Young & Hungry

Before I jump into Secondo or the main course, I want to take a snack break to discuss the new Italian megastore right smack in the middle of Manhattan, Eataly.  As I sit here after a long day of “advanced pasta” eating the winnings of my savory shopping spree, I wonder if this is really what Nonna had in mind?

 

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Welcome to New York.  “Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life.”  They do say NYC is the city of opportunity don’t they?   I can’t think of anyplace that contains such a diverse range of offerings in anything and everything your heart desires.  In conjunction with the start of “the rest of my life” I finally began reading the book “Setting the Table” by Danny Meyer, which I received on my last birthday.  For those that don’t already know, Danny Meyer is the NY restaurateur who started such popular joints as Union Square Café, Gramercy Tavern, and Shake Shack, among others when he decided to renovate his career here in the big apple (& abroad) like yours truly.  In his book, Meyer explains the importance of hospitality in the restaurant business stating that “nothing is as important as how one is made to feel in a business transaction”.  I find this to be an interesting business philosophy in one of the least hospitable places I’ve ever visited, but one learns early in business school that differentiation is the key to success.  I can’t help but agree with Meyer’s perspective, being myself hesitant to get involved in the more high-falutin and competitive restaurant scene, but if you and your employees can harness the power to run your business for the customer you might maintain the proper motivation for entering the industry.  I have yet to mark any of his restaurants off my list, but you better believe they’re all on there and that I’ll be paying each a visit with the book and his strategies fresh in my memory.

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Goodbye corporate life and ciao culinary school!  Parting is such sweet sorrow, but the menu of opportunities presented by my current line of work needs a serious makeover.  How does one go about a menu makeover?  While I’m hoping that is something I’ll soon learn, I’d imagine you can either hire an entirely new chef or you can put in extra hours of experimentation, education, and dedication.  I, being stuck with myself, have opted for the latter and will be trading in my stiletto heels and sultry skirts for an apron and scrubs in exactly one month’s time.  Come July, you can find me, my appetite, and I at the Italian Culinary Academy (sister of the French Culinary Institute) in New York City.  Fall will see me soaking up the “sauce” from my ancestors in Parma, Italy and come winter I hope to head South (Puglia perhaps), spending the majority of my time in a warm kitchen, and putting my new skills to good use. 

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Drinking wine in Argentina is not like drinking wine in the United States, choking down Boones Farm when you’re underage, or venturing out for your first real tasting in Napa Valley.  Drinking wine in Argentina is a much more personal experience, standing on the land where the grapes have survived a century, and introductions made by the family whose name is printed on the bottle.  You drink wine with lunch in Argentina, sitting outside in the South American sun, and eventually you prefer that to your customary glass after a long day’s work or with dinner.  After dinner comes bedtime, but after lunch comes the more indulgent siesta.  Made even sweeter by the vino downed with your rib eye an hour prior.  No café necessary.  Just a nap.

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Good morning you little porteno you.  Time to rise, shine, and hit the closest confiteria for your morning jolt and medialunas.  The real players will order un cafe which is very similar to our espresso, but us gringos won’t be too frowned upon for ordering something with less of a kick like a café con leche.  Just don’t mess with their futbol games, speaking of which, you should not attend without a guide.  Back to breakfast, many confiterias have morning specials which include one of the aforementioned hot beverages sans sugary syrups and specials instructions like half caf/no foam you hear in your local Starbuck’s, 3 medialunas or croissants which come dulce (sweet) or salado (salty, but really just not sweet), and the most curious shot glasses of agua con gas (blah) and jugo de naranja (OJ) that surely just whet your appetite for more.  The medialunas, on the other hand, are huge, fluffy, and abundant so bring a friend if you don’t want to return home looking like one.  For the Egg McMuffin lover in all of you, the closest you’re going to come is a tortilla or jamon, queso, and huevo cocido sandwich (jam, cheese, and hard boiled egg), so I suggest you get on the boat or head to one of the many EXTREMELY NICE McDonald’s McCafes in the city.  As much as I don’t want to admit that I traveled 5,000 miles to go to a McDonald’s, we were momentarily hypnotized into entering the café with its four level pastry case, real glass serving ware, and pretty box of macarons which I knew I just must try for Katy’s sake.  Let me tell you, I’m not the young hungry macaron connoisseur, but I’d pay a dollar for their pretty little yellow dulce de leche cookies any day. 

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The forwarded email casually suggested I might be interested. My IMMEDIATE response screamed “Yes, please!” And thank you for the information, of course. So began our investigation into what will soon be the American Idol of cooking shows. Master Chef is a new series modeled after the shows now airing in Australia and London. The Fox series, however, will star Gordon Ramsey and contain local talent which they’ve spent the last month scouring the US to find. Obviously, Katy attended the casting call in Dallas and I attended in Atlanta. Hopefully it’s not so obvious that neither of us have received a call back, but I’m hoping that’s just because they have not yet realized what fabulous television the two of us dueling it out in the kitchen would make…

Alas, after completing a 12 page application and a lot of planning, experimenting, and waiting we have heard nothing. Not that the experience itself wasn’t totally worthwhile. I can say that because I made my way through the doors 2 hours later and right before the sky opened up in a not so nice wintry rain. Those merely arriving on-time were not so lucky, yet I concede that anything done while holding a fresh & hand delivered Starbuck’s Misto is not completely intolerable. In line I heard stories of casting calls past, favorite restaurants, and meals, soon to be plated and presented to the judges. Once we entered the Viking School all chatter was silenced by nerves until we were ushered into a station to plate and present. Honestly, I fumbled, jittery from the cold and coffee. I managed to get my stuffed squid to look appealing enough, however, raised my hand, and did my best to woo the Casting Director and Fox Newscaster who would determine my fate. Although I failed to notice, I was told the cameras were on me during my interview so if nothing else perhaps I’ll at least make the first episode! And, of course, this original dish for you!

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In our modern day society technology and mass production has, perhaps, made food too “fast” and readily available.  Gone are the days when people ate to fill a need, an actual hunger; we now eat to fill our desires, mostly emotional.  I am guilty as charged, but a recent trip to Aspen Colorado reminded me that the food we eat serves a purpose.  It’s our bodies’ fuel, without which we cannot “run” or sit at our desks all day, be it as it may… 

 

 

 

I watch in wonder as my more athletic friends strive to obtain the correct protein to carb ratio for their big run, opting myself for a different sort of carb load, that will remain undisclosed, for my own ammo…  The fuel we “pump” into ourselves, however, should match energy expended and it should be composed of the proper nutrients necessary to maintain good health.  It’s quite simple really.  This is not to say that I will cease to dine out for the pleasure associated with old friends and new tastes, and it’s certainly not to say that I will stop overindulging for curiosities sake.  But I do hope to take with me a big dose of organic, farm fresh, 6 grain, Rocky Mountain wisdom and remember that when the need is unavoidable, as it is for these extreme athletes, you will and must adhere.

 
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Today’s topic is unrequited love and the act of giving love freely no matter what the rate of return.  I challenge you to ask yourself if true love includes expectations?  Does the real deal love come with circumstances and qualifiers?  Does it go away if it’s not equally reciprocated, or if it’s not tested, held in court or over the other person’s head? And does it not exist if you don’t say it?  If you don’t share it?  What’s the point of stifled love left to tarnish and mold until it is no good to anybody, especially the beholder.  Love is not a business case my friends, you cannot keep a neat and balanced scorecard with internal and external performance measures and strategies.  We are too calculating.  Love is messy, it requires paper towels, it is constantly tipping the scale and is not always equally embraced. 

 

This is a concept that has been debated amongst friends as of late, but let us take a minute to turn this theory to something besides the opposite sex.  There are other things we love dearly without having to cross the line into the realm of animism and objectum sexuality*…  People love sports, diamonds, cars, cities, Twinkies, grill pans and I imagine there’s somebody out there that loves just about everything you can think of, stinky tofu included.  And, not all things are loving beings, despite what the animists say.  So why can’t we get the same joy from loving people unconditionally that we do from, say, a get away to New York City?

 

Katy and I generally spend at least a month planning our yearly girls’ weekend trip North.  We waste idle hours anxiously anticipating the sights, sounds, and tastes of the city that never sleeps.  Upon arrival, lists of carefully researched boutiques, candy shops, ethnic finds, and itineraries are practically burning holes through our favorite designer purses and hours later the rickety cobblestones are burning holes through our flip flopped feet. 

 
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Yay for summer and all its accoutrements!  It’s not even national ice cream month yet and already 2 free scoops or 3 depending on how much advantage you took of the situation…

Here’s another for you and those steamy all American firefighters!