Burgers and Bourdain

Burgers and Bourdain
The last two days of subway rides for me have been spent reading Anthony Bourdain's second novel Medium Raw, in which, so far, he comments on how young his views were in Kitchen Confidential, and how he's changed, for the better, with the birth of his daughter and the end of his bad (i.e drug) addictions. He also, of course, talks of food, in a sometimes pornographic (the chapter Lust) and always opinionated way.

My most recently completed chapter was that on the american burger, how most people eat a disgusting combination of random animals parts dosed with drugs to fight the ecoli. Bourdain comments on the new cultural fad of boutique burgers, the all-natural, grass fed, free range meat being served for anywhere between $12 and $26. Bourdain agrees with the idea that we should be eating the all natural stuff, but that everyone should be able to eat it, not just those crammed into high end hip restaurants. There is no need, he said, for the poor of this country not to have access to the same quality meat as those who can afford boutique.

After reading this I, of course, had a hankering for boutique burger, and found is at BareBurger. The restaurant has several locations, mostly in New York, and offers a great variety of grass fed, organic burgers, made out of everything from turkey to bison. I settled, after ordering a six point stout, which was creamy, light in flavor (dark in color), and delicious, I settled on my choice. The blue cheese, bourbon sauteed mushrooms, apple smoked onions, blackened maple bacon, lettuce and apple chutney on a brioche bun set of toppings, which I opted to have on an ostrich burger, a lean cut of meat with subtle flavors that don't fight the many accessories.

In many places, blue cheese on a burger means meager chunks of tasteless calories, hapazardly thrown on a flat patty. At Bareburger, you receive a real slab of smelly, flavorful and familiarly organic blue cheese. The entire burger was great, especially accompanied by the fresh cut fries served with curried ketchup (this I had never had, and must admit to eating the entire container).

The experience was easy and enjoyable, especially finished with the caramel brownie and ice cream with coffee I needed to steady myself before an evening of Sondheim's Follies on broadway, which was appropriately stunning and depressing.

Crate & Barrel

When I moved out of my last college apartment, I packed all my belongings, not neatly, and carefully, as I would hope many did, but haphazardly and quickly, moving out a week after my lease was up. Somewhere in this mess, I packed my italian espresso pot, having never emptied and cleaned it of that last, wonderfully bitter cup. This I did not realize until moving to new york, when my parents offered to bring it down to me at christmas. Suffice to say I received an email later that day from my mother, telling me that even after the two hours of saintly scrubbing my father had put into it, the pot was ruined. They, being the most wonderful parents they are, offered to buy me a new one for christmas, accompanied by a coffee grinder. They gave me the money, thinking I could easily find a replacement in the city. None of us knew how wrong they were.

After scouring all the big name stores: Sax, Macy's, Lord & Taylor, and my personal favorite, Bloomingdales, even searching the high end food stores like Batalli's, there were no classical espresso pots to be found. All were either mechanical or presses. Finally, once obliging gentleman, who found me highly disgruntled and completely lost in the bedding section of L & T suggested I try Crate & Barrel. Here I jump into shopping bliss and of course too many purchases.

This store is bliss. Upon entering I was in absolute retail heaven. The pure space inside the place (60th between Madison and Lex) was awe-inspiring, and the countless gadgets and plates. sigh. I found my espresso pot, with a wonderful bright green coffee grinder, and payed with the money my parents had given me. But how on earth could I stop shopping then? I had just begun to explore this magical world of home-goods! Wondering leisurely through the sections, I found a bowl, with holes in the top to hold your chopsticks, how could I not get this? And of course, I had never realized that I needed a bedside caraf, but at that moment I was absolutely sure I could never survive another night without one. How could I have spent 22 sprawling years without this wonderful piece of glasswork by my pillow, ready to pour me water (or brandy should the evening require it) at any time I awoke from slumber? My journey had almost ended, was almost finished by being 3 feet away from the check out counter, when I spotted the mini food processor. How, I asked myself, how, could I leave without it. My own personal cuisinart, the type I'd seen my mother cherish in her kitchen for decades, and in a mini size that fits perfectly with my cramped new york kitchen!

I couldn't afford any of these things, of course, but I bought them (with the exception of the caraf, I seemed to have a tiny amount of restraint logic left in me) the same, and am not sorry in the least. I'm actually using the bowl (and chopsticks) for soups, and the coffee pots and grinder every morning. While I have yet to use the food processor, I know that the minute my next paycheck comes, and I can afford groceries, there will be berries and bananas and yoghurt wonderfully whirring in it's beautiful mini being.

I just have to wait about a year before returning to the store.

Changes

Screw that. I'm writing from now on about daily life, because there are things that happen, hourly, which fascinate me, and should be recorded somewhere, even if I'm the only one to read them.

Salt & Pepper

Everyone needs them, everyone uses them, cooking would be nothing without them, but when it comes to adding them yourself to a dish prepared for you, it's another story.
My mother taught me that when I ate at someone's house I should always add salt and pepper before the first bite, so that instead of insulting my host and chef, I was simply letting them know this was how I enjoyed my food, no matter what.
When you dine at a restaurant, however, it is different. The chef is usually not present during the sampling of a meal, so one can add or not at will, without fear of insult. At "high dining" establishments, often they will not even put the additives on the table, because they think their food is good enough without them. Although this is usually the case, there are always exceptions. The same holds true for restaurants that do put them out, sometimes they are never touched, the food is just seasoned that well.
Living in New York City, trying to make a career in theatre in dance does not allow me many trips out to dine, so I've decided to save money and treat myself occasionally to a really delicious meal. Here I will attempt to describe them, the ultimate test being whether they needed the addition of salt and pepper or not.