Although I am not from this place, thousands of miles from home, it is clear that my heart, my soul belong here.
Three days ago I landed in New York City. There is something about this place that has always captured my attention. Her lights, her people, her infectious inspiring character which I carry with me always. I came to this place alone. Hoping to find signs that what I felt inside of me was myth. I desperately wanted to prove myself wrong. Instead, I found that I can not do without her. There’s a lot of pain in leaving a place that you know you belong in. Within my broken heart I need to find a way to turn this pain into drive.
I wont leave her for too long. I will be back, and when that day comes she will welcome me as she has done before.
This is my promise to a city that offers every dream a person aspires to achive. This is the first time I am not thrilled to head back home. That must say something, right?
I of course miss my family, especially Amelie. I miss the friendly faces. I miss my team.
So, enough with the sappy bullshit. Lets get to the skinny. Lets talk food. I ate my way through the city. Literally. Since I visited New York last, I had compiled a mecca list of establishments and institutions which I held high expectations for. Not all of them where met. Proving my theory that if you really want to know where you stand in your industry, go knock on the doors you admire most. It can be as scary as Billy Mays coming back from the dead, but when you see and touch for yourself, you learn quickly.
I dedicated my first day to discovering southern food in the city. To say that I was not impressed is a compliment to the kitchens I visited. In quoting Ja-Z (with a bit of word tailoring)- I know we are facing a recession, but the food those people are cooking is going to turn it into a great depression.
My first run into mecca started with the Momofuku group. David Chang at the helm of this empire lead me to expect a reservoir of renegade talent. Exactly that was delivered. Ssam bar was a stop worth its walk. My only disappointment was Momofuku’s Milk Bar. You know, crack pie and cereal milks..
The sweets were nothing special, and their stale texture from hanging too long around the shop, stole thunder from the experience.
A day in Brooklyn showed me some of the best deli’s, cheese shops, and hole in the walls I’ve ever been exposed to. Stopped by the meat ball shop on Bedford Avenue. I have no shame in saying that those white boys can cook some mean fucking balls.
Waiting in line for an hour and half at Grimaldi’s – a 71 year old pizza institution, was nostalgic, but unfortunately far from happening. Roberta’s in Williamsburg was dope to say the least. The New York Times blushed like a virgin in a love letter it wrote to them. Not bad for a bunch of hipsters with pizza paddles. Those cooks can put out a mean plate.
In Manhattan, the lights and beautiful women were enough to keep me satisfied, but a growing boy gots to eat. And that I did. Stumbling across Eatily – Mario Batali’s Italian spin on Whole Foods was a treasure of an experience. Besides the bad ass pasta shop and bakery that resided within, there was Manzo. Mario’s take on beef head-to-tail dinning. After an aged “Piemontese” beef carpaccio with fiddle heads, there was a roasted rib eye cap with large couscous. Simple, resourceful and divine. With precision the crew pushed out every plate.
A couple drinks at the Breslin was followed by thrice cooked chips, lamb burgers, and pork fat peanuts. April Bloomsfield is doing it right. Just hopes she closes down John Dory soon. Its becoming a bit of a Broadway embarrassment.
Back underground, shades strapped on through the subway and back up for air in the West Village for Prune. My last lunch in the city. Mind blowing, even more then the food to me, was how tiny the place was. Proving that it is not the size of the pebble that makes a splash, its how hard it is thrown. Food knowledge wins here. Simplicity paired with pristine ingredients. I only hope that the day crew learns to taste the food they prepare. Salt would have been nice.
Many don’t deserve a mention, as they allowed fame to take over quality and their ability to care about the client. Next time I’m in the city I will be harmed with an entirely new list, empty stomach, and as always – open mind. I am not one to judge the purpose of a dish. I concentrate on the flavors and composition. I fully trust the chef to have thought deeply about what they serve, and assume they have conducted each element with purpose and reason. I hope the same kindness is returned to me when I hit the city with a place of my own.
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