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| FORK PLAY December 16, 2010
Bonus Onus. Ciano Longings. Donatella. Grapenuts Gather. Gift for Your Eyes.
Dear Friends and Family,
I found it obscene to talk of avoiding a big tax hit on Wall Street and the top bank's huge bonuses when so many Americans are still jobless after six months; for some, a year or more. On the same day last week that the government reported a jump in the unemployment rate to 9.8, the Times ran a column about companies anxiously discussing how best to time their annual megabuckanal. "At stake is a portion of the hefty annual payouts that are a familiar part of the compensation culture on Wall Street, as well as a juicy target of popular anger," wrote Louise Story and Gretchen Morgenson. Next day the debate was moot as it seemed tax cuts for the wealthy were getting a renewed lease on life. "Pass the caviar, darling."
I am still troubled. Aren't you? Surely among this season's well-greased earners must be some who believe the gulf between themselves and an unemployed engineer or outsourced executive is indeed obscene. How to feel better? Adopt a jobless family.
I tweeted my musings in 140 counts on Twitter: "I wish someone would organize top Wall Street and banking brass to each adopt a jobless family." Where to find a family? Go to a job seminar and pick out a needy candidate or let the Times 100 neediest cases guide you. Pick up the rent bill to stave off eviction, maybe college tuition for a year. Use your connections to help a laid-off man or woman get a job. Or both. What do they lack? A smart resume? A haircut? A slightly worn suit? Shoes that scream "confident?" Maybe there's an out of style Chanel jacket in your closet. Restore the cell phone they had to turn off. Give some personal coaching. Tutor the kids. It could be a family project. Encourage your children to send books and toys to your adopted family. Great learning moment. (Good for the college application.)
I can't take up this cause as much as I believe in it because I need my time for Citymeals-on-Wheels. Is there someone out there who will step up to find the first golden bonus baby willing to make a commitment?
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Swiss chard is not my favorite vegetable but I love the colors - so here they are today in today's Fork Play. The photo below shows FoodParc dramaturg Eddie Schoenfeld with the most exquisitely sublime little rabbit shaped shrimp dumplings sent as a surprise to my birthday potluck by Red Farm's dim sum master Joe Ng.
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The Chef Eats
Michael White took a morning off from whipping up his latest new venture of the season, Ai Fiori, to take a seat at the annual private lunch and wine tipple hosted by longtime friends of mine, two notoriously old world winos and incurable collectors. The wines were grand. They always are. Bob and Joel cherry pick their cellars. Wine merchants, writers and sommelier pals often arrive with something interesting in hand. Something old, rare, "out of print," newly discovered.
Of course I'm thrilled to sip Corton Charlemagne, Chevalier-Montrachet, prestigious Volnays, Lynch Bages, Guard La Rose, wines I once drank before prices climbed into triple digits on restaurant lists. I agree this is dancing on the edge in a merciless economy. Indeed, a few at the table had been laidoff as well and like me, were enjoying the spoils of affluence.
But in between swirlings and sips, I found myself even more intoxicated by the sensuous pairings from the kitchen. The daring juxtaposition of a firm tendril of lightly cured yellowtail with a square of sublime foie gras - aristocratic surf and turf thrilling my mouth. Granola-like crumbles of cranberry and oats were superfluous but forgivable. The turbot that came next was nothing special - just wild Holland turbot.
But the poached egg on polenta cream with white truffles and a bit of marsala ragu had both me and Drew Nieporent on my left gasping. The veal agnolotti was a thriller too:  Dainty little packages, delicate, almost like silk, with veal ragu and sweetbreads inside, and floating in the sauce as well, luscious globular chunks of sweetbread. It was a triumph for Marea's chef de cuisine Jared Gadbaw, who sweated over every mirepoix to produce explosions of texture for the king of over-the-top, his boss. "I don't often get to cook for Michael," he said.
I fought to keep my head from falling into the keyboard all afternoon.
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Loving Ciano
Shea Gallante was just another chef to me. I ate once at Cru when he was making waves in the kitchen. I don't remember a single dish I ate. I'm only here at Ciano very early on because I struck out trying to reserve for dinner before 9:30 pm at a trio of new hot spots. The dining room is warm and cozy. We could be in some Tuscan town between Florence and Siena.
Then the bread arrives with ricotta-truffle butter. The crusty green olive chunk and rich focaccia in the bread basket taste fresh from the o ven. I never use butter or olive oil on my bread but I'm wild about this tangy butter blend. I'm smearing it on, again and again, when the rock shrimp polpette arrive. I know we didn't order crostini, but here they are, luscious with whipped chicken liver mousse, crab under spicy sopressata, and roasted peppers on tomato jam. Well, maybe the kitchen was a bit discombobulated on my second visit but click here to find out why I can't wait to return. 45 East 22nd Street between Broadway and Park Avenue South.
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Donatella Trims Sail
Before there was Donatella the Brand, there was Donatella the Woman, obedient old world Italian daughter and serious restaurateur, an odd mix of vulnerability and drive in a beautiful New York woman. But I don't twist myself into a pretzel analyzing what fuels Danny Meyer or Jean-Georges Vongerichten, so maybe I'll just give Donatella Arpaia a break. There's no need to run through the roster of chef-partners who kissed and got away. If you don't already know, you needn't really care. She's still in the race, though she's dumbed down her goals for now since the chichi heat of David Burke and Donatella and the sophisticated ambitions of Dona and Anthos.
The goods news is that the new Donatella in Chelsea is  much more than just another Neapolitan pizzeria surrounding a bar, as it sounded in early hype. You may actually find La Arpaia roving this long narrow room packed with the young, sharing a decent pizza and excellent fried calamari with lemon bottarga aioli or a huge platter of salad, perhaps bitter greens with anchovy vinaigrette and crispy pork belly. Click here to see what you want to order. 184 Eighth Avenue between 19th and 20th Streets.
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A Gift for Your Eyes
My guy, the Road Food Warrior, Steven Richter, gets many compliments for his food and restaurant photographs on  InsatiableCritic. And I agree. He is heroic to capture what we can barely see, mostly in the dark of Manhattan's shadowy restaurants. But in his real life, he is a street photographer, wandering in markets and along unpaved paths, capturing street life wherever we travel. Click here to see a sample. His limited edition prints from Venice, India, Vietnam and Paris are vivid, sometimes mysterious, and especially beautiful printed on watercolor paper. As Richter describes them, "The prints are digital, scanned from my beloved Kodachrome, and printed on fine rag paper. The versatility of the ink jet process on this stock gives the work its richness and presence."
Now through the end of January he is selling all framed prints for the price of the print alone. The larger size from an edition of 20: paper size 31" x 43," image si ze 24" x 36" is $2400 framed or unframed. The smaller size from an edition of 40: paper size 19" x 25," image size 12" x 18" is $1200. One or two prints would make perfect holiday or email Steven Richter.
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Photographs of Eddie Schoenfeld with Joe Ng's rabbit dumplings, Ciano's casarecce pasta, Donatella's pizza, the mountain woman at Bac Ha market, and the sunrise over Angkor Wat cannot be used without permission from Steven Richter.
The photo of agnolotti with sweetbreads at Marea cannot be used without permission from Gael Greene.
Fork Play copyright Gael Greene 2010.
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