Sriracha Peas

I always thought that sriracha was the brand name of what's commonly know as rooster sauce (Does sriracha trip off your tongue?)  Nope, it's a generic name for a Thai hot (and slightly sweet) chili-based condiment used for dipping; however, I put sriracha on popcorn, on scrambled eggs, on devilled eggs, on goat cheese, on grilled cheese, and on and on.  Now, Hapi Snacks brings us, direct from Thailand, a major breakthrough: sriracha-coated peas.  I generally like stuff with more stuff, and this is a satisfying example.  They may need a pinch more salt, but I say that about most things.  Unless I say it needs more sriracha.

Dumpling Festival Coming to a Park Near You (well, most of you)

Passed this soggy poster earlier today, and can't find out very much more. The website is pretty much the poster, not much information.  I can tell you that there will be tons of dumplings, as well as a dumpling-eating contest.  The whole shebang benefits the Food Bank for New York City, which helps combat hunger here at home.

You Say Cannolis, I Say Cannoli

On my way home from the Union Square farmer's market, laden with squash, shallots, apples, grapes, and all manner of things healthy and organic, I became fearful that my diet was getting entirely too healthy.  So,  before even unpacking my groceries, I stopped in at the new bakery around the corner, Stuffed Artisan Cannolis, on Stanton between Attorney and Clinton.

I broke my resolve not go all pedantic about cannolis instead of cannoli as soon as I walked in the door.  The owner, Anthony Fontana, who was behind the counter, told me that his mother wasn't too crazy about the name, either, and reminded him that it's "Cannolo, cannoli," but said that he remembers growing up hearing people referring to a box of cannolis. Having grown up in a largely Italian Brooklyn neighborhood, I do, too, and gave in on the point.
The wee cannoli(s) come in an impressive variety of flavors: birthday cake, peanut butter cup, red licorice, cappucino...and lots more, although not all flavors are available every day.  Being of sadly small appetite, I was delighted to be able to get three three-bite cannoli(s) for five bucks.

I chose, left to right, apple pie, plain, and French toast.  The French toast, with little slices of French-toasty- flavored little cookies at either end, was my favorite.  The apple pie was redolent of both apple and cinnamon.  The plain was a fine plain cannoli but, with all the options available, I think I'm going to keep exploring the more recondite flavors.
  I was given a taste of Nutella filling as I was on my way out, which mercifully prevented me from pointing out that, "Stuffed Artisan Cannolis" sound as though the cannoli(s) are made by a stuffed artisan. Perhaps they are; if I spent much time there, I'd be pretty stuffed, too.

Pumpkins and Mochi: Separated at Birth?

A long weekend of shopping and eating.  Went to M2M market on Third Avenue in search of the elusive Pizza Pretz, which is still missing from the shelves.  Picked up some other snacks, including passion-fruit mochi, which bore a striking resemblance to pumpkins I encountered later at the Union Square Farmer's Market.

Cranberry Bogs and Macarons

Visited the Ocean Spray cranberry bog at Rockefeller Center,  an annual installation that I'd not been aware of.  It's cute, but a cranberry bog is probably more exciting in situ.  In midtown, it's just a bunch of floating cranberries, although I did appreciate the free juice.

  The tourist-riddled area is also home to La Maison du Chocolat, which is well worth a visit, particularly if you've got money that you don't know how to get rid of.  I bought two macarons--raspberry and coffee--that were, in fact, well worth the $2.50 price tag, even though each one was about the size of a stack of three silver dollars.*  The raspberry was particularly well executed, suffused with the essence of the berry without being in the least cloying.  The coffee leaned a bit toward the mocha, but was quite satisfying as well.  More fun that a tubful of cranberries!

*Sadly, they barely survived the trip home in my purse.

Part One: The Maine Chronicles, or, Does Coleslaw Count as a Vegetable?

Spent much of the last month travelling, most recently in Bruce's ancestral homeland, Maine, which, over the last decade, has burst forth in the most dangerous traffic circles I've ever seen. Mercifully, we survived--and ate.

Day One: Seven hours on the bus, get through Portland as quickly as possible, and head to Bayley's Lobster Pound

on Pine Point, our traditional first stop. We ordered two shrimp rolls, two lobster, and two crab. The rolls themselves are much sturdier than the standard Maine roll; they would probably hold up well to meatball parm. That said, the meat in each roll is fresh and sparkles with salinity. These are not overstuffed, ridiculous NY-style lobster rolls. (Never thought I'd see the day I typed NY-style lobster roll. I was once amused at Bruce's father's gobsmackedness when we told him that, no, you couldn't get a lobster roll in New York. That's all changed, of course; you can get them everywhere, if you're willing to pay thirty dollars or so for a ton of lobster salad that dwarves the butter-grilled bun to the point where it looks like a damned crouton. Further aside: I don't like the idea of being able to get all foods all the time everywhere. I want to eat poutine on Old Orchard Beach, not Orchard Street.*) You can walk with a Maine lobster roll, and don't need a fork to eat it. All the rolls were under eight bucks. The shrimp roll was three.

Day Two: Wake up starving. By the time we get out the door, however, all the local joints have stopped serving breakfast and haven't starting serving lunch. Drive to the roadside stand at Higgins Beach for sustenance and, due to a breakdown in domestic communications (I wanted a doughnut), we wind up with a bag of white chocolate-macadamia cookies, which hold us until My Favorite Restaurant in the World opens at eleven. Ken's makes the best fried clams ever, which will become a bit of a sore point as the trip rolls on. This time, at least, I agree with Bruce that perhaps it's a bit early to hit the Frialator, and order a breakfast of clam chowder, clam cakes, and Maine's own Shipyard Brewing Company's Pumpkinhead Ale, which almost made feel me as though I were drinking something healthy.

The ordering system is typical of Maine seafood houses. Place your order at one window, take a receipt with your order number and pickup window on it, and wait to be called. The time never passes slowly; there's always a little sideshow to watch. For example, there were a disconcerting number of senior couples drinking chocolate milk with their fried clams. Most peculiar.

Breakfast is deeply satisfying. The clam cakes are plain and dowdy in a thoroughly Maine way, chewy with clams in a dense almost-pancakish batter. Ken's chowder threw me for a loop, something I've come to expect at Ken's. The chowder was among the best I've ever had: no flour, no filler, no garlic, mercifully, but lots of floury potatoes, clams, pork, and dairy goodness. I'll have to add it to list of must-haves at Ken's, which is growing problematically long. Bruce and I have finally figured why this place never makes it into food magazines. No dock. Scenic view of the parking lot. Needless to say, I am fine with this.

P.S. We returned for dinner, for lobster rolls, Bruce nixing a shared order of fried clams. I am growing restive.
*According to today's NY Times loony L.L. Bean descendant Linda Bean is buying up lobster wharfs in the hope of establishing lobster-roll franchises across the nation. She wants to change the name of lobster claws to lobster cuddlers, as the word claws sounds "scary." Great. First the lobster roll was tarted up beyond recognition by New York chefs; now it's going to be dumbed down into a McBean Cuddler. Head north and get the real thing while you still can. Or make your own; more on that later.

Farewell, Gourmet

Sad news, via the National Post's the Appetizer.  Gourmet magazine, which began publication in 1940, is no more.  Upside?  I have a copy of the first issue, complete with subscription card.  I'm guessing that its value just went up a bit.

Some Lobsters Are Good, Summer Not

Lobsters in the summer are not all that tasty, as the shedding of the shell results in water-logged flesh, but I'm expected to conjure up lobster rolls in late August every year for the man from Maine's birthday.  Didn't have time to schlep to the Lobster Place (having left just about everything this week until the very last minute), so bought a large cooked one at Citarella.  A little tough, a little bland.  But--and I can't stress this enough--all summer lobsters  pretty much suck.  I do things to them I would never dream of doing to a winter lobster.
  Confronted with thirty dollars of chewy dullness, I chopped the lobster meat pretty fine, and tossed it with lemon and lemon zest.  Then, I added four small chiffonaded tarragon leaves and some chopped chives.  And mayo, lots of mayo.  Chill.
  Also made a variety of cole slaw that has become quite popular in Maine over the last couple of decades; it includes canned pineapple in syrup.  I'll get back to that another day.  Heading for the Jersey shore; if I have connectivity, expect posts on corn and grilling and all that beachy stuff.  If not, see you in September.

Tomato Squishy

My favorite summer sandwich. Squishy white bread (ultrafresh Wonder, for example), juicy tomato, mayo, salt, pepper. Do not mess with this; do not add anything. Slice, spread with mayo, season, squish (press down with your hand), serve. Repeat.

Southern Shells

As served on Amtrak's Silver Star, heading to Florida. Stuffed shells were flaccid, but the filling--pimento cheese lightened with ricotta--was, um, interesting in a school cafeteria sort of way. As autumn approaches, I'm going to play with this idea and try to create a truly appealing cross between stuffed shells and mac 'n' cheese.