Thought for Food

A word about resveratrol and wine. As you probably know the nutrient, found in grape skins, is packed with antioxidants and credited with extending life. Most winemakers ferment skin-on grapes only when making red wine; hence recommendations, such as Tracy’s, to drink one glass of red per day. But I adore white and rose wines, especially in the warmer months. Not fair that red wine gets all the good stuff.

Fortunately some winemakers are experimenting with “fermenting on the skins” (to use proper terminology) to produce white wine. Channing Daughters, a really fabulous and inventive winery in Bridgehampton, NY, has developed what they call “Oranges” — white wines from skin-fermented grapes or grape blends.

When we visited in July we fell in love with two Oranges, the 2007 Envelope and the 2008 Ramato. The former is sold out (though they may still have some at the winery, if you’re in the Hamptons) but the latter is for sale on their website. There’s also a third Orange Wine, the 2006 Meditazione, which I don’t remember if we tried but is undoubtedly delicious.

I’m sure there are many more wineries experimenting like this (and if not they should be; consider the marketing potential!). Look for the phrases “skin-fermented” or “fermented on the skins.”

And cheers to a long life with lots and lots of wine!

Roasted Veggie Whole Wheat Pizza (healthy! and yet, awesome!)

Got your 99-cent pizza dough? Good. (Wait a sec. You bought four, right? Two for tonight, two to stick in the freezer for later? I mean, if you’re gonna wait in the TJ line….) Ok. Awesome. Here’s your game plan. (Just a warnin’ darlin’: we’re gonna have to go back in time a few days, but what’s a little metaphysical peregrination in a pizza recipe?)

When you’re hangin’ around the house, maybe a Sunday evening, roast a couple pans of sliced zucchini, eggplant, and tomatoes (drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with herbs from the garden and plenty of kosher salt) ‘til they’re soft and slightly caramelized. (They’re growin’ like gangbusters now; your farmer’s market or even grocery store will have insane deals.) Store in the fridge for a workday night when you ain’t got no time but you want pizza damnit.

Forty minutes before you want to eat, jack the oven high, as high as it’ll go. Place the pizza dough and veggies on the counter so they can come to room temp. Open that bottle of wine. Twenty minutes before you want to eat, roll the dough on a lightly floured surface, transfer to a lightly oiled baking sheet, and pile on the veggies as well as a thin layer of pesto (if you’ve got it) and dabs of fresh goat cheese or fresh mozzarella or whatever (skip it if you want; the veggies are so rich, almost creamy, this can be vegan, no problemo). Bake for 6-12 minutes, until the crust is as crisp as you like. While it’s in the oven, throw together a salad with whatever came in the CSA box. Take the pizza out and let it stand while you whisk some olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and Dijon mustard together, toss, pour another glass of wine, slice the pizza, and presto-chango: dinner!

07.22.10, 10 pm. East Village.

PS: That’s Andrea’s hand. We were long overdue for face time, so we had a Tracy date. One of my favorite kind of dates.

A Hemingway Daquiri in honor of Papa Doble’s birthday. (Er, yes: sipping it while doing Tracy. But rum is for dancing, is it not?)

After five days of fever that I just couldn’t shake, I woke up Saturday feeling healthy and happy to be alive. So I celebrated with scrambled egg whites with Oyster Pond cherry tomatoes, feta, and rosemary and thyme straight from the terrace.

(Ok, so celebrated = breakfasted. But believe me, it felt pretty fabulous. First time I had energy in days. And all of you who have ever suffered through Tracy are going to kill me for saying this, but 5 minutes into Dance II and I was grinning ear-to-ear. With nearly a week off, I had forgotten how JOYFUL that workout makes me. Yahooooo!)

A cooking note: I like to add a dash of milk to egg whites. They cook quickly so have all the add-ins ready in advance (seen here). The cherry tomatoes were so sweet and delicate I cooked them just enough to warm them, about the time it took to melt the feta. And the fresh herbs make a very simple meal feel fancy. I absolutely love this combination!

07.10.2010, 12 pm. East Village.

Mos Dub, “History Town” // via fred-wilson who writes: “this is from the excellent mashup record Mos Dub (free download)”

lauraemily:

Holy SUMMER. This makes me want pile all my friends into a ridiculous rental car, eat popsicles,  and cruise into the sunset. 

Who’s game?

I was just sitting here, feeling like I might be getting a head cold and feeling very sorry for myself about it, wondering if I should go back to sleep, thinking how I’m going to get out of plans tonight, and not in the mood to listen to music. But, intrigued by Laura’s rave review, I clicked play.

And in five seconds flat I shot up like a Fourth of July firecracker, did a little hip-shake (this is one of my favorite samples everever), put on a pot of coffee (which shall be iced and slurped while doing Tracy’s dance cardio), and felt blessed to be alive in summer 2010.

The plans are back ON (and what fabulous plans they are). I’ll sleep when I’m dead — or in winter, whichever comes first.

After the Illegal Wedding Fair we were famished, having subsisted only on teeny cupcakes and cocktail-in-a-keg all day. We tried to hit this up, but they were fresh out of crawfish and I was like, whatever, we’ll have ‘em next year in NOLA for Katie’s wedding and then it hit me that there probably won’t be any Gulf crawfish next year and that could have been my last-ever chance to eat it and so I drowned my fuckBP in a Gibson. It helped.

M. suggested we go eat at the bar at Minetta Tavern and he had that look in his eye — that let’s do/eat something kahraaaazy look (seen most notably here but also here and here and lots more besides) — so I said yes! and we hightailed it over and proceeded to go effing nuts on that menu:

Tartare “Goûtez” (three count ‘em three: lamb, beef, and precious little veal which tastes all the better ‘cause it never had a chance to live)

The grilled anchovies special (no red meat! a problem)

And the mother-lovin pièce de résistance: Dry Aged Côte de Boeuf for two, with roasted marrow bones and sucrine lettuce salad, seen above as it was presented, before they took it back to slice it.

(The proportions of meat vs. salad were hilarious, and perfect.)

Plus crispy Pommes Anna that smelled gloriously of duck fat, an amazing Burgundy (don’t know which, that’s his department), several digestifs, and an exquisite Chocolate Dacquoise for deeeesert.

The meal in a word: oh!

In two: oh my!

In three: oh my yes!

And in four: oh my fuck yes!

06.06.2010, 7 pm. MacDougal Street, the Village.

PS: (Feel I need to say this, lest you think I’m an utter glutton.) I do Tracy six days a week. Burn it to earn it. (Oy. What an embarassing phrase. Let’s never mention again that I used it.)

Gonna level with you. My life hit the fan on Monday around midnight and things have been pretty god-awful since. Only thing keeping me moving is

1. Tracy in the morning
2. Knowing I’ll see dear Jane in Chicago tomorrow night
3. Friends (always)

Yesterday evening Julie texted me to see if we could move up our Thursday dinner date. Seafood sounded a helluva lot better than what I was doing (bawling on 5th Avenue in front of the Express store). Pulled those sunglasses down and headed downtown.

Things got better when I got to her street, one of the prettiest in the city.

Things got downright okay when we stopped to smell the roses on 6th Avenue at 9th Street.

Things got kinda awesome when they showed us to a little table in the back of Pearl Oyster Bar without so much as a minute’s wait.

And when we struck up neighborly conversation with the tables on either side of us — two gay partners celebrating a birthday with lobster rolls and a sweet grown son doting on his mama — I felt grateful for the gifts that strangers can give you without even realizing it.

05.26.2010, 7:45 pm. Caesar salad, lobster, shrimp, clam, and oyster cocktail, French rosé, and blueberry crumble pie with vanilla ice cream. Pearl Oyster Bar, Cornelia Street.

…

I need to add something. There’s something else that belongs on that list:

      4. Faith.

Faith in him and I. We have both been scarred by our history; mine primal, his contemporary. We know the injustice of life in a way that many do not. We know pain. And because of that, intimacy — love — oh, it can be hard. So hard. I look from outside and I see two people and I ache for them, you know? Because they have suffered and they are afraid but they are trying.