Tragic News from Chinatown

Hong Kong Supermarket, one of my favorite places (and one that I covered for SENY, posted here), burned last night. NY Times has a bare-bones story.

Asparagus Alfredo

Sorry to have been silent for so long but, as many of you know, I was assaulted a few weeks ago by a homicidal sidewalk. I have at last recovered; sadly, the sidewalk is still at large. Anyway, back to it.

May's Saveur features a piece by Todd Coleman on the origins of fettuccine Alfredo, accompanied by his well-researched version of the original recipe. (Only the recipe is posted online, if you want to read the whole story, you'll have to buy the magazine, which you should anyway; it's a monthly masterpiece.) Coleman touches the usual bases: A real man named Alfredo originated the dish. It was eventually sampled by Douglas Fairbanks Sr. and Mary Pickford, soon after which it became a worldwide phenomenon. Finally, that fettuccine Alfredo should never be made with cream, as most Americans (why are we always the benighted ones, anyway?) believe.

I like cream. Cream makes almost everything better...except for severe body bruises and a bloody lip...um, where was I? And I do particularly like cream with fettuccine, lots of parm, peas, and bacon. But I know damn well that it's not authentic; even Chef Boy-Ar-Dee would sneer at its pretension.

Coleman's recipe, based on a great deal of research, intrigued me, and when a recipe intrigues me, I pretty much want to make it right now. The only problem was that that evening I was dining alone, and his recipe used 1 pound of dried fettuccine and 1/2 pound of butter, which, even for me, seemed rather excessive. Then I thought of the pound of fresh farmer's market asparagus sitting at home in the fridge. Was asparagus Alfredo even possible? It was not only possible, it was rich, unctuous, and just a bit offbeat. Try it while those stalks are still going cheap at your local market. Please don't bother with imports; they won't cut it in this dish.

Asparagus Alfredo
(serves one as a main dish, two as a side)

1 pound asparagus (a mix of thick and thin)
2 or so tablespoons butter, cut into bits
2 generous handsful parmesan (I cheated and used Russo's parm-romano blend)
freshly ground black pepper

Bring a pan of salted water to a healthy simmer.
Break off ends of asparagus. Peel bottom two inches or so with a vegetable peeler (This seems to cut down on stringiness.)
Add asparagus to water, cooking about five minutes. The asparagus should be bendable and tossable, and the really skinny stalks almost soft. Crisp-tender (dreadful concept) does not work here.

Meanwhile, run a flat bowl under hot water until warm. Place the butter bits in the bowl. Remove the asparagus from the pan, roll in the butter, then throw a handful of cheese on top, tossing with great abandon. The thinnest stalks will shred a bit which is just fine. Add the rest of the cheese, along with a tablespoon or two of the cooking water to smooth it out, and toss even more madly. Top with a grind or two of pepper and serve.

Sour!

Per Eater, the wonderful Good World is gone for good. I'll miss the Swedish meatballs and the herring.

Fat Hippo*

Had six wee burgers from Fat Hippo (71 Clinton St. @ Rivington). The dish is billed as a burger fondue, and comes with a truly execrable floury, pasty cheese sauce. The idea is that you dip the burger in the sauce, then in the accompanying chopped onions, pickles, and bacon bits. After tasting the alleged cheese sauce, I dipped my little burgerlets in ketchup, then the bits. Quite a nice mouthful, and unexpectedly and beautifully rare.
The show stopper was the appetizer beet tart with olives, goat cheese, and beet jam. Sadly, it was hacked to bits before I could grab a camera. It was a lovely combination of tartness and sweet earthiness in a wonderfully short crust.
*The reason we got takeout from Fat Hippo is the same reason I have been so silent here: a sudden mountain of work combined with a back so bad that I was flat on it for a few days.

Sweet !

Up to my eyeballs in work after having almost none for the first two months of 2009. Will be back to posting regularly in a couple of days, but wanted to pass along this great NYT story about candy during tough time, with a something of a focus on one of my favorite places on earth, Economy Candy, which I wrote about for Serious Eats last year.

Apple Molasses

From one of my favorite fruit growers, Red Jacket Orchards, a line of syrups: Apple cider molasses, essentially cook-down cider, in plain, spiced, and smoked(!), among others. I bought the plain molasses, and keep coming up with new ways to use it. It made for a lovely glazed ham steak and, the next morning, drizzled in on my usual goat cheese on Kavli. Best of all? The good-sized squeeze bottle is only three dollars and needs no refrigeration. I'll report on the smoked version soon. Can't wait!

32 Shopping Days until Easter

That can only mean the return of green Peeps*, those little marshmallow activists, saving the world one whale at a time.
Not forgetting that Easter also means the annual quaffing of the Peepacoladas!*Amazing website.

Feeling Crabby

Since I discovered Maine crab, I won't buy any other kind. It's essential for crab rolls, which are definitely superior to lobster rolls. Last week, on that beautiful Saturday, I wanted to make crab for dinner, as a salute to the evanescent nature of spring.

I strolled over to the Lobster Place, but they were down to only one container of Maine crab--I guess other Maine expats or Maine-by-marriage types (like me) had the same idea. Headed to Citarella and picked up another half pound there. The difference was noticeable: Citarella's crab is to the left, Lobster Place to the right. While the crab from Citarella was absolutely fresh and unimpeachable, the crab from Lobster Place, reached up with its claws, tweaked my nose and shouted: "Crab! Ocean!" I found the larger chunks more appealing as well.

Given the disparity in the appearance of the two, I decided on crab cakes instead, using even less mayonnaise and few breadcrumbs that usual. The smaller and larger chunks melded well, yielding damn near perfect crab cakes. Next time I'm making crab rolls, however, I think that the Lobster Place would be my first choice.

That Wouldn't Fly in Flatbush

After reading in the NY Post that size-minus-zero Gwynnie had stopped at the Lower East Side's San Marzano for a slice, I should have known that their slices would be on the slender side, but a more meager slice I have never eaten. Perhaps it's my Brooklyn pizza perspective, but I expect a slice to be a meal. My two slices left me decidedly unsated, and my wallet lighter than expected.
I had deciding on one pomodoro (mozzarella, tomatoes, garlic, basil, parsley, extra virgin olive oil) slice, one margherita (mozzarella, san marzano tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, basil). To my disappointment, the pomodoro was unavailable in slice form right then. However, slicers can't be choosers, so I went for the quattro formaggi (mozzarella, fontina, ricotta, gorgonzola). The other options, including chicken with pesto, were too fussy.
The slices looked a bit on the small side, but I guess I was so eager to get them home that I didn't realize how just how small. These slices are tiny. Appetizer tiny. Each slice weighed 3 ounces and measured 5 inches from crust to tip. At $3.50 per slice (slice prices are not posted in store, nor do they appear on the menu), that is not a lot of pizza.
What there is of them is so-so. The margherita was not to my taste, sweet and unsubtle. I tossed on some parm, which perked it up a bit . The quattro formaggi was better, riddled with creamy puffs of ricotta; the only off note was the gorgonzola, which shouted down the other cheeses . I finished both slices (something I haven't managed since high school), right down to the lovely crisp, bubbly crust, but I don't think crust alone will lure me back.

San Marzano Brick Oven Pizzeria
71 Clinton St, New York 10002

Big Balls in Bensonhurst

Headed out to Bensonhurt recently to research an upcoming Serious Eats New York post on the weird but yummy slipper lobster. Once done with that, I set out to explore a neighborhood I hadn't been to in forever.
First stop is a branch of the three decades old local chain, Meats Supreme, whose slogan is "Where Family Tradition Still Matters." Almost didn't go in, as it looked like a standard Brooklyn independent market (and thank god some still exist!) from the outside, and was packed with shoppers doing their Saturday marketing. That would have been a big mistake as, in the back of the store, there was a huge case of prepared foods, lots of it Italian, including two or three kinds of rice ball(I lost track, the sight of all that food before lunch was making me dizzy). I got the large, which might better have been called enormous. (Also scored a package of the elusive Thomas' English Muffin Maple French Toast, which is ethnically confused, but yummy.)
Hopped on the el, got home, and sauced up the balls, which were more packed with meat than any I've ever seen. No snack these, but a full meal.
Meats Supreme
1949 86th Street
Brooklyn