For Sunday night supper, we put our ingredients from our trip to Eataly to good use. We boiled the tagliatelle for exactly three minutes, drained it, but left a little pasta water in the pot and tossed it with butter, olive oil and Parmesan cheese. Then we sprinkled black truffles on top and opened a burgundy. Wow.
Halloween at the farm usually includes silly hats. Today, the Hunna has a frightening wig:
And some yummy candy:
Irene joined us for oysters, pasta and a little low-impact singing to Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson.
Parting is such sweet sorrow. The only consolation on the train ride home from the city was the beautiful scenery.
We walked home from Sakagura down Third Avenue, enjoying some Halloween costumes along the way. Good night, Manhattan! Thanks for the fun.
For our final dinner during our city weekend, we decided to stay close to home. (Hmm. Could it have been the late-night drinks at Mayahuel that had something to do with this?) We went to a hidden gem of a Japanese restaurant: Sakagura. You really have to know what you’re looking for — it’s in the basement of an office building (and the light can be harsh in that hallway after a couple of sakes, let me tell you). But once you settle into your table and peruse the menu a moment, you realize it was worth the effort.
Especially because this is not Japanese food you might be used to eating. No sushi bar. Hardly any sushi, really. The restaurant is a style called izakaya, or a Japanese pub. (And frankly, it’s an upscale one at that.) Though, to me, it’s even more like Japanese tapas. Lots of little dishes, some of which come out in a flurry, others of which — mostly the heavier ones or the noodles — are held back til then end. And yes, you can pair sake with it all. We tried just two seasonal sakes. They came in a beautiful box. And they paired perfectly with almost everything, especially my favorite dish, the fantastical Onsen Tamago, a soft-boiled egg topped with sea urchin and salmon roe in a cold soup:
After taking in the matinee performance of The Scottsboro Boys, we headed over to the swanky new — but very old looking — Lambs Club. It’s like the Art Deco lounge of your dreams. You’re living in a 1930s movie. WPA-style murals. Glass and shiny chrome. Sleek, hopeful, elegant. Yeah, and the drinks are great, too.
What would a weekend in New York be without trying some fancy, artisanal, Neapolitan-style pizza? Nothing. The answer would be nothing. So we found ourselves at Motorino. The weekend is saved. We are happy.
On Friday after Eataly, we first headed to the Whitney to see the Lee Friedlander “America by Car” exhibit and also the new Hopper exhibit. No photos from there. Then we went to see Rory and Chris at their new apartment on the Upper East Side. Sorry, no photos there, either, even though Chris made delicious hors d’oeuvres (ricotta crostini with honey and pear) and their view is breathtaking. Photos of dinner? Yeah, we’ve got that. Momofuku Ssam Bar, and here are the pork buns:
We were warned. If you’re heading to Eataly, Mario Batali and Joe Bastianich’s new emporium of all things Italian and food: Bring sharp elbows and lots of patience. We needed only a little of each. A map would have helped, too. At least at first.
The Flatiron, framed among the fall foliage. Worthy of admiration, indeed.
And so is this sight, I would say:
Happy fall.
When you’re done with dinner at 8, there’s really nothing wrong with stopping in the local cocktail club for a post, is there? We thought not.
Prime Meats is the kind of place a couple of tourists from upstate might find themselves as the first diners at 6:30 p.m. on a Thursday night for dinner. About 20 minutes later, a family from the neighborhood — celebrating one of their teenager’s brithdays — would be seated three tables down on the banquette. Ten minutes after that, an older couple would take the table across the room. Next, four college grads are ordering cocktails at the table next to the family, and a group of 30-somethings are standing at the (very excellent) bar. By the time the tourists leave at 8, the entire restaurant is packed with a crowd as diverse as the neighborhood itself. And all to sample German food and cocktails that were popular at the turn of the last century.
A walk through Park Slope to Carroll Gardens — two days before Halloween. We saw costumes, bats, spiders, and some very scary other things, like warehouses along the Gowanus Canal. But first, the pretty stuff. Like pumpkins.
Brilliant fall colors. A native flora garden. Blooming roses. All in a day’s visit to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden in Prospect Park.
A meal that’s half summer and half fall: grilled steak and baked potato. It suited us just fine for Sunday supper at the Farm.
After we planted a whole bunch of bulbs in the front of our two houses, the neighbors offered to cook supper. Seemed fair to us! We all gathered around the fire for bowls of bolognese, all made with vegetables from Tasha’s garden.
We’ve been living on the farm for 8 1/2 years now, but this is the first fall we’ve gotten it together in time to plant bulbs for spring. A couple weeks back, I did the orchard: tulips, hyacinth, crocus. Today, we did the fields in front: 100 daffodils, a couple dozen tulips, some Dutch iris and a couple dozen muscari. We created a little border bed between us and the neighbors, who contributed some bulbs too. We’re hoping for a big show in the spring!
The worst part was an old fence post that was buried four feet down in the ground. We also planted two lilacs on the side of the house, and this post was in the way. If we didn’t remove it today, it would have been there forever for people to twist their ankles (Tasha) and slice open their toes when wearing flip flops (me). It was a brutal task.
Recette is a charming little corner bistro in the West Village where the artful presentation of the food belies the simple, comfortable space. The chef, Jesse Schenker, is talented indeed.
Here, the Berkshire Pork Belly, Rock Shrimp, Turnips, Romesco, Sherry Caramel:
The Breslin is a saloon. Except it’s not. It’s got lots of dark wood and feels old. But it also has terrific, modern food and a great wine list and nice cocktails and a fun atmosphere. I mean, you’re not going to see horse carriages and hoop skirts when you go. But you might feel like they are lurking. At least until you try the lamb burger. The juice drips down your wrists when you eat it. And then there’s the sharp feta. And the sting from the onion. Yeah, it’s good.
What’s better than a baked potato? A baked potato with salad and a sauteed chicken breast with balsamic reduction:
For Saturday night supper, we used a little of the homemade chicken stock to thin out the leftovers from the posole we’d served for book club on Thursday. I’ll get to that post (and the recipe for the posole) soon enough, but for now, here’s a look at Posole II:
With a touch of fall in the air, we settled in by the fire with a warming apple brandy drink called the Perfect Parallel. It’s like a perfect Manhattan — which uses half sweet and half dry Vermouth — except you substitute apple jack brandy for bourbon or rye. We first came across it back at the Pegu Club many years back. We’ve been making it ever since.
Here’s a recipe with step-by-step photos for homemade chicken stock.
They don’t call it magic gold for nothing. You, too, can have this gorgeous, clear, restorative, delicious smelling chicken broth. As long as you’re planning on sticking around for a weekend. It doesn’t take a lot of effort — but it does take some time. Not active time. Just waiting time. Really. It couldn’t be simpler.
Ready?
After some errands Saturday morning in Westchester, Greg and I decided to hit Aberdeen, the Chinese restaurant in White Plains that does dim sum every day.
We’re always looking for new places to try before the theater, so when a new-old spot popped up on the Sifty Fifty — a list of New York Times restaurant critic Sam Sifton’s favorite New York City restaurants at the moment — I thought it good to give it a shot. Boo said: “If this is good, I’ll never have to think about going out in this area again. I hate thinking about going out in this area.”
Well, I don’t know if it’s never again. You might want to mix it up a little and try some different spots. Chez Napoleon is rather stuck in a time warp. And this is a good thing, when you’re wanting a dependable, cute cafe that serves French cuisine like your grandmere used to make.
Sour Cherry Farm hosted “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley, the Goat Herd book club’s most recent selection. We had a lively discussion about savages and utopia, of expectations and dreams lost. And of course we laughed. A lot.
I was inspired by the book club to make a dish from New Mexico. We’re reading “Brave New World,” and that’s where John the Savage and his mother, Linda, are from. They get brought back to “civilization,” much like, as Rory said, King Kong in a cage. Here’s the recipe for Posole with New Mexican Chilies.
Sunday night supper uses the last of the summer produce. Bye summer!
I had a bunch of zucchini and heirloom tomatoes that were calling out to be used before they turned on me. So on Sunday, I simply chopped them up and layered them — along with some onions, garlic, parmesan oregano and basil. Presto: easy — and delicious — gratin:
The recipe, and step-by-step photos, after the jump.
