lid was lifted. I love you, dim sum.

The crystal shrimp dumplings, meat-filled fried mochi, and meat-filled fried taro balls were all excellent. The Chinese broccoli, though good, didn't stand a chance against these delicious morsels. It was only there to give us some peace of mind. You know: "Oh yes, this isn't really so unhealthy."

Equally excellent were the meatballs, leaf-wrapped rice packets, and the cha shao–stuffed pastries. That last one might have been my favorite of the whole meal…or no, maybe it was the fried taro balls. Or maybe the shrimp dumplings. Oh hell.

No dim sum meal is complete without an order of shrimp rice noodle rolls. The beef rice noodle rolls were good, too.


Everything was awesome, but by this point, we were getting most of the same carts over and over again. Maybe this place is all about quality over quantity, but I really wanted a bit more selection. It's dim sum, maaaan! We ended up ordering only a few new items and getting repeats of some of the others. Above, the spare ribs with pumpkin and the shrimp-stuffed peppers were nice, but the turnip cake didn't have enough turnip and the lotus-leaf rice packet wasn't nearly as fragrant as the small packets of leaf-wrapped rice we got in the beginning. Sadness.

But we were winding down anyway. And RL and IJD were finally feeling the weight of the dumplings in their stomachs and had stopped eating altogether. I don't know if they caught up to Floria by the meal's end, but one thing's for sure, even when you (don't) win some, you dim sum!

A young man's fancy leads to 44 & X

The photo quality is putrid, I know. This is what happens when you eat in a chichi restaurant that has dim lights.

It's a long way from the subway when you're headed to 44 & X, a Hell's Kitchen restaurant a little off the beaten path. Especially when you're wearing a flouncy white dress and a pair of strappy sandals. What was the occasion? RT had cooked up the idea of "Fancy Night," an evening of good food, good drinks, and four good friends. All of it, of course, to be undertaken in our fanciest gear.

Wearing high heels in the battle through Times Square nearly did one of us in (not me) but we all made it to the restaurant looking appropriately snazzy. There, we settled in to its sleek decor, its menu of American classics with a spin, and its appropriately good-looking staff. I was torn about what to order, but after hemming and hawing between the turkey and wild mushroom meatloaf—wrapped in bacon!—and the buttermilk fried chicken—um, wrapped in crispy battered skin!—I decided on the latter. (Really, it was the waffle listed as an accompaniment that finally swayed me; I'm always looking for those perfect chicken and waffles.)

The piece I received was huge. Along with the aforementioned waffle, it was served with a pile of braised collard greens. Two quibbles: while the waffle was listed as chive, I didn't detect a single bit of veg either in taste or appearance; the black pepper and maple syrup reduction drizzled on top didn't do anything for me (aside from making the waffle soggy). But otherwise, the chicken was juicy and the breading crisp and greaseless. Everyone else seemed pretty happy with their choices, too.

After polishing off as much as we could we shared an order of the Kona coffee crème brûlée and a fruit crumble with ice cream on top. The first was adequate, and the second was overpoweringly sweet; a simple glass of wine might have been the better ending. But luckily for all of us there was plenty of that ahead, too, for this fancy night was still young.

At Seva, sweetness and light united

TL and I were on our way to Chinatown and the Brooklyn Bridge for the afternoon, but while walking around Astoria looking for a new place to eat, we ran across Seva. I had just read the raves on Chowhound a day or two before, but neither of us realized how close the place was to TL's apartment until we walked down a few blocks and there it was. The clean, bright, welcoming restaurant called to us and we didn't resist.

When we sat, we were presented with two thin pappadum crackers, wholly unlike the tough, soggy specimens I had been served at Nirvana. These were delightfully crisp, and the tamarind and mint chutneys served alongside seemed fresher than usual.

We both ordered the lunch special ($8 for soup, entree, rice, and drink, available on weekends too), but tacked on an order of the "bok choy crispy curls"—perfectly fried, nearly greaseless fritters of chopped bok choy in a gram flour batter. It was also served with a killer mint raita; the thick, tangy, slightly sweet yogurt sauce was a great accompaniment to the fritters and to the rest of the meal, too. Also, at a mere $3 for a full plate, this appetizer was a steal.

This was followed by Mulligatawny soup, which in the past I hadn't been fond of. But at Seva, it was completely different; I'm glad it came as part of the lunch special or I would have missed out. It was excellent, really thick and rich, like split pea soup but with Indian spicing. A squeeze of lime gave it a nice tang and I found myself spooning up the entire bowl.

After our dishes were cleared, a pot of basmati rice and a thick, fluffy round of naan (ordered separately) arrived along with our entrees.

The lamb korma (on the right) was lighter than most versions but every bit as flavorful. Same went for the chicken tikka masala. And TL, who doesn't normally do well with lamb, was fine with the mild-tasting meat that was in the korma. The curries seemed fresh and were perfectly spiced, and both of us loved that we didn't feel heavy and leaden after we were done eating.

We spent some time chatting with the pleasant, soft-spoken owner/chef of Seva, who I could tell was really dedicated to his customers and the restaurant. He explained that most of the spices were shipped to him by his mother in India, and that his light touch with ghee and cream in the dishes was intentional. All I can say is, I'm all for it! I left Seva feeling cheerful, which is a sign that I've had some really good eats.


Afterwards, it was on to Chinatown, City Hall, the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn Heights, and Coney Island. I don't know about TL, but my satisfaction with Seva lasted me throughout the entire day. By the time we finally made it home we were too tired to do much else besides order from Papa Johns, which under normal circumstances might have been anticlimactic. But with an awesome meal and an awesome day under our belts, neither of us needed anything more to wow us.