FORK PLAY: December 18, 2007
Eating in the dark. About Bread. An Ode to Murray. Discovering Buca di Bacco. Great Christmas Gifts.
Dear Friends and Family,
Imagine sipping a great red wine blindfolded when you've got a cold. Like great sex, great eating and drinking wants all the senses in play. What can an architect be thinking when she or he designs rooms so shadowy you can't see the food? Or is it the restaurateur who turns down the dimmer in a misguided search for atmosphere? What's the  point of all those stylish dribbles and dabs on the plate if they fade into a grayish blob in the murk. No joke. We bought headlamps and will be wearing them.
Thy Daily Bread
And bread.. at this advanced stage in New York's glorious bread renaissance, how can a restaurateur accept anything less than really good bread? Want it crusty and dense? Yes, of course. Want it yeasty and chewy? Oh, please. A sturdy whole grain option? Definitely. Onion-strewn and cakey? Okay. Even supermarkets have first rate bread these days. So how can a supposedly serious restaurateur serve crusted cotton blobs.
Celebrating Murray Klein
Murray Klein was a man who knew from bread. It was his idea to bring great breads from bakeries all across town to Zabar's, the store that seemed to be his mistress and his life. Murray's death two weeks ago at 84 inspired me to dig up the vintage New York article that captures his style and passion, Zabar's: Valhalla á la Murray Klein. I've posted it in Vintage Insatiables. That's Murray above with a tin of caviar, object of his fiercest battle with Macy's.
In the Mouth of Bacchus
Always on the prowl in our Neolithic pursuits, I sometimes drag my dinner pals to the depths of disappointment. I lost all hope last Saturday night at that spot on West 46th St. when I saw the painting on velvet and warmed cottony bread in a napkin cocoon. And the few tapas we dared had us quickly plotting our next move. Roberto Passon's new wine bar, Buca di Bacco on 9th Avenue was close enough and new -- a total gamble too.
"I can tell by the look of the bread, this is going to be good," said our pal, wine maven Josh Wesson.
Well the first-rate bread was stale, cut too far ahead that evening, but the dishes we shared were all very good, and gently priced. I almost hate giving this happy find away. But of course, I do. I always do
Life After Bouley
The Bouley Restaurant veterans behind Bar Blanc want it to look elegant and glamorous and it does: a black and white domino frame for Chef César Ramirez's ambitious and flavorful melding of global flavors. That rich combination is not at all what you expect to find parked where it is off Greenwich Avenue in the Village. (Of course, yet another Bouley-prepped chef runs the aspiring kitchen at Smith's not far away on MacDougal.)
Is It Lunch or Is It Porn?
A constant reader emailed asking if I'd noticed that not one of the cookbook's reviewed in last Wednesday's Times appear on my gift book list. Taste is in the mouth of the beholder, as they say. My list is so personal, a guide for pleasing the gourmand voyeur or the insatiable collector. I did like but didn't list Sweet Myrtle, Bitter Honey: The Mediterranean Flavors of Sardinia by Efisio Ferris (Rizzoli $39.95) reviewed by Anne Mendelson for the Times. I don't feel even a tiny urge to cook Sardinian and maybe it's impossible without certain arcane local ingredients (though I am sure a determined cook could find the essential grape must in New York). But I'd like the malloreddus pasta with ricotta and bottarga pictured on the cover for lunch right now. Rather, the author's reveries of  childhood and the photographs made me hungry to visit Sardinia. I am keeping it as a travel guide.
The Eye Knows
I have been getting positive feedback on the photographs that stud the Insatiable Critic site like colored jewels. Most of these illustrations of shadowy dining rooms and irresistible pizzas are taken quickly with a small digital camera by the Road Food Warrior, my guy, Steven Richter. But his real work, photographs from streets and markets where we've traveled together -- brilliant color images printed on water color paper -- would make great gifts for gourmand travelers, collectors, or yourself. Email him for more information or an appointment.
The Gift That Delivers Joy All Winter
It's so easy to eat and drink too much in December. I have given myself permission for unbridled excess until January 2. If there is fruit cake or good pannetone left in my house on January 2 I will finish it. (I hope you won't stop trusting me because I have admitted I love fruit cake.)
I feel less guilt about any excess since I started raising money for Citymeals-on-Wheels to help feed the city's frail needy homebound 25 years ago. This year, with the city's population of people in their 80's and 90's higher than ever, the frailty that comes with very old age, and an increase of $1 in the price of each meal we deliver, I gave an extra generous donation myself. I hope you will too. As we have always promised, your gift will go only for preparing and delivering meals. Not a quarter will be taken out for a phone call or a stamp.
When you feel the rush of positive energy and fulfillment that comes from feeding hungry neighbors not far from where you live or work, your own holiday time will become more loving and meaningful.
Truly, Gael
P.S.
I am looking for a foodie intern, plus a reporter who can pursue news and gossip for my new Short Order column, as well as writers who want their short essays or reviews published on Insatiable Critic. See Drat That Rat by Sylvie Bigar
Email me.
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