Dee Davis

Some Things Just Aren’t Meant to Be

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So I just got back from a flying visit to DC.  Among other things we had really good Mexican food (twice, but that’s a story I’ve already told over at The Whine Sisters)  And that somehow lead to a conversation about finding Tex-Mex in the city.  And at the time we smugly answered that although initially we dispaired of finding anything even remotely authentic, we wound up stumbling across a great little place on 53rd that was owned by a fellow Texan.  A divey little place it was our go to  for a greasy Tex-Mex fix.   So this weekend, we headed out, mouths watering-dreaming of queso and margaritas.  But what we found was a completely new menu.  All of it fat-free and lo carb.  Seriously, in a Mexican restaurant.

Now I’m all for eating healthy. And I’m the first to admit that I should do better.  But when I go out to eat I do not need the “Carb” police.   And especially not at a Tex-Mex restaurant where flour and corn tortillas are the staple of the menu.  So needless to say, hearts broken, we left our once wonderful hole in the wall, and desperate, headed for another place nearby that we often passed but had never tried.

Turns out for good reason.

This restaurant is located in the basement of a building in a row of three restuarants that it turns out are all hooked together.  But by the time that we realized that the Mexican restuarant was actually also a Mediterranean and Chinese restaurant, it was too late.  Really, really too late.  The food was not even remotely Mexican.  Seriously, except for the, thankfully, full carb chips, it was pretty much like eating frozen food straight from the grocery.  The salsa was tomato soup with a few peppers.  And the enchaladas were lost underneath the grated lettuce and drizzled sour cream.   While everything was edible, it was nothing even remotely like anything I’d ever eaten in either Texas or New Mexico.  And frankly I suspect nothing like anything southwestern on either side of the border.

There was also no liquor license–so the dream of a margarita vanished along with my desire for yummy greasy lick the plate Tex-Mex.

Lesson learned–no more experimenting.  We’ll just make do with the lovely interior Mexican places and save the good stuff for when we next head home.

If you know of a great place to get Tex-Mex in Manhattan–please let me know–we’re desperate!

Daring- Release Day!

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DARING….

As the former medical officer for A-Tac, an elite CIA unit masquerading as faculty at an Ivy League college, Lara Prescott saved many lives. But the memory of the one person she couldn’t save has brought her back into harm’s way—and into the sights of a formidable adversary . . .

NOWHERE IS SAFE

Lara thought working a world away would heal her. Yet volunteering to treat the sick and injured in revolution-torn central Africa can’t stop the shattering memories of losing the man she loved. A night with sexy security officer Rafe Winters seems the perfect temporary escape—until insurgents attack her clinic and Rafe becomes her only way to survive . . .

Rafe knows all too well that this beautiful young doctor is the insurgents’ real target: her knowledge of America’s espionage system makes her a valuable prize. Helping her flee jeopardizes his hidden agenda—but her unexpected trust in him sparks a desire to protect that he can’t ignore. Now as their merciless pursuers close in, Rafe and Lara’s only chance for escape will put everything they’ve sworn to protect—and their newfound love—on the line . . .

Perfect Saturday Morning

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Being in Manhattan there are loads of things to do on a Saturday morning. Not the least of them being to grab a bagel and a schmear and nosh while reading the Sunday Times (half of which is delivered on Saturday—go figure).  Which means that many New Yorkers  (especially those on the West Side) are going to be crying into their lattes with the announcement that the West Side location of H&H Bagels is closing.  It’s the end of an era.

Started in 1972 by brothers-in-law Helmer Toro and Hector Hernandez when they bought an existing bagel shop on Broadway, H&H has come to represent the quintessential bagel.  Warm and chewy on the outside.  Airy, moist and soft on the inside.  In the early 1990’s the bakery moved to 45th and 12th Ave, but the main store remained the on the Upper West Side near Zabars.

When I first came to Manhattan I was told that I absolutely had to try H&H bagels.  So we dutifully took the subway over to the West Side to partake of the magic.  And I have to say they were some fabulous bagels (although you have to take them home if you want them toasted with toppings.).   But being somewhat allergic to long subway commutes , I looked them up online and lo and behold there was an east side outlet.

Off I went to 2nd Ave and 80th, and blissfully bought bagels for the entire time I lived on the Upper East Side.  It was only much later that I was informed that while that location of H&H bagels had originally been owned by the two H’s.  They’d been bought by someone else in the eighties when the original filed for bankruptcy.  (Later indicted for tax evasion, one can’t be all that surprised).  Anyway, my H&H wasn’t actually the H&H.  However, Manhattanites live in their neighborhoods, so I ignored the lack of legitimacy—as far as I was concerned my H&H had great bagels.

But when we moved to Midtown it was no longer worth the commute.  So these days I get my bagels from a shop on the block.  And even though the place next door purports to sell H&H bagels (the bakery at 45th is still open)—I find I like my bagels local—really local (like I can smell them baking late at night when my kitchen window is open).  So while the Upper West Side may have indeed suffered a blow.  Life goes on here in Midtown.  And I’ll take my bagels—toasted with butter—just round the corner, for a perfect Saturday morning.

A Touch of Spain

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One of the things I like best about New York City is the wealth of different cultures.  And nowhere is that more evident than in the food offered by the myriad of restaurants throughout the city.  Saturday night we decided to try a neighborhood restaurant specializing in Spanish food.  And we were not disappointed.

Alcala is a small intimate place located near the United Nations serving food from the Basque region of Spain.  With warm paintings and plates on brick and plaster walls you immediately feel the Mediterranean influence.   Seated at a table for two in the front room, I had a view of passersby as well as the comfortable setting of the restaurant itself.  There is also a garden in the back. The two spaces separated by a lovely old wood bar.

But of course the star of any restaurant is the food.  And our meal was absolutely perfect.  To start we ordered pork tenderloin from the tapas menu.   Two portions of perfectly marinated meat topped with peppers on a rustic toasted bread.   The meat was fork tender and the flavors melded together for a perfect bite.   A great starter, and just the right size.

Next up, we split a salad with white asparagus on piquillo peppers with a scallion and olive vinaigrette.  The dressing was light and refreshing and the white asparagus melt in your mouth good.   And again the portion was perfect for splitting.  And a lovely follow-up to the pork.

Along with both our starter and our salad we had an excellent wine.  A tempranillo/merlot blend from 2003.  Montevannos.   I most definitely would order it again.

For the main course, I chose sautéed monkfish in a parsley and garlic sauce with clams and shrimp.  The fish was perfectly cooked, and the shrimp were mouthwateringly sweet.  The sauce was good enough that I wished for a bit of bread to sop it up, though thankfully, for my waistline, I didn’t.   The presentation was also delightful. And the portion size was generous but not overwhelming.

My husband had a paella with chunks of chicken ,beef and chorizo sauce. It too was delicious, the smoky flavor of the chorizo making the dish.  Besides meat and rice, the casserole was full of zucchini, peas, string beans and other vegetables.  Every bite delicious.

And because I am a complete and total fan of anything resembling egg custard, we ordered the flan  for dessert.  And I have to say that it was fabulous.  With a hint of cinnamon in the caramelized sugar it had an almost exotic flavor.   Definitely a nice touch and the perfect ending for a delightful meal.

We’ll definitely be coming back.

Alcala,  342 East 46th St., New York, NY 1001

(212) 370-1866

http://www.alcalarestaurant.com

A Little Bit of Heaven

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Okay bear with me people, while I digress for a moment.   This blog is mostly about my adventures in Manhattan and it’s immediate surroundings (hey, I’m a Texan so that means a pretty wide swath of the northeast).  But recently, I was called back to Austin for a flying trip to attend a dear friend’s funeral.  (See www.whinesisters.com for more on that).

Anyway, besides seeing old friends and celebrating the life we had lost.   I also had the opportunity to have a meal on Sunday at my favorite restaurant in the whole world.  And I mean that literally as I’ve eaten at some pretty amazing places around the planet.  Hyde Park Grill, in central Austin was first introduced to me in 1988, by my soon to be (okay he didn’t know it yet) husband.  And I’ve been in love ever since (with both of them).  A draw for all of Austin, I once stood in line waiting for a table behind Lyle Lovett.   And I’m sure over the years there have been many other famous people as enamored of the food as I am.  

Created in 1982 by owner Bick Brown, HPG occupied an old house in Hyde Park (a fabulous older neighborhood in Austin) across from Mother’s (another Austin institution).  Formerly an Armenian Restaurant, according to the HPG website, Brown gutted the then pink house and returned it to its former glory.  Indeed, the ship-lap walls and rooms turned to alcoves provides the perfect habitat for the art the restaurant showcases in exhibits that change every six weeks.  We’ve even got a few pieces we bought from those same artists over the years.

And out front, serving to mark this fabulous eatery is a large silver fork—festooned as befits the season and/or the owners whims.  That fork has held a hamburger, some french fries, a heart, what looked to be Bevo’s horns, a flower, and on occasion the whole wide world.  A friend of ours once lived in a rental house owned by Brown and the various toppers were stored in the backyard.

But as with all restaurants the showpiece is of course the food!  Although the menu is more diverse than when I first started going the mainstay is still the amazing french fries.   Hyde Park fries are so good, that when we moved to Austria for a time, they were one of two recipes I desperately wanted to take with me.  (And I have indeed made them several times—though they’re never quite as good as the ones on site).  Dredged in seasoned flour and then dipped in buttermilk, the resulting crispy bits of heaven are then dipped into their famous sauce (mayo with jalapenos gives you a vague idea of what we’re talking about).   I always ask for extra sauce.

The menu, full of comfort food items like mac and cheese and chicken fried steak, also has a full array of burgers and salads, fabulous sandwiches and some pretty serious entrees including potato crusted tilapia and New York strip (see you know I’d get the words New York in here somehow).   But being a creature of habit I always order the same thing:  the turkey muffaletta and fries.

Just to make your mouth water, here’s the restaurant’s description:  Smoked turkey breast meat, mozzarella cheese and olive/garlic tapenade nestled in a Romano and parsley foccacia bun, then seared until crispy on both sides. Served with Creole mustard and a Kosher dill spear.  O.M.G.  Heaven.   And Sunday did not disappoint.

Hyde Park promotes everything that is good about Austin.  A little bit funky, a little bit artsy, the perfect place for good food and good friends.

4206 Duval St
Austin, TX 78751

512-458-3168

http://hpbng.com/central

It’s All in the Timing!

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Okay, so summer, in Texas is a time for grilling.  Hot Dogs, Hamburgers–and in the best Texas tradition, BBQ.   Unfortunately, Manhattan does not lend itself to grilling.  Although we finally do have a small terrace, we’re not allowed to have a grill.  So I’d pretty much resigned myself to heading for Hill Country BBQ  whenever I need a fix.  (They have Kretz’s saugages.)   Anyway, recently we discovered (and adapted) a fabulous recipe from teh NYT for making pork spare ribs in the oven.  And they’re so amazing I wanted to share the recipe with you.  Better than anything I managed on my old Falcon Grill, and that’s saying a lot!

Pork Spare Ribs:

2 spare rib racks (or cut ribs to equal that)

2 Tbs Canola oil

Kosher salt

2-3 tsps dried parsley

4 sprigs time

4 garlic cloves gently crushed

Heat oven to 350 degrees.  Spread 24 inch sheet of heavy-duty foil, shiny side up, on counter.  Place one rack on top, rub it with oil and then generously season both sides with salt.  Place parsley and garlic under the concave side of the rack and two thyme springs on top.  Wrap the ribs in the foil pleating the edges to seal well.  Repeat with other rack.  Place rib packets in a large roasting pan.

Roast the ribs for 30 minutes at 350, then reduce temperature to 250 degrees and cook for 2 hours until the meat has shrunk back from the ends of the bones by ¼ to ½ inch and the ribs are tender enough to pull apart with your fingers.

Remove ribs from the oven and let them cool briefly, then open the foil, being careful of the steam.  Transfer the ribs to a baking sheet.  Raise the oven to 450 degrees.

Slather both sides of the ribs with BBQ sauce (we used Stubbs Mesquite sweet sauce  or if you have it use Salt Lick original BBQ sauce).  Back in the oven 8-12 minutes (we did ten)  Baste again with the BBQ sauce and serve at once with remaining sauce on the side.

These are some seriously good ribs.  Perfect for a summer meal (on the terrace–of course!)

Dinner and Chili Lights

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Had a fabulous dinner with family recently.  A place in the East Village called Panna II Indian Restaurant.   According to the scuttle, the place is owned by brothers who were cooks on a freighter who abandoned ship and never looked back.  No idea if it’s true, but it makes the place even more fun, don’t you think?

First thing you see upon arriving at 93 First Ave, is three restaurants in the space of well…one.  One is downstairs and the other two are upstairs.  They all immediately try to get you to choose theirs, but we stuck with the one on the right upstairs as that’s where our group was meeting.  (I also heard that most people believe that there’s really only one kitchen for all three restaurants and like the brothers’ story, it makes for conversation.)

Inside it’s like entering a dimly lit cave festooned with literally hundreds of chili pepper and
 twinkling lights.  Very cool, but definitely requiring a bit of ducking for those of us over 5’5”.  Tables are crammed together, as is often the case in Manhattan restaurants, so if you sit next to the wall, once you’re in—you’re in.   Which meant I couldn’t rise to greet folks when they arrived, but no matter, it was well worth being landlocked, so to speak.

There’s no liquor license so those in the know, not me—but fortunately I was eating with people who were regulars—bring their own beer and wine.  There’s apparently a great store next door, although I never actually saw it.  (Another three doors down is supposedly one of the best Indian markets in town).  Anyway, once everyone arrived and drinks had been poured it was time to study the menu.

I learned to eat Indian food when I was living in Vienna and have loved it ever since.  And I not only eat it out, I cook it in.  So I know my way around a menu, but I’ll have to say that this place had some fabulous new entrees I hadn’t seen as well as the old familiars.   We started with poppadoms and then ordered a round of samosas which arrived hot and perfectly fried (meaning once you’re finished you don’t feel like you’d dunked your head in a vat of grease).   The pastry was tender and the potatoes and peas spiced perfectly.

I ordered chicken Kashmir, which also arrived fragrant and hot.  And I must say I savored every bite.  In addition, I’d asked for it mild and it did in fact arrive without the spices that make my lips tingle.  I love Indian food, but what can I say, if it’s too spicy it doesn’t love me.  Everyone else was oohing and ahhing their entrees as well.  Not to mention sharing bites.  And the festive atmosphere made for a perfect evening.

And one of the best parts of the meal—in a crazy NY way—was the moment when the hundreds of chili peppers dimmed and a disco version of “Happy Birthday” broke out over the loud speakers.  The twinkling lights went on over-drive and I wanted to break into Saturday Night Fever mode.

The moment passed however, and it was back to good food and great company.  A perfect evening.

I’ve heard that it’s crowded on weekends so reservations are a must!

Panna II Indian Restaurant

93 First Ave.  (Between 5th and 6th Streets)

www.panna2.com

212-5984610

(all photos from Panna’s website)