Taste of Home, a cooking magazine with the median age of readership around 60, has a circulation of 3.4 MILLION. (!!!) This blows my mind. For comparison's sake, V is 30,000 copies; This Old House is 1.2 million; Martha Stewart Living is 1.9 million, and things like Time and People have a circ around 3.5 to 4 million copies.
So there's this magazine primarily dealing in recipe exchanges that covers the canned soup/jello salad arena that ALSO has one of the top 15 circulations in America. It's impressive. As much as I'd like to think food habits have changed in America (with a wider variety of produce and known ingredients available everywhere, for starters), seeing these actual numbers show what the reality really is. Bottom line: people who cook at home like food that's convenient and simple to cook.
Check out their website for great pictures of the contributing cooks.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Eatin' Out - Fish
280 Bleeker btw Jones and 7th Ave
Shellfish on ice in the window (check). Dark wood bar with friendly and pretty bartender (check). Peanuts to shell, eat and throw on the floor (check). Chalkboard with specials (check). A "Red, White and Blue" special served every day: 6 Blue Point oysters + a PBR for $8 (check). Families sharing big meals (check).
Fish, an unpretentious raw bar (or shellfish house/lobster shack/clam bar, if you prefer) owned by a fish distributor, has all the requirements for a good seafood place. Fortunately, the restaurant delivers what the look promises: reasonably-priced fresh seafood that makes you long for an open deck with a beach breeze, instead of a crowded street in the heart of the West Village. While the lobster roll was only decent (light on the butter and tough meat) the fries were crisp, uncut and delicious. The rest of the the menu is griled fish entrees, po' boys, chowders and salads with the service young, distracted, flighty and well-meaning. I will definitely will go here again, if I can remember where here is. (Will I ever NOT get lost in the West Village?)
Shellfish on ice in the window (check). Dark wood bar with friendly and pretty bartender (check). Peanuts to shell, eat and throw on the floor (check). Chalkboard with specials (check). A "Red, White and Blue" special served every day: 6 Blue Point oysters + a PBR for $8 (check). Families sharing big meals (check).
Fish, an unpretentious raw bar (or shellfish house/lobster shack/clam bar, if you prefer) owned by a fish distributor, has all the requirements for a good seafood place. Fortunately, the restaurant delivers what the look promises: reasonably-priced fresh seafood that makes you long for an open deck with a beach breeze, instead of a crowded street in the heart of the West Village. While the lobster roll was only decent (light on the butter and tough meat) the fries were crisp, uncut and delicious. The rest of the the menu is griled fish entrees, po' boys, chowders and salads with the service young, distracted, flighty and well-meaning. I will definitely will go here again, if I can remember where here is. (Will I ever NOT get lost in the West Village?)
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Duck Duck Goose
From last week's New York Times:
(In 2004 California passed a law banning the production and sale of foie gras by 2012.)
"I hope I'm retired by 2012," said Thomas Keller, owner of the French Laundry in the Napa Valley and Per Se in Manhattan, who believes the government should not tell people what to eat. "If force-feeding a duck is cruel, then packing chickens in a cage is cruel, and then the veal and the beef. We are all going to be vegetarians soon if they have their way. We should probably start converting now."
I have mixed feelings about foie gras. My mixed feelings coming down to -- Damn. Foie gras is gooooooood. I love foie gras. L-U-V LOVE it. It's really one of the most amazing foods on the planet, right up there with bacon, the original food of the gods. And I try not to think about animal cruelty in these cases because it down right ruins my appetite. If I were to examine any meat-eating too closely, I might I have to quit doing it, if I was unable to justify the total dominance of one creature over another by eating it. No thanks. I want to keep enjoying lamb; and duck; and pig; and goose and every other little delicious creature. Isn't this more about the laws of nature? Or something...whatever, I enjoy my meat, that much I know.
I was watching Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" show on the Travel Channel where dude seriously put away about 12 different foie gras dishes while eating somewhere in Montreal. I have no idea how anyone could put away that much of the rich, silky goodness that is foie gras and still walk around. But I definitely envied him.
On the same note, Bill Buford has a most amusing article in the May 1st issue of the New Yorker about butchering a pig fresh from the Union Square Greenmarket in his Manhattan kitchen. This, of course, after bringing the whole critter home on a Vespa; through the lobby of his doorman building; and up the elevator after scaring away another tenant, all the while carrying a whole pig only covered with a plastic sheet.
(In 2004 California passed a law banning the production and sale of foie gras by 2012.)
"I hope I'm retired by 2012," said Thomas Keller, owner of the French Laundry in the Napa Valley and Per Se in Manhattan, who believes the government should not tell people what to eat. "If force-feeding a duck is cruel, then packing chickens in a cage is cruel, and then the veal and the beef. We are all going to be vegetarians soon if they have their way. We should probably start converting now."
I have mixed feelings about foie gras. My mixed feelings coming down to -- Damn. Foie gras is gooooooood. I love foie gras. L-U-V LOVE it. It's really one of the most amazing foods on the planet, right up there with bacon, the original food of the gods. And I try not to think about animal cruelty in these cases because it down right ruins my appetite. If I were to examine any meat-eating too closely, I might I have to quit doing it, if I was unable to justify the total dominance of one creature over another by eating it. No thanks. I want to keep enjoying lamb; and duck; and pig; and goose and every other little delicious creature. Isn't this more about the laws of nature? Or something...whatever, I enjoy my meat, that much I know.
I was watching Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" show on the Travel Channel where dude seriously put away about 12 different foie gras dishes while eating somewhere in Montreal. I have no idea how anyone could put away that much of the rich, silky goodness that is foie gras and still walk around. But I definitely envied him.
On the same note, Bill Buford has a most amusing article in the May 1st issue of the New Yorker about butchering a pig fresh from the Union Square Greenmarket in his Manhattan kitchen. This, of course, after bringing the whole critter home on a Vespa; through the lobby of his doorman building; and up the elevator after scaring away another tenant, all the while carrying a whole pig only covered with a plastic sheet.
Derby.
Thoughts on the 2006 Kentucky Derby:
1) I absolutely loved seeing Barbaro, a deserving horse if there ever was one, win the Derby. This colt is six for six in his lifetime, and his dominating 6 1/2 length win shows what a pro he really is. Plus, I had him across the board...He'll probably take the Preakness in two weeks and then who knows what will happen with the Belmont, the grueling 1 1/2 mile race that has taken out Triple Crown contenders for 4 of the past 5 years.
2) Derby parties are goddamn fun. I can't believe I was thinking about cancelling MY personal favorite Calyer Street tradition (beyond 36-hour fires, that is). I had a great cross-section of enthusiastic yet horse-ignorant friends getting into Derby, including the annual casualties of unwise folk becoming disasters on WAY too many juleps. Derby always means getting drunk and sober about three times over Derby Day, for them juleps sneak up and try to kill you. Remember, nothing says Derby like stumbling drunks and fake Irish accents! The special guest appearance of "Pat from Ohio" for the weekend added to the fun (and a cleaner house).
UPDATE 5/25/06: These photos of the warehouses that caught on fire, and their interiors, at the Greenpoint Terminal Market are pretty great.
1) I absolutely loved seeing Barbaro, a deserving horse if there ever was one, win the Derby. This colt is six for six in his lifetime, and his dominating 6 1/2 length win shows what a pro he really is. Plus, I had him across the board...He'll probably take the Preakness in two weeks and then who knows what will happen with the Belmont, the grueling 1 1/2 mile race that has taken out Triple Crown contenders for 4 of the past 5 years.
2) Derby parties are goddamn fun. I can't believe I was thinking about cancelling MY personal favorite Calyer Street tradition (beyond 36-hour fires, that is). I had a great cross-section of enthusiastic yet horse-ignorant friends getting into Derby, including the annual casualties of unwise folk becoming disasters on WAY too many juleps. Derby always means getting drunk and sober about three times over Derby Day, for them juleps sneak up and try to kill you. Remember, nothing says Derby like stumbling drunks and fake Irish accents! The special guest appearance of "Pat from Ohio" for the weekend added to the fun (and a cleaner house).
UPDATE 5/25/06: These photos of the warehouses that caught on fire, and their interiors, at the Greenpoint Terminal Market are pretty great.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Professor Kowie
A little later today, I'm going to have the enlightening/terrifying experience of being a guest speaker on Print Production in my boss's Publication Design class at Parsons. I was dreading it, and only speaking because I was basically bullied into it, but now I think it's going to be kind of fun. I'm going to attempt not to swear, or call any of my lovely printers "douches" when talking about the MAGIC of the printed page...
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Eatin' Out - Monkeytown
58 N. 3rd Street, Williamsburg Brooklyn
Here's what you need to know: Monkeytown is seriously mediocre. My friend said it best: it's another Brooklyn restaurant that would close in two months if it was in Manhattan. While I do think there's some good chow to be had in Brooklyn, perhaps most often in the 5th Avenue/Park Slope area, Williamsburg has more than its share of restaurant pretenders. Unoriginal and flavorless dishes are continually carted out for $17 bucks a pop, although I'll give kudos to the lime meatball appetizer. But overall: weak.
The seating is uncomfortable, with tables made out of plywood by a midget architect with hemorrhoids, seeing as they are very low to the ground with zero leg room, and covered with futons with no backs bungee-corded to the platforms as an excuse for couch-like seating. The service was Stepfordesque, with specials delivered in strange tones broken up by awkward pauses from blank-faced waitstaff clad in grease monkey suits.
I haven't sat in the more inviting back room, where you can watch a movie or listen to a speaker while dining but I don't think I ever will.
Here's what you need to know: Monkeytown is seriously mediocre. My friend said it best: it's another Brooklyn restaurant that would close in two months if it was in Manhattan. While I do think there's some good chow to be had in Brooklyn, perhaps most often in the 5th Avenue/Park Slope area, Williamsburg has more than its share of restaurant pretenders. Unoriginal and flavorless dishes are continually carted out for $17 bucks a pop, although I'll give kudos to the lime meatball appetizer. But overall: weak.
The seating is uncomfortable, with tables made out of plywood by a midget architect with hemorrhoids, seeing as they are very low to the ground with zero leg room, and covered with futons with no backs bungee-corded to the platforms as an excuse for couch-like seating. The service was Stepfordesque, with specials delivered in strange tones broken up by awkward pauses from blank-faced waitstaff clad in grease monkey suits.
I haven't sat in the more inviting back room, where you can watch a movie or listen to a speaker while dining but I don't think I ever will.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Saturday in New York
I had one hell of a productive day today. It's gorgeous, sunny and 75 degrees, and I've got a touch of summer fever.
When Meghan moved in upstairs a couple weeks ago, she asked our landlord Eleanor if she could lock a bike to the front fence. Eleanor told her she'd have to ask me because "that's Susan's yard." Well, I'll be damned. I didn't even know I HAD my own yard, all glorious 18 square feet of it. Since I like growing something, I went and got three planters and $100 of dirt at the Home Depot with Gina's help the other night. With much "friendly" commentary from my neighbors who have lived there for 30 years+, the tulips are in, and now I have to plot what other things will grow in a shady north-facing yard in Greepoint. (nothing?) It looks pretty cute. And no, Meghan can't lock her bike there now.
I finally gave in and joined My Space, after resisting for a few years. Why?? To stalk people, of course. Like the way they say it happens on Nightline to teenagers. My co-worker has been kind enough to let me log in as him when in, um, need of information but enough was enough. The nice part of it is that I spent a lot of the day reconnecting to friends because of the site via email, plus catching up with Pat for an hour on the phone.
I also decided to have my Derby party again this year. I wasn't sure if I was feeling putting on the whole hoo-ha that it inevitably becomes (because I can't be calm and have a chilled-out party - I must always lose my mind and get a ham; glassware; derby-themed plates; invite 50 people; etc. etc.) but realized it would be damn fun to do. I'm lucky enough to have enough space that my friends can come over for a proper party, so bring it on. And remember, juleps are deadly...
Now I'm catching the last two Derby prep races (the Blue Grass Stakes, and the Arkansas Derby) before heading off to dinner at Monkeytown (gay name for a restaurant) with Troy and Crankypants Kaplan. I'm guessing this weather means many drinks will be drunk while wandering about the campus of the U of WBurg this evening.
When Meghan moved in upstairs a couple weeks ago, she asked our landlord Eleanor if she could lock a bike to the front fence. Eleanor told her she'd have to ask me because "that's Susan's yard." Well, I'll be damned. I didn't even know I HAD my own yard, all glorious 18 square feet of it. Since I like growing something, I went and got three planters and $100 of dirt at the Home Depot with Gina's help the other night. With much "friendly" commentary from my neighbors who have lived there for 30 years+, the tulips are in, and now I have to plot what other things will grow in a shady north-facing yard in Greepoint. (nothing?) It looks pretty cute. And no, Meghan can't lock her bike there now.
I finally gave in and joined My Space, after resisting for a few years. Why?? To stalk people, of course. Like the way they say it happens on Nightline to teenagers. My co-worker has been kind enough to let me log in as him when in, um, need of information but enough was enough. The nice part of it is that I spent a lot of the day reconnecting to friends because of the site via email, plus catching up with Pat for an hour on the phone.
I also decided to have my Derby party again this year. I wasn't sure if I was feeling putting on the whole hoo-ha that it inevitably becomes (because I can't be calm and have a chilled-out party - I must always lose my mind and get a ham; glassware; derby-themed plates; invite 50 people; etc. etc.) but realized it would be damn fun to do. I'm lucky enough to have enough space that my friends can come over for a proper party, so bring it on. And remember, juleps are deadly...
Now I'm catching the last two Derby prep races (the Blue Grass Stakes, and the Arkansas Derby) before heading off to dinner at Monkeytown (gay name for a restaurant) with Troy and Crankypants Kaplan. I'm guessing this weather means many drinks will be drunk while wandering about the campus of the U of WBurg this evening.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Road to the Roses
The three-year old racing season is in full swing, with today's card including the Wood Memorial at Aqueduct; the Illinois Derby at Hawthorne; and the Santa Anita Derby in California. The winners of these three prep races will most certainly be the favorites in the Kentucky Derby on the first Satuday in May, with the Bluegrass Stakes next Saturday at Keenland completing the Derby picture for 2006.
The weather in NYC is awful today, with blustery rain and a temperature of 38 degrees. I was all wound up about making my usual trip to the Wood and my first trip back to the track since last fall, but instead woke up hungover, tired and when I tried to take the L the train to Broadway Junction, found I would be traveling on a damn BUS the whole way through Queens to Broadway Junction due to the usual crap L train problems. Hell no. I imagined this taking about 2 hours so I bagged out on going, instead placing my bets at the OTB on Manhattan Avenue amongst some real charmers before retiring to my couch to watch the action. The bonus is that I'm warm, and having Jerry Bailey, the recently retired all-time winningest jockey, on ABC for race coverage is a great new addition to the TV coverage.
The California-bred Brother Derek cemented himself as the Kentucky Derby favorite with an impressive win in the SA Derby, and I was impressed by the late kick Jazil showed in the Wood, blasting through the last furlong to grab second place behind the Bob Baffert trained favorite, Bob and John. A late gear like that bodes well for his chances in the Derby, as the race is 1/4 mile longer than the Wood's 1 1/8 mile course.
Lo and behold, I won $72 on the Wood and a whopping $7.40 on the Santa Anita Derby (less the whopping 9% OTB takeout) from the comforts of Calyer Street. I should save this to buy a new car right away so that I don't have to miss any more big races due to annoyances from the MTA. Instead, I am going to take a car service to and from the city tonight to see the Soledad Brothers and the Heartless Bastards at the Mercury.
The weather in NYC is awful today, with blustery rain and a temperature of 38 degrees. I was all wound up about making my usual trip to the Wood and my first trip back to the track since last fall, but instead woke up hungover, tired and when I tried to take the L the train to Broadway Junction, found I would be traveling on a damn BUS the whole way through Queens to Broadway Junction due to the usual crap L train problems. Hell no. I imagined this taking about 2 hours so I bagged out on going, instead placing my bets at the OTB on Manhattan Avenue amongst some real charmers before retiring to my couch to watch the action. The bonus is that I'm warm, and having Jerry Bailey, the recently retired all-time winningest jockey, on ABC for race coverage is a great new addition to the TV coverage.
The California-bred Brother Derek cemented himself as the Kentucky Derby favorite with an impressive win in the SA Derby, and I was impressed by the late kick Jazil showed in the Wood, blasting through the last furlong to grab second place behind the Bob Baffert trained favorite, Bob and John. A late gear like that bodes well for his chances in the Derby, as the race is 1/4 mile longer than the Wood's 1 1/8 mile course.
Lo and behold, I won $72 on the Wood and a whopping $7.40 on the Santa Anita Derby (less the whopping 9% OTB takeout) from the comforts of Calyer Street. I should save this to buy a new car right away so that I don't have to miss any more big races due to annoyances from the MTA. Instead, I am going to take a car service to and from the city tonight to see the Soledad Brothers and the Heartless Bastards at the Mercury.
Eatin' Out - Williamsburgh Cafe
170 Wythe @ N. 7th
I can't believe I finally went and ate here. It had received decent reviews, but I was really reluctant to go, as it seemed to symbolize to me all of the bad parts of gentrification that have come to Williamsburg in the past 6 or 7 years. Located in the former home of a Polish bakery, the outside of the building has all these clever Brooklyn-themed signs that made me think of Bennigans/TGI Friday's/any chain restaurant that decorates with pointless signs and kitschy chotchkes. (Boy I like those two words together...kitschy chotchkes! kitschy chotchkes!) Unfair, sure, but I simply assumed I would hate it.
Long story short - I had brunch here today with Helen and it was pretty good, even taking into account that brunch is the worst meal to judge a restaurant on. The interior is HUGE, with a weird mix of tons of hanging plants and historical artifacts from Ye Olde Willamsburgh days in a skylight-lit room. The historical stuff in the decor was actually interesting but cracked me up, making me feel like I was in a Williamsburg tourist trap (has it really come to that?). If Mark Twain or George Washington had set foot anywhere near Brooklyn, there would have been a historical marker. The menu is a standard yet interesting mix of panini/pizza/benedicts/ flavored waffles & pancakes, and the pricey $12 brunch price for most of these items includes one alcoholic drink. Service was friendly and attentive, surprising me again by providing something other than contemptuous hipster staff. I think I may go again and be forced to admit my reverse snobbery was unwarranted.
I can't believe I finally went and ate here. It had received decent reviews, but I was really reluctant to go, as it seemed to symbolize to me all of the bad parts of gentrification that have come to Williamsburg in the past 6 or 7 years. Located in the former home of a Polish bakery, the outside of the building has all these clever Brooklyn-themed signs that made me think of Bennigans/TGI Friday's/any chain restaurant that decorates with pointless signs and kitschy chotchkes. (Boy I like those two words together...kitschy chotchkes! kitschy chotchkes!) Unfair, sure, but I simply assumed I would hate it.
Long story short - I had brunch here today with Helen and it was pretty good, even taking into account that brunch is the worst meal to judge a restaurant on. The interior is HUGE, with a weird mix of tons of hanging plants and historical artifacts from Ye Olde Willamsburgh days in a skylight-lit room. The historical stuff in the decor was actually interesting but cracked me up, making me feel like I was in a Williamsburg tourist trap (has it really come to that?). If Mark Twain or George Washington had set foot anywhere near Brooklyn, there would have been a historical marker. The menu is a standard yet interesting mix of panini/pizza/benedicts/ flavored waffles & pancakes, and the pricey $12 brunch price for most of these items includes one alcoholic drink. Service was friendly and attentive, surprising me again by providing something other than contemptuous hipster staff. I think I may go again and be forced to admit my reverse snobbery was unwarranted.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Taking 40,000 hits of Ecstasy is BAD
Do we really need British scientists to tell us that taking 40,000 hits of E over 17 years might cause a body some problems? The subject "suffers from severe physical and mental health side-effects, including extreme memory problems, paranoia, hallucinations and depression. He also suffers from painful muscle rigidity around his neck and jaw which often prevents him from opening his mouth. The doctors believe many of these symptoms may be permanent."
Go figure.
Go figure.
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