Crying in my Suba.

THIS EVENING: A dinner in three parts.

INT: Suba, on the Lower East Side, recently renovated from a late-night club into a painfully chic, contemporary, Spanish restaurant.

A couple is seated at one of many tables located on a platform that, they kid you not, appears to be hovering over a pool of water.

Dude: What's that smell?
Chick: I think it's chlorine. Kind of inappropriate for inside a restaurant, no?
Dude: We'll find out.
Chick: I think I'm sitting over the filter mechanism, although I'm not sure I'm complaining just yet.

A server arrives and explains the menu to the couple. There are no daily specials. It is painfully chic.

Dude: So, this is some kind of tapas menu?
Chick: Yep. I suggest we get a bunch of stuff, really mix it up. I barely recognize any of these ingredients and I, mind you, am a total food snob, so I would love to sample what they have to offer so I can blog about it and sound like I know what I'm talking about.
Dude: Ok, then, you choose because I trust you.

The couple places their order and sits quietly for approximately 8 - 10 minutes, awaiting their dishes and casting their eyes about the room in order to discern if they are, in fact, in a cavern of some sort that houses a giant, chlorinated pool, or a painfully chic restaurant on the Lower East Side. It is, they deem, too soon to tell.

The server returns with their first course: a "Tortilla a la Sidrería," described as a cider-house omelet with bacalao (salt cod), carmelized onions, and American Sturgeon caviar and another froufrou dish called "Gambas a la Plancha" which is made with Maya prawns, seasoned pickles, chorizo sausage, garbanzo purée, and harissa (chile paste).

Dude: Hm, that's a weird texture.
Chick: Which? This icky, smashed-up-egg-in-a-martini-glass-thing? I'm not sure I get it. Is this slimy substance a half-cooked egg white? I'm feeling a little gaggy. You?
Dude: Definitely. Let's eat the prawns instead. Their eyeballs are kind of freaking me out staring up off the plate like that.

The server returns.

Server: How's everything?
Dude: Just great, thanks.
Chick: Perfect, thank you.

The server leaves.

Chick: Yum, these prawns are good. And this garbanzo purée is quite tasty. I'm not sure I see the chorizo, though. Isn't there supposed to be chorizo in this dish? And why in the heck would they do that to a poor pickle? It looks like a coiled-up worm. Not very appeti...
Dude: HOLY COW! Did you just see that?!?
Chick: What? What just happened?
Dude: I cut into the head part of my prawn and it exploded!
Chick: WHAT?!?
Dude: Seriously, look. There's...head stuff...all over the dish...and on my glass...and on the table next to us. (points at enough blood spatter worthy of a crime scene)
Chick: Oh, dear. I think I'm going to throw up.

The server returns.

Server: Here's your next course: Croquetas. Two each of duck, crab, and ham/asparagus over complimentary sauces. Are you finished with your first course dishes? May I remove them?
Dude: Yes, please, thanks.
Chick: *gurgle*

The server leaves.

Dude: I'm scared.
Chick: Me, too. You first. Try the crab one.
Dude: (takes a bite) Not bad. It's ok.
Chick: (takes a bite) Pretty good. No, very good actually. Let's try the duck ones.
Dude: (takes a bite) These are good, too.
Chick: (takes a bite) Maybe things are looking up. Let's try the ham/asparagus ones.
Dude: (takes a bite) Three for three.
Chick: Did you dip it in the sauce?
Dude: No.
Chick: (dips it in the sauce) It tastes like grass clippings.

The server returns.

Server: Your final course: Arroz Negro. This is paella made with squid ink and combined with baby squid, fava beans, sea urchin, and lemon. May I remove this other dish for you?
Dude: Yes, please, thanks.
Chick: *gag*

The server leaves.

Dude: I can't see anything. What's in the dish? It's all black. Everything's black.
Chick: I think I see a lumpy thing here. It might be a fava bean covered in squid ink. (tastes squid ink-covered fava bean) Yes, it's definitely a fava bean. And I think these round, blackish rings are the baby squid.
Dude: (tries round, blackish ring) Yes, yes, it's squid. Ok, so it just looks weird, but, so far everything tastes pretty...Gaa! What did I just eat?
Chick: What did it look like?
Dude: I don't know. It was covered in squid ink. I couldn't tell, but it felt like a wet sponge.
Chick: Maybe that was the sea urchin. Have you ever eaten sea urchin before?
Dude: No, but that was probably it. Here, taste it.
Chick: (tastes it) Yuck, that's strong and fishy...and what's with the bizarre textures in all of these dishes? Suba thinks it's painfully chic and exotic, perhaps, but it's so unappealing. (holding back vomit) This is some sort of highfalutin, crazy ingredient, pretend tapas place and I don't feel well and I'm getting sweaty and I need to find my happy place.

The server returns.

Server: May I show you the dessert menu?
Dude: No, I think we're done.
Chick: (starts to cry; she does not like to leave a restaurant hungry)

EPILOGUE: Chick knows that she's a big wuss for not mentioning her less-than-pleasant experience to her server or restaurant manager and using her blog to bash the meal. She would appreciate it if you could not lose respect for her.

Spill

I went out tonight for my nightly walk around the neighborhood. When I walk, I walk quickly and I don't like to stop or slow down, so I set my steps at a pace where I can maneuver right, then left around other pedestrians and I zigzag around blocks so I never have to wait for a light to change before I can cross a street.

It's still pretty chilly out here—the "real feel" temperature is 8 degrees this evening—and I had my hands jammed into my pockets to keep my fingers from getting frostbitten. As I rounded the corner on E. 3rd Street, a couple was approaching me and, instead of moving out of the way to let them pass (because hardly anyone around here ever moves out of the way to let someone else go by), I stepped up on the curb and onto a mound of snowy ice left over from the last storm. Before I knew it, but, yet, somehow in slow motion, I went down, landing on my left knee—giving myself a good-looking scrape like I was some twelve-year-old skateboarder—and caught my fall by grabbing the sidewalk with my wrists. It's been a very long time since I've fallen like that and it felt weird, but I knew it was going to happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it mid-action.

The odd thing is that, as they were passing me (before I fell), I overheard the couple's conversation and the guy was telling his girlfriend that he doesn't like to keep his hands in his pockets in case he falls. Was he clairvoyant? Was I dreaming the whole thing? I don't believe in coincidences—and I've been getting the feeling that the universe has been trying to tell me something lately—so what's all this about?

Today's recipe:

Milk. Don't cry over it.

Garlicky goodness

Welcome, class, to today's Fresh Pick: GARLIC

Garlic has long been credited with providing and prolonging physical strength and was fed to Egyptian slaves building the giant pyramids. Throughout the centuries, its medicinal claims have included cures for toothaches, consumption, open wounds and evil demons.

A member of the lily family, garlic is a cousin to leeks, chives, onions and shallots. The edible bulb or "head" grows beneath the ground. This bulb is made up of sections called cloves, each encased in its own parchmentlike membrane. Today's major garlic suppliers include the United States (mainly California, Texas and Louisiana), France, Spain, Italy and Mexico.

There are three major types of garlic available in the United States: the white-skinned, strongly flavored American garlic; the Mexican and Italian garlic, both of which have mauve-colored skins and a somewhat milder flavor; and the Paul Bunyanesque, white-skinned "elephant" garlic (which is not a true garlic, but a relative of the leek), the most mildly flavored of the three. Depending on the variety, cloves of American, Mexican and Italian garlic can range from 1/2 to 1 1/2 inches in length. Elephant garlic (grown mainly in California) has bulbs the size of a small grapefruit, with huge cloves averaging 1 ounce each. It can be purchased through mail order and in some gourmet markets. Green garlic, available occasionally in specialty produce markets, is young garlic before it begins to form cloves. It resembles a baby leek, with a long green top and white bulb, sometimes tinged with pink. The flavor of a baby plant is much softer than that of mature garlic. Fresh garlic is available year-round.

Purchase firm, plump bulbs with dry skins. Avoid heads with soft or shriveled cloves, and those stored in the refrigerated section of the produce department. Store fresh garlic in an open container (away from other foods) in a cool, dark place. Properly stored, unbroken bulbs can be kept up to 8 weeks, though they will begin to dry out toward the end of that time. Once broken from the bulb, individual cloves will keep from 3 to 10 days.

Garlic is usually peeled before use in recipes. Crushing, chopping, pressing or puréeing garlic releases more of its essential oils and provides a sharper, more assertive flavor than slicing or leaving it whole. Garlic is readily available in forms other than fresh*. Dehydrated garlic flakes (sometimes referred to as instant garlic) are slices or bits of garlic that must be reconstituted before using (unless added to a liquid-based dish, such as soup or stew). When dehydrated garlic flakes are ground, the result is garlic powder. Garlic salt is garlic powder blended with salt and a moisture-absorbing agent. Garlic extract and garlic juice are derived from pressed garlic cloves. Though all of these products are convenient, they're a poor flavor substitute for the less expensive, readily available and easy-to-store fresh garlic.

One unfortunate side effect of garlic is that, because its essential oils permeate the lung tissue, it remains with the body long after it's been consumed, affecting breath and even skin odor. Chewing chlorophyll tablets or fresh parsley is helpful but, unfortunately, modern-day science has yet to find the perfect antidote for residual garlic odor.

*Do this and die.

For some great recipes, click here or here or try this simple appetizer:

1 bulb garlic
1 Tbsp olive oil
Salt & pepper
1 baguette, sliced (Italian or French bread)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Slice off very tip of garlic so that tops of cloves are exposed. Lay entire bulb on aluminum foil; drizzle with oil and sprinkle lightly with salt & pepper. Wrap bulb loosely in foil and pop in oven for about 45 minutes or until skin is translucent and bulb is squishy** to the touch. Remove from oven and let cool about 15 minutes.

Squeeze cloves from bulb and spread onto baguette slices. The roasting will remove the pungency of the garlic and give the cloves a mellow, nutty flavor, so go ahead and kiss someone you love immediately after eating!

**Squishy [skwish-ee]: a technical culinary term.

Jalapeño: Hot stuff!

Welcome, class, to today's Fresh Pick: JALAPEÑO

Named after Jalapa, the capital of Veracruz, Mexico, these smooth, dark green (scarlet red when ripe) chiles range from hot to very hot. They have a rounded tip and are about 2 inches long and 3/4 to 1 inch in diameter. Besides their flavor, jalapeños [hah-lah-PEH-nyohs] are quite popular because they're so easily seeded (the seeds and veins are extremely hot). They're available fresh and canned and are used in a variety of sauces, sometimes stuffed with cheese, fish or meat, and in a multitude of dishes. In their dried form, jalapeños are known as chipotles. America’s favorite chile pepper is by far the jalapeño, which is milder than its cousin, the serrano.

The spiciness in the jalapeño comes from a compound called capsaicin that is found in all hot peppers. Interestingly enough, capsaicin is found in no other plant than the chile pepper. A single drop of this substance combined with 100,000 parts water is still noticeably spicy. Capsaicin itself is tasteless and odorless and is produced by the glands in the chile pepper’s placenta (ew, yes, the placenta), found at the top portion of the pepper below the stem.

NOTE: The placenta is about sixteen times hotter than the rest of the pepper and is usually removed along with the seeds (another hot part of the pepper) when preparing food. If you’re looking for a good kick with your dishes, leave it in along with the seeds. Additionally, when handling chile peppers, you should always wear rubber gloves to avoid contact with the pepper oils. The oils can cause a burning sensation on the skin.

For some great recipes, click here or here or try this great party dish:

1 14 oz bag extra thick tortilla chips
3 cups refried beans
3 cups cheddar cheese, grated
4 jalapeño peppers, sliced

Preheat oven to 350°F. Arrange a layer of tortilla chips along the bottom of a wide, shallow baking pan. If possible, use a baking pan that also can be used as a serving pan, such as a ceramic platter. Spread the refried beans over the chips. Sprinkle the grated cheese over the top of chips and beans. Sprinkle slices of jalapeño peppers over the cheese. Bake in oven for 10 minutes, or until cheese is melted.

Serve with dollops of salsa, sour cream, and/or guacamole. Top with chopped cilantro to be extra fancy.

Serves 8.

Aw, honey, honey!

Welcome, class, to today's Fresh Pick: HONEY

Honey is a thick, sweet liquid made by bees from flower nectar. When a honey bee takes nectar from a flower, it stores it in a "honey sack." When this honey sack is full, it returns to the hive, deposits the drop of nectar into the honeycomb, and evaporates the water out of the nectar by fanning its wings. Once the honey has aged, wax is used to seal it in the comb, which keeps it clean and safe.

Some facts about honeybees:
*A honeybee makes 154 trips for one teaspoon of honey.
*A colony produces 60 to 100 pounds of honey a year.
*To gather a pound of honey, a bee flies a distance equal to more than three times around the world. It takes two million flowers to make one pound of honey.

Contrary to what many people think, a honey's color and flavor does not derive from the bee, but from the nectar's source. In general, the darker the color, the stronger the flavor. There are hundreds of different honeys throughout the world, most of them named for the flower from which they originate. The flowers that produce some of America's most popular honeys are clover, orange blossom and sage. Other honeys, some of which are only available in limited quantities in the region from which they originate, come from the following blossoms: alfalfa, buckwheat, dandelion, heather, linden, raspberry, spearmint and thyme, just to name a few.

When using honey in cooking, it's important to know its source — buckwheat honey, for example, has far too strong a flavor to be used in a recipe that calls for orange blossom honey, which has a light, delicate fragrance and flavor. Honey comes in three basic forms: comb honey, with the liquid still in the chewy comb, both of which are edible; chunk-style honey, which is honey with pieces of the honeycomb included in the jar; and regular liquid honey that has been extracted from the comb, much of which has been pasteurized to help prevent crystallization. Other honey products such as honey butters, honey spreads and whipped honey are available at most supermarkets.

Store tightly sealed liquid honey in a cool, dry place for up to a year; store comb and chunk honey for 6 months. When refrigerated, honey crystallizes, forming a gooey, grainy mass. It can easily be reliquefied by placing the opened jar either in a microwave oven at 100 percent power for about 30 seconds (depending on the amount), or in a pan of hot water over low heat for 10 to 15 minutes.

Honey is widely used as a bread spread and as a sweetener and flavoring agent for baked goods, liquids (such as tea), desserts and in some cases savory dishes like honey-glazed ham or carrots.

Check out The National Honey Board for more nifty information about honey.

NOTE: Honey, corn syrup, and other natural sweeteners are a potential threat to infants. Since an infant's digestive excretions are non-acidic, ingestion of honey creates an ideal medium for botulinum endospores to grow and produce sufficient levels of toxins to cause infant botulism. For this reason, it is advised that neither honey, nor any other sweetener, be given to children under the age of 18 months. Once a child is eating solid food, the stomach produces enough gastric acid to prevent the germination of the endospores.

For some great recipes, click here or here or try this simple dish:

1 lb chicken tenders
Salt & pepper
1 Tbsp olive oil
1/4 c. yellow or Dijon mustard
1/4 c. honey

Salt & pepper both sides of chicken tenders. Sauté chicken lightly in olive oil over medium high heat (about 4 minutes per side). Stir in mustard and honey to coat chicken and continue to cook another 2-3 minutes until chicken is no longer pink inside. Serve with buttered noodles and a side salad.

UPDATE: This just in from RealAge.com's Tip of the Day.

Idaho? You da ho!

Welcome, class, to today's Fresh Pick: IDAHO POTATO

The Idaho potato is considered by many to be the best variety of America's most popular potato for baking, also known as the Russet Burbank or, more commonly, the russet. Though some russets grown elsewhere are commonly called Idaho potatoes, many Idaho government officials are pushing to make the name exclusive to spuds grown in local soil. Idaho grown potatoes have a high solids content, so there's more potato and less water. The high quantity of starch grains cook to a light, fluffy texture and full, firm appearance when properly prepared. To be sure you're getting genuine, top-quality Idaho Potatoes, look for the "Grown in Idaho" seal, which features a silhouette of the state of Idaho, and for the registered certification mark, "Idaho Potatoes."

Peru's Inca Indians were the first to cultivate potatoes in about 200 B.C. The Incas had many uses for potatoes, which ranged in size from a small nut to an apple and in color from red and gold to blue and black. Raw slices were placed on broken bones, carried to prevent rheumatism and eaten with other foods to prevent indigestion. The Incas also used potatoes to measure time correlating units of time by how long it took potatoes to grow.

The Spanish conquistadores discovered the potato in 1537 in the Andean village of Sorocota. They took potatoes with them on their return trip to Europe, where the vegetable had a difficult time being accepted. The potato, a member of the nightshade family, was considered by many to be poisonous or evil. It was thought to cause leprosy and syphilis and was considered a dangerous aphrodisiac. With the help of Germany's King Frederick William, France's Parmentier and England's Sire Walter Raleigh, the potato was soon popularized throughout Europe.

The first potatoes arrived in North America in 1621 when Captain Nathanial Butler, then governor of Bermuda, sent two large cedar chests containing potatoes and other vegetables to Francis Wyatt, governor of Virginia at Jamestown. The first permanent North American potato patches were established in New England around 1719, most likely near Londonderry (now Derry), New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants.

Idaho's first potato grower was not a farmer at all, but a Presbyterian missionary, Henry Harmon Spalding. Had he been seeking a life in Idaho as a farmer, the chances are good that he would have found land more suitable to agriculture rather than the locale at Lapwai where he established his mission in 1836 to bring Christianity to the Nez Perce Indians. His plan was to demonstrate to the Nez Perce that they could provide food for themselves through agriculture rather than hunting and gathering. In 1837, the buffalo herds were beginning to be depleted by market hunting and encroachment on their natural domain. Spalding was astute enough to see that the lifestyle of the Indians was changing and that they would soon need other sources of food. By offering to teach them how to raise agricultural crops, he added an additional benefit to the white man's religion that helped gather the Nez Perce around his Lapwai mission. The Indians eventually cultivated and planted fifteen acres for themselves and probably consummated the first commercial sale of Idaho grown potatoes when they found that hungry immigrants traveling in the wagon trains would trade clothing and other goods that the Indians wanted for fresh potatoes.

Genuine Idaho potatoes have a rounded, somewhat elongated shape, few and shallow eyes, net-textured skin and a deep brown color. Look for clean, smooth, firm-textured potatoes that have no cuts, bruises or discoloration. Don't buy potatoes that are soft or have excessive cuts, cracks, bruises or discoloration and decay. If your potatoes have any green spots, pare them off before cooking because they could taste bitter.

High in both vitamin C and and potassium, potatoes are good for you, just watch what you put on them. Try salsa or steamed or sautéed vegetables on a baked potato instead of butter and sour cream and watch the portion sizes on those fries. A medium potato has 26 grams of carbs and 3 grams of sugar. (For more information, please visit this wonderful resource.)

For some great recipes, click here or here or try this simple dish:

4 medium Idaho potatoes

Pre-heat oven to 450°F. Wash and dry potatoes. With a fork or sharp knife, pierce each potato 2 or 3 times. Place on cookie sheet or baking pan. Bake 50 to 60 minutes or until tender when pierced with a fork.

MICROWAVE METHOD: Wash and dry potatoes. With a fork or sharp knife, pierce each potato 2 or 3 times. Place potatoes in a circle on a paper towel, leaving a 1-inch space between each potato. Cook on high for 15 to 20 minutes or until tender when pierced with a fork, turning once during cooking and removing any that are done after 15 minutes. Let potatoes stand for 5 to 10 minutes before serving.

Joyeuses Pâques...en chocolat.

Cher M. Jacques Torres,


Je t'adore.

Seconds

I couldn't get enough of the great deals during Restaurant Week ($35 three-course dinners at some of the city's best restaurants), so I reserved a table at Django where Marc joined me after work for a second night of eating out.

Inspired by the legendary French gypsy and jazz guitarist, Django Reinhardt, Django's décor and riviera cuisine sweep visitors away to the French Riviera as it calls on rich ingredients of France and the Mediterranean.

The Restaurant Week menu was simple, but provided enough variety although, in the end, Marc and I ordered the exact same appy (Sweet Jersey Corn Chowder) and dessert (Bittersweet Chocolate Financier—a light, spongy tea cake—topped with a summer apricot mousse), but chose different entrées. I went with the delicate, yet flavorful Pan-Seared Chatham Cod served with heirloom tomatoes, basmati rice, and braised rainbow chard while Marc opted for the Herb Roasted Pork Loin which was accompanied by a grilled peach chutney, hominy, and mustard greens.

We were seated in a private, quiet corner inside a Moroccan-esque curtained room that featured a modern, sleek leather banquette that ran along the walls of the room and were topped with ornately decorated pillows, perfect for resting my weary spine after a long day at work. The rest of the establishment holds about 300 with a terrace that's open during summer that promises diners will "experience an oasis in the heart of Midtown with our beautiful hedges and fresh flowers."

Marc and I were impressed by the seasonal cuisine and fresh flavors at Django and we both enjoyed our meals a great deal, but, in comparison, last night's dinner was better. And, also for the second night in a row, I walked all the way home in yet another pair of high heels—this time a fabulous pair of mauve, open-toe Enzo Angiolini pumps. I can say, with 100% certainty, that I will only be wearing sneakers for the next four days...but, boy, was it worth it.

Bite of the apple.

It's Restaurant Week this week (last week, too, actually), so I enjoyed a fantastic dinner—probably one of the best I've eaten in months—this evening with L at Marcus Samuelsson's Asian-fusion restaurant Riingo. While L chose items off the main menu, I went with the prix fixe Restaurant Week menu (for $35) which included an appetizer of Salmon Avocado Sushi Roll, a main course of perfectly seared Hangar Steak served over buttery, creamy, smooth mashed Japanese sweet potatoes and grilled tomatoes, and crispy-and-sugary-on-the-outside, soft-and-gooey-on-the-inside Green Tea Donuts with green tea ice cream on the side (pictured here on right).

At the age of 36, chef Marcus Samuelsson's achievements read like those of a seasoned veteran. But he is a young, accomplished chef still on the rise, elevating the bar for culinary excellence. After attaining critical and popular success for his interpretive Scandinavian cuisine at Aquavit, Samuelsson conceived Riingo to further challenge his creative sensibilities. In this modern restaurant, inventive versions of American and Japanese classics coexist on a single menu.

With a name inspired by the Japanese word for "apple" (the iconic symbol of New York City), Riingo's menu reflects chef and proprietor Marcus Samuelsson's creativity, his admiration for American and Japanese cuisine, and the diversity of flavor that New York represents.

I love to eat, but I hate going to the gym, so in order to compensate for the massive amounts of yummies I jammed in my craw tonight, I walked all the way home—about three miles—in 4-inch strappy heels. Needless to say, I'm pretty proud of myself right now, although, admittedly, about six blocks from my apartment, it started to feel as though there was a tiny barbed wire pressed against my left ankle. Ah, the lengths I'll go to for great food.