Mouthing Off

I’ve been continuing my search for the perfect wine bar and was thrilled when I learned a few weeks ago that the owners behind the hidden Upper East Side gem, Erminia, would be opening a wine bar up the street. I imagined it would echo the intimate feel of the restaurant, but Café Notte is a large 21,000 square foot room that is part restaurant, part wine bar, part coffee house. It even offers a children’s menu. Only three weeks old, its wine and food menu are still limited and a lot wasn’t available when a friend and I visited opening night. Our bartender was extremely helpful with wine suggestions and I was intrigued to learn that the design is eco-friendly.

While not new, Vero Panini & Wine Bar has become my new favorite cheap eats place. Every Monday you get a free panini when you purchase any alcoholic beverage. My favorite so far is the salty-sweet combo of prosciutto, black mission fig and gorgonzola with a glass of Rancho Zabaco Zin. Vero also has the best trashy dessert I have yet to encounter in NYC: The Cookie Monster, an enormous, warm chocolate chip cookie not quite baked through the middle that is topped with whip cream and strawberries. When the bartender told me he wakes in the night dreaming of the Cookie Monster and wanting to come open the bar I believed him – it’s that good!

After nearly a month of wine bar hopping I’d made some fantastic discoveries but nothing that rivaled Gottino…until last Saturday. I met friends at Felice Wine Bar, a new uptown spot that perhaps Williams’ would even appreciate despite the “wine bar” in its name. The brick-walled space has just the right amount of tables and super-comfy, extra-large cushioned bar stools. Although the room was packed the atmosphere still felt laid back and relaxed. That downtown vibe can no doubt be attributed to the fact that the owners of Sant Ambroeus are partial owners here and Felice also shares the same chef and wine buyer. I decided upon a toothsome bowl of risotto though all of the entrees sounded appealing and I know I’ll be back to share small plates with friends. The well-priced wine list includes bottles from partner Jacopo Giustiniani’s Tuscan vineyard (the Vermentino was beautifully crisp) and I loved that the bartenders always offered a small taste before pouring a glass.

And just when I felt like I had a thorough hold of New York’s wine bar scene I get a call from Patrick Watson, owner of Smith & Vine wine shop and the great cheese and specialty food store Stinky BKLYN http://www.stinkybklyn.com/: He’s opening a new wine bar this month. My pursuit for the ultimate wine bar seems to have just begun.

This Sunday, to my great sorrow, once again the Washington Redskins will not be playing in the Super Bowl. Unable to get past this unfortunate turn of events, I've been distracting myself with thoughts on a menu. Michael Ruhlman has a really fun story in this month's issue about F&W 1998 Best New Chef Michael Symon's Cleveland Super Bowl party. We had a lovely time testing Symon's Mojito Jell-O Shots, and I ate far too much of his pork cheek chili: Rich with black-eyed peas, it's particularly good with a dollop of sour cream.

But with all due respect to the Next Iron Chef, I'd really like to drown my sorrows in a bowl of chili from the Washington, D.C. restaurant Ben's Chili Bowl. Or better yet, a chili dog and chili fries. I can't wait till August, when the Redskins can break my heart once again, and, arguably more important, Ben's celebrates its 50th anniversary. As I first heard from devoted DC diner Don Rockwell, in addition to holding a Bill-Cosby-hosted gala at next door's Lincoln Theatre, the landmark restaurant—still owned by Ben Ali and his wife, Virginia—is planning to expand. Ali's sons Kamal, 45, and Nizam, 37, have bought the neighboring building, and hope to open Ben's first-ever bar. They are giving serious thought to a Ben's microbrew, and are also talking about serving frozen drinks (may I suggest, beer slushies?). Next year, when the Skins finally do break their 17-year drought and get into the Super Bowl, that's where I'd like to be.

Traditionally during celebrations of the Cambodian New Year, in mid-April, a dessert of coconut-y sticky rice-covered banana, either steamed or grilled in banana leaf, is served. Even though I don't have much of a sweet tooth, I crave it all year long. For this New Year's Eve, instead of making the wraps, I'll make a different,  super-simple Cambodian dessert that my mother taught me over the Christmas holiday. It has the a same oozy, coconut-y sweetness of the wraps—but it takes a whole lot less time and effort.

Sweet Coconut Rice Cake
Makes 12 servings
2 cups uncooked sticky rice (also known as glutinous rice)
2 14-ounce cans unsweetened coconut milk
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon shredded coconut
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
pinch of salt

In a medium, two-quart bowl, soak rice in enough water to submerge it by an inch. Drain water after two hours. In another medium bowl, whisk coconut milk, sugar and salt. In a large pot, combine rice and coconut milk mixture over high heat, and bring to a boil, about eight minutes. Reduce the heat to moderate, stirring occasionally, until there’s no more liquid, about 12 minutes. Spread out evenly on a 13-inch by nine-inch rectangular pan. Sprinkle shredded coconut and sesame seeds. Let cake cool slightly before cutting into squares and serving.

The Beaujolais Nouveau arrived last Thursday. For oenophiles, this is about as exciting as news that Wonderbread has a new variety of white sandwich loaf. The stuff tastes like fermented rasberry fruit punch, in its best years. So I caught some grief when I told friends and colleagues that I'd used up one of my eight nights in Paris last week going from wine bar to wine bar celebrating its release. But between the excellent Beaujolais accordion music at Au Vin des Rues, to the impromptu brass band playing outside La Cave des Papilles around the corner, the crawl was a blast. And what's more, led to some of the best food of the trip. Granted, the national strike kept me from having lunch at Le Comptoir du Relais, but I wonder if even Yves Camdeborde could have made a better sandwich of jambon à l'os, beurre salé and cornichons on baguette as the one Au Vin des Rues was serving. The ham was so meaty, the butter so sweet, the baguette so perfectly crunchy yet soft, it almost made the nouveau taste delicious.

Last week, the New York Times alerted us to a health hazard that could change the fate of the city’s drink-makers (and drink-takers): It’s a severe health code violation for a bartender to touch a fruit garnish—say, a wedge of lime for a Corona, or a lemon twist for a martini—with unprotected hands before adding it to a customer’s drink. What’s a bartender to do, the writer asks. Use gloves? Tongs? A fork? He and his interviewees test-drive these alternate fruit-squeezing approaches, and hilarity ensues.

But seriously, should I be worried? Will my next Old-Fashioned taste oddly of latex? Will my next beer end up in my lap, thanks to a clumsy Edward Tonghands? Of course not. This kind of “violation” is so rarely enforced that, when it is, the Times writes a story. (The same goes for bare-hand-in-the-kitchen violations: When’s the last time you heard of a top-tier chef getting slapped with a fine for plating food with naked fingers?)

But maybe Corona could capitalize on this conundrum by inventing a device that helps a bartender get the lime inside the bottle without endangering his customers. Oh, wait: They already did.

I love having an excuse to call Dave Arnold, because it means the conversation will eventually turn to his newest piece of repurposed lab equipment and, ultimately, cocktails. Earlier today I called Arnold to talk about steam ovens (for an upcoming story), but we were soon discussing his latest find: a secondhand centrifuge. I guessed it was for clarifying soups or sauces (think of all the consommés!). Nope: It’s for drinks. “I’m going to use it to clarify juices for carbonated cocktails,” he said. (There are two things you quickly learn about Dave: He likes his liquid crystal-clear and full of bubbles.) Clear liquids are easier to carbonate, which will come in handy should his plans for opening a R&D-driven cocktail bar (think house-carbonated wines and spirits, liquid nitrogen-chilled drinks, unthinkable infusions) with pastry chef Johnny Iuzzini come to fruition. But for now, Arnold will concentrate on spinning his gin-and-tonics to perfection.

Our discerning features intern Nick Pandolfi complained that living a bit off the beaten path in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, he couldn’t get a classic Sazerac cocktail or the perfect Manhattan without taking the train into the city. Last week he came to the office with exciting news about a hot new cocktail spot in Brooklyn. His report:
 
On October 1st, Brooklyn’s cocktail scene changed when Stephanie Schneider and Andrew Bogs, both alums of the Danny Meyer empire, opened Huckleberry Bar on Grand and Lorimer Sts. in East Williamsburg. The two masters behind the bar began working together in 2001 at Blue Smoke.  Stephanie moved on to Jean Georges and then Hearth, and Andy spent some time bartending at Village.  Last year the pair decided it was finally time to branch out on their own and bring all the skills they'd picked up along the way back to their Brooklyn neighborhood.

Unlike most of its classy predecessors - Pegu Club, Little Branch,  PDT - Huckleberry Bar seems a little out of place surrounded by the discount fabric stores and bodegas that have been on the block for decades.  But Stephanie and Andy knew it was time for a place like Huckleberry Bar.  It was a risk, but so far it’s been successful.  Hopefully, they are forging a path that other entrepreneurial bartenders will follow.
    
The pair's cocktail menu is divided into two sections: classics and seasonal creations, like the Emma Frost: a perfectly balanced combination of Makers Mark, Crème de Peche and Lapsang Souchong tea.

Since winter has arrived a little early, they’ve added their arsenal of hot cocktails to the list this week. And they were generous enough to share one of the recipes.  Stephanie and Andy’s version of a traditional hot buttered rum uses vanilla and allspice-infused Cuban rum (which we couldn’t get our hands on at F&W, so we had to improvise). Dissolved palm sugar adds a bit of a Caribbean kick.

Huckleberry Bar’s Hot Buttered Rum

2 oz. allspice and vanilla bean infused rum (let half a vanilla bean and one teaspoon of lightly crushed allspice berries infuse with a cup of rum for two hours)
3/4 oz. melted unsalted butter
2 Tbs palm sugar
6 oz. almost boiling water

My friend Katherine is a bit of a wild child. So she got a kick out of the fact that we celebrated her birthday last weekend over dinner in Boston’s old Charles Street Jail. After five years of renovations, the historic prison that once held famous inmates like James Michael Curley and Sacco and Vanzetti, and was eventually closed after a U.S. District Court deemed it unfit for prisoners, has been transformed into The Liberty Hotel – a super stylish boutique property that opened last month. I have to admit I was expecting hokey prison themed decor, but was surprised by the tasteful mix of original 19th century fixtures (exposed brick walls, catwalk planks, iron barred doors and windows) and contemporary design (enormous wrought iron chandeliers, murals of purple trees and thistle patterned wallpaper reminiscent of designs from Timorous Beasties). 

After making jokes about the restaurant name, CLINK, and the waiters' uniforms (each has a prison number on his or her shirt) we found ourselves unexpectedly wowed by a delicious meal. I was impressed by what chef Isadora Sarto (she spent five years working with Daniel Boulud) turned out of her open kitchen, especially when I learned that because the building is a national historic landmark Sarto has to cook her entire menu on electric stoves and induction heat. Everything is meant for sharing and the wine comes in three unusual tasting sizes: a half glass, one and one-half glasses; and two-thirds of a bottle. We nibbled our way through the dangerously addictive “smackerjacks” – truffled caramel popcorn dusted with smoked sea salt - and crispy fried pork cracklins that had a bit of a kick from lime and Thai basil. Our waiter told us the Liberty Ale-battered Ipswich clams were the best he’d ever had - and he grew up on the Cape. We agreed, and ordered seconds. The caramelized brussels sprouts with bacon lardons won over Kat, who insisted she hated the “little green cabbages,” and our main course, espresso braised shortribs, was so rich and flavorful it left us both in a delightful, gluttonous food haze, which we tried to shake off while watching the Red Sox game at the hotel lounge.

Run by Boston nightclub king Patrick Lyons, the lounge is aptly named Alibi and mug shots of stars like Frank Sinatra hang from the walls. Each photo is labeled with a legal charge (Sinatra's was adultery) and alibi of the accused (Frank said: “The broad was into it.”) The line to get in that night wrapped around the block, a sign that the new concept is filling a gap in the Boston social scene. I can only imagine what will happen when Boston culinary legend Lydia Shire opens her new Adam Tihany-designed restaurant, tentatively called Scampo, at the hotel's street level later this year.

Had the opportunity recently to check out a couple of new New York wine bars, Accademia di Vino and Casellula. Accademia qualifies as one of those places I'd like to have enjoyed more than I did, given that ‘Cesca chef Kevin Garcia is behind the food, and it sports a hefty, 500-bottle, all-Italian wine list. But, the night I was there at least, they'd run out of both my first choices (white and red) off the somewhat less impressive by-the-glass list, and the charcuterie sampler, while pleasant enough, was pretty skimpy for the price ($14 for three types, all served in very modest amounts). Hm. I'd be inclined to give the place a second chance, except that I'd rather just hedge my bets and go to Casellula.

Casellula, which opened a month or two ago, is the brainchild of Brian Keyser, formerly head cheese-guru (fromager to the Francophiles out there) at The Modern, along with co-proprietor Joe Farrell and chef Jenise Addison. The focus in this tiny but somehow spacious-feeling room on 52nd at 9th is cheese. And wine. And that's a fine focus for a wine bar, I'd say. The wine list leans towards esoterica-I had a surprisingly polished, robust Hugarian red, the Vylyan Mini-Evolution, which blends Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Zweigelt, Kekoporto, and Cabernet Franc to nice effect. (It also gives one the chance to ingest some Kekoporto, something that few of us get to do on a regular basis.) The cheeses were equally intriguing and perfectly ripe. If I'd had my brain with me, I would've written down the three I had, but apparently I was waylaid by brain-thieves on my way over or something. In any case, the cheese menu changes regularly. And what do you need my recollections for, anyway? The best thing to do is simply head there soon and order, as I did, with reckless cheese-frenzied abandon.

Greatest new trend in specialty-foods retailing (are you reading, Whole Foods?): bulk salt bar.

Ken Liss is full of good ideas. There was his idea to leave his academic-administration job to study cheese at Artisanal here in New York, which proved to be pretty sharp. Then there was his notion to open a serious artisanal-cheese store in Minneapolis; his Premier Cheese Market just celebrated its one-year anniversary this month. Liss’s cheese and whisky pairings are pretty clever, too (a particular favorite of his: Tobermory 10-year Scotch with Isle of Mull cheddar. The two taste so delicious together because the cows munch on spent barley from the Tobermoy distillery). But his best idea: listening to his then-employee Shannon Perry when she suggested installing a salt bar.

 I love the idea of flavored salts, and would love to use more of them, but, unlike my salt-collecting colleague Nick Fauchald, I don’t have the shelf space or the budget to commit to entire jars of it. My international-honey collection is too big as it is. The bulk salt bar is perfect: airtight jars of artisanal varieties, available for tasting and for sale by the pound. At Liss’s shop you can load up on any of 10 types, from sulfury Indian Kala Namak black salt and clay-tinted Alaea Hawaiian sea salt to Bolivian rose salt rocks and Salish alder-wood-smoked salt from the Pacific Northwest. He also sells salt bowls, salt trays and salt grinders.

For more on Ken’s cheese offerings, see our fantastic story by Laura Werlin on what’s happening in American cheese in our upcoming November issue. But now, can someone please start a salt bar here in New York?