December 29, 2005

Trimalchio’s Banquet Redux: Mario Batali Meets Meat Packing Head On

Satyi

Trimalchio’s Banquet Redux: Mario Battali Meets Meat Packing Head On.

Or, Chelsea Market Goes Empire, Roman Style

One of the most talked about culinary events of the year (other than Michelin poking its Gaulois nez into Gotham gossip) is no doubt the opening of Mario Batali’s Del Posto, on the ever glammifying avenue 10.

Do not think simple. Do not think of the celebrated understatement of a Passard. Instead, think excess. Think Trimalchio’s Banquet.

Note: Nothing announces an Empire like excessive feasting.

Too Much is Never Enough:
In a time when many well-respected chefs such as Rick Moonen (now in Las Vegas), who serves only sustainable seafood and Passard, who raises exquisite vegetables as the main attraction, Batali is serving up an entire rack of lamb. When a respectable cut of Kobe beef fetches over $60 at most Gotham tables, Batali is offering an entire loin. Instead of one endangered sea bass, Batali could, if he were so inclined, serve an entire school, along with the roe and fried hatchlings as garnish; or he could stuff a sow with her own roasted sucklings; or he could roast an
entire bison and have diners eat their way through it, and give a prize on the other side.

The possibilities are endless. Just stuff yourself until you have to regurgitate in the exquisitely tiled bathroom, gilded and temperature controlled, with mood lighting and scented with rare flowers. Why not? Is it not the right of every American to wallow in well-earned excess, to bedeck and bejewel and bestuff ourselves to the point of projectile vomiting?

Note: “Vomitorium” is not a Roman word for “a place to vomit”. It is architectural term for “passageway”.

Yes, Too much is Too Much:
The disturbing thing about the excess of an entire rack of veal is that there is no reason for it; after one has satisfied immediate taste requirements, how much does one need to fill ones belly? Do any of us really need to eat that many lamb chops to feel sated, especially when other foods are on the table, and in gargantuan portions?
Does any diner really have to have a hecatomb slaughtered for his or her own sake? Are we so hubristic that we need temple-sized portions in order to satisfy some gloriosis need?

Apparently, we are and we do and we will, like a bunch of petty nobles, surge through the doors of Batali’s new temple to excess in order to experience Trimalchio’s Banquet Redux .

Misnomer:
Instead of Del Posto, he should have called it “Apud Gluttonem” or “Dedecorus Decem”, Chez the Glutton or Dedecadent 10, respectively.

Excerpt from “The Banquet of Trimalchio” from the Satyricon by Petronious Arbiter:

At last we went to recline at table where boys from Alexandria poured snow water on our hands, while others, turning their attention to our feet, picked our nails – not silently, but singing the entire time. I wanted to see if the whole group could sing, and so I shouted for a drink, and a boy, ready and willing, brought me one, along with a peppy tune; but no matter what you asked for it was all the same song.

The first course was served and it was fairly well done; we all had a close and personal view of the table, except for Trimalchio - the place of honor had been reserved for him (keeping in step with the latest fashion). The first treats brought out included a little donkey made of Corinthian bronze, complete with saddle bags – one filled with white olives and the other with black. Over the donkey were two silver platters, engraved on the edges with Trimalchio's name – and the price tag for the silver. Dormice seasoned with honey and poppies were plated on little iron bridges; there were also steaming sausages carried in on a silver grate, covering a selection of imported Syrian plums and pomegranate grains.

As we were enjoying these treats, Trimalchio was carried in with a burst of music. The servers laid him down on a pile of pillows, very carefully; and then some of then some of the servers broke out in giggles, little wonder since Trimalchio’sbald head was peeping out at us from a under a red cape; and his neck was all wrapped up; and he was wearing a robe with a wide purple stripe, with tassels and fringes dangling all over him.

He picked at his teeth with a silver toothpick and said, "My friends, I really didn't want to have dinner so early, but I was afraid my absence would cause too great a delay, so I denied myself the pleasure I was at; well, anyway, I hope you'll let me finish my game." A slave followed, carrying a pine checkerboard complete with crystal dice; but the one thing that struck me as really remarkable was that he had gold and silver coins instead of the regular black and red plastic pieces. While he was cursing like a sailor over the game and we were moving on to the lighter dishes, a basket was brought in on a tray, with a wooden hen in it, her wings spread out , as if she were hatching.

Then two slaves came with their eternal singing, and began searching the straw, and pulled out some peahen's
eggs, and gave them to the guests. Trimalchio turned
around and said," Friends, I had some peahen's eggs placed under a hen, and so help me Hercules! I hope they're not hatched out; we'd better try if they're still tasty." And so we picked up our spoons (not less than six ounces of silver) and broke open the eggs – they were made of rich pastry. Good thing, too, because I was just about to throw mine away, thinking it had a chick in it, and I heard a regular say, "There must be something good in this," I explored it a little deeper and found a very fat fig-pecker inside, surrounded by peppered egg yolk.

At this point Trimalchio stopped playing checkers and demanded the same dishes; raising his voice he declared that if anyone wanted more liquor they just had to ask for it. All at once the band started playing, and the servers started singing as they removed the first course. In the mayhem, a plate crashed to the floor, and when a boy bent down to pick it up, Trimalchio smacked him a few times and then told him to "throw it down again", just so that a slave could come in and sweep up the silver platter along with the rest of the garbage. After that two long-haired Ethiopians entered with little jugs, like the ones used in the arena in the amphitheater, but instead of water they poured wine on our hands. Then wine was brought in, still corked, and with a note on the neck of each bottle, reading thus: " Opimian Falernia, One hundred years old. "

Tags:   10th avenue, excess, feasting, glam, gotham gossip, mario batali, meat packing, satyricon, tenth ave, trimalchio

December 28, 2005

New York's Eve - Oops! Make that New Year's Eve!

New York ’s Eve, er, that’s New Years Eve in New York

Our good friend Party Crasher has hinted at some hot spots for New Years Eve and with any luck some of us will be able to get in on some exclusive action. Drool, drool.


For those hoping to score a table at one of Zagat’s Most Popular (Mo-Pops) Restaurants, you may find yourself out in the cold. Tables have been booked for months now, and there simply is no room at the inn.

Reservations about Reservations

For those of you with commitment problems and those who squandered earlier opportunities to book a table at a fab spot, well, you are not alone. There will be plenty of elbowing all over the city as hopeful couples try to shoe-horn their way into a prix-fixe New Years Countdown, with complimentary champagne.

TIP: Try calling some of the larger restaurant groups, like Union Square Hospitality, BR Guest, Jean-Georges, or Flat Iron. Find out if any of their locations have a table for two or a waiting list.

What’s with the cocktails?

Today’s urban mixologists are to cocktails what the Impressionists once were to painting: A revolution of the senses and ones own expectations. Rather
than devoting the entire evening to cheap sparkling wine (let’s be honest – it’s not all Tattinger), many of the hot spots on the glitter map are serving wildly eccentric cocktails, visual and in all ways corporeal stimulants. Maybe popping in for a drink will help you ring in the New
Year in a festive yet less stressful way.

Egg whites? YES. Just in time for the New Year, part of the old ova delecta has found its way into the Silver Lining, a cocktail designed by Joseph Schwartz at Little Branch. These foamy high balls of rye-based pleasure with no doubt will be cloned all over town. Little Branch is located at Seventh Avenue South at Leroy Street; (212) 929-4360

A sprig of thyme? YOU BET! What better way to bring in the New Year than with magical herbs? Chemist (oops!), I mean mixologist Eben Klemm has designed an array of impressive drinks around the menu’s Mediterranean theme. Try a few at Level V, the late-night lounge scene at Vento. Located at 675 Hudson Street at 14th (and Avenue, in the triangle building); (212) 699-2400.

Inexplicable…

Club Pegu is now the prime spot for going out on a cocktail limb. Sure to be packed to the gills, Pegu promises surprise after surprise from the mad-scientist mind of Audrey Saunders. Let’s leave it at that. Located at 77 W. Houston Street, 2nd floor, between West Broadway and Wooster Street; (212) 473-7348

If all you want is champagne…

Then you must go to one of the two Flute locations, where champagne is the raison d’etre. Located at 205 W. 54th Street (between Broadway
7^th Avenue) or 40 E. 20th Street(between Broadway & Park Avenue South.

Or, if you like to wander around, head to the Brooklyn Bridge with your own bottle of bubbly and pop your cork there. Afterwards, you can do a bar crawl along Delancey or Bowery.

Whatever you decide to do, enjoy the New Year and please don’t get too tanked to make it home safely. Call a cab.

Tags:   babette, cocktails, eben klemm, glam, glitter, mand scientist, mixologist, party crasher, zagat

December 27, 2005

What tastes good when you have a cold?

Bad luck! I caught a cold just in time for the holiday eating fest. What wine goes well with menthol? NONE!

Here is some advice for those feeling a little under the weahter.

1. It is a myth that spicy food will in some way do damage to the bearer of a head cold. Sprinkle some red pepper flakes on your chicken soup. They will help you breathe more easily and will let you taste something other than the horrifying Halls Mentholyptus that you will be living on for the next ten days.

2. There is nothing like a hot water, honey, lemon juice and bourbon cocktail to help you make it through the cold, dark nights of your cold.

3. Stay away from deep fried food. This is good advice no matter how you feel.

4. While sleep is really the best cure, sometimes it is hard to sleep, especially if your throat hurts. Keep some Altoids by the bed - these do soothe the sore throat without the mentolyptus overdose you can get from halls.

5. Hot and Spicy Thai Soup - try this out.

Do your best to stay healthy, but if you find yourself sniffling for no apparent reason, try these 5 simple pieces of advice. They won't cure you, but they do give temporary relief.

Tags:   None

December 25, 2005

Merry Christmas, New York!

Here's to another successful ride on the Holiday Haywagon! We have made it through, a little battered and a littel bruised, but we have done it!

Next up: New Years Eve!

Tags:   None

December 21, 2005

New York on Strike: Memoirs of a Straphanger, or Dang It’s Cold Outside!

New York on Strike: Memoirs of a Straphanger, or Dang It’s Cold Outside!

Sleepless in Greenpoint

So, the commute home took over three hours, which meant that I arrived in my palatial one bedroom apartment at about 9:30PM. And I was lucky! Grand Central was a mob scene, with thousands of people staring up at the boards to see if there really were any trains on the tracks. No one was talking, which is always creepy in a city normally up to its eyeballs in non-stop talkers and phone yackers and wise crackers. They were all thinking the same thing: I have to pee and the police won’t let me downstairs to the lower level, home of Manhattan’s only decent bathrooms.

No Pee For You!

The reasons for blocking off every doorway and stairway in Grand Central were never elucidated, but I got the feeling from the four National Guardsmen and the four uniformed officers guarding the top of the stairs that they were waiting for the worst. Not since I was shuffled from an airplane in Split, Croatia and manhandled by the local Storm Troopershave have I felt such unease. I really thought that if I made a dash for the bathroom (I really did need to pee in the worst way) that someone would shoot me for it. But it wasn’t just me.
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An elderly woman who clearly could not see the boards and who needed a little humanity thrown her way approached an officer:

“Are there any trains leaving from the lower level?” she asked, bent over from the weight of her 80 some odd years.

“I don’t know, lady,” he snapped, “I’ve been up here all day.”

She mumbled something as she tried to find a friendly face, and he turned his back to her and began chatting with one of the National Guardsmen. It was one of the rudest things I have ever seen in the city.

Meanwhile, my bladder was expanding to record capacity. In desperation I approached an officer who was strolling through the middle of the main hall, and he told me that I had to go all the way to the other end of the station to find the single down escalator that allowed commuters onto the lower level.

Relief at Last

Trying not to worry too much about the elderly lady and her cane, I watched as the crowd outside Grand Central swelled, the lines (just to get in) wrapping around the block like a fat python. I was out of there, but there were plenty of folks who were looking at another two or three hours to get home.

A group of well-chilled commuters who had been waiting on line for about an hour were trying to keep their moods in check:

“I am definitely asking for battery operated socks,” one man in a Yankees cap says.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll short out?” his friend asks.

“Hey, at this point, that’s all the excitement I’m getting’ this Christmas. I’m spending all my mad money just getting’ to work.”

“Here,” his friend says. “Let me take a picture with my camera phone. It’ll be great on next year’s Christmas card.”

Meanwhile back in Brooklyn, the friendly folks in my neighborhood were picking up and dropping off anyone who was thumbing it. The local Hess station on McGuiness and Greenpoint Avenues is a sort of rendezvous point. Lots of delivery vans and trucks were driving people towards the local bridges, shaving an hour or so off the walk.

(Many Greenpoint residents come from the former communist block, so for them this is not such a shocking event. They don’t like it and don’t understand it, but it’s not horrifying. However, some of them suspect that it is a sign of things to come, of harsher days and grimmer times. Nevertheless, they remain friendly.)

Tomorrow’s Another Morning

Up at 4AM: So my work day has now increased by three or four hours - 4AM to 9PM. 17 hours – not bad. What's 17 hours spent commuting and sitting on my ass in a cushy office? I deserve to work this hard. But I can handle it. I am strong. I don’t mind at all suffering for the sake of the TWU. I am happy to see them get what they want, and to retire on a nice pension at 55. I wish I could – but of course, I will retire at 65 with minimal benefits, like the majority of working class and middle income Americans. But that is totally my problem, and I won’t press my needs on the TWU. They have enough to worry about.

In the meantime, it’s back to Hess station to catch a ride into town. Congrats to everyone with wheels who picked up the frozen masses who were thumbing it this morning; good karma will be coming your way!

Tags:   grand central, pension, sitting on my ass, transit, twu, union

December 20, 2005

Strike Notes: Diary of a Foodie Under Duress!

Strike Notes: Diary of a Foodie Under Duress

During these heady days of such important and ground-breaking union activity, the adrenaline rush has left me hungry.

Musings of a One Track Mind:
How does a Brooklyn Foodie handle her ravenous needs when there is no public transportation to ferry her across nigh river to the hallowed banquet halls of Manhattan? How can she satisfy her appetite for consumption?

These are questions I ask myself as I examine the dwindling possibility of making my 8PM dinner reservations. Oh poor me! What ever will I do? Is there end to this madness?

Praying for the Mon & Pop Crowd:
The fact is that I can find sustenance anywhere; I also am capable of preparing my own gourmet meals at home. The sad thing of course is the loss of business that so many mom & pop shops, chef-owned restaurants and their hourly staffs will suffer. In a grim retail season where business is off by an average of 23% nationwide, and when we are staring down the barrel of loss versus profit, the strike is sweating retailers of goods and services. Many hourly employees, who make on average a paltry $8.00 per hour, will end up with nothing in their stockings but moths come next week. (They don’t have business insurance to cover their losses, like big chain stores.)

Throwing away that unused food:
Restaurants newly opened and hoping to make a splash in this busy holiday season will feel the pinch right away, and, if the strike lasts through New Years, they may have to close their freshly painted doors. While I can sit and feel sorry for myself because I have missed opportunities to gorge, my heart goes
out to those chefs and owners who have just invested much personal sweat and capital in a business that will no doubt be hit hard, if not shut down altogether. I am not talking about big splashy places like Del Postin, with much money backing and publicizing the opening and the ridiculously high-priced menu; I am talking about the smaller places that have just opened around the city, hoping to be a new dot on the culinary map.

Product. Egad, what about the product?
This week, traditionally the most profitable for restaurants, is also profitable for purveyors. Tons upon ton of fish, meat and fowl have already been delivered, and without commuter business, much of it will go to waste – an ignominious end for these creatures.

How ironic that in a city where the homeless and poor barely have enough to eat, and certainly not enough of the nutritious, that tons of high-priced protein will be dumped at the end of the week.

What’s in your belly? I am lucky because I work for a company that not only has gone to great lengths to ensure that employees can get to work, we also are provided with food. We have donated food and money to those in need. As we settle into this strike and head into the grim-looking New Year, my belly is filled with a cocktail of trepidation and hope that this strike does not further eviscerate the independent operators around town, thus allowing chains and chainlets to further clog the NYC dining map. I hope that the city can support small and tasty places, and that they are not replaced by Starbucks, Subway and the like. But between the strike, the rent and the risk, it is not looking too good for the new and hopeful.

Tags:   adrenaline rush, appetite for consumption, brooklyn, foodies, ignominious end, one track mind, public transportation, strike

December 18, 2005

Holiday Party Guide for New Yorkers: How to Fit Festivities into your New York Minute

Holiday Party Guide for New
Yorkers: How to Fit Festivities into Your New York Minute

Many of us have overextended either our credit or schedule, or both. How on this ball of earth can we possibly meet all of our obligations?

If you just can’t say no…

While New Yorkers are famous for their impatience, sometimes they just can’t say “no” when they really need to.

Recently, I ran into a friend at a posh party in a Greenwich Village house.

“I have to run out; I double-booked for tonight. I have to get down to the gallery for another party,” he says as he straightens his expensive tie.

“Oh,” I say, “that’s tricky. Dinner hasn’t been served yet. I hear it’s lamb chops.”

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“Don’t worry,” he says, “I have an easy escape route.”

“What?” I ask.

“I just tell everyone I have reservations at Per Se.”

No one would want a friend to give up reservations at Per Se.

For those of us who just cannot bring ourselves to say “no” and end up double or triple booked, here are a few more tips:

1. Make sure the first party has an early start time. Many work-related parties start at about 6PM.
2. Avoid the eggnog as a first drink – you don’t want to beburping it at your friends later.
3. Pace yourself – one or two flutes of champagne are all you need to get on the holiday glow.
4. Make sure you know exactly where your coat is at all times so that you can make a quick exit.
5. Do not tell the host you have another party to attend. Tell him/her that you have reservations at Per Se or Jean-Georges. No one would want you to miss that!
6. Perform a teeth-check in the bathroom mirror before you head back out into the street. Reapply lipstick if necessary.

If you have to socialize with a Babette you don’t really like…

Overheard on the 6 Train:

A young woman wearing excessively pointed shoes and a frown of frustration leans against the pole.

“So, what are you taking to her party?” her friend with the Jeanine Garrafolo look asked.

“Oh, I’m taking a bottle of 1999 August Kesseler Rudesheimer Trockenbeerenausleser.”

“Isn’t that expensive?”

“Yes, but it’ll be worth every penny watching her try to pronounce it.”

“Hmmm. You’re probably right.”

Yes, it is fun to make Babette babble on, but she will seek revenge. Here are some tips for not letting her get the best of you:

1. Bring along a bottle of something that you know she cannot pronounce.
2. Mention that the latest fashion colors just don’t work for everyone.
3. Compliment everyone in the room about their accessories.
4. Be wearing some sort of bobble that you know she will covet, then let her know it is exclusive. She will covet it more.
5. Extricate yourself from her manicured grasp by telling her that you have reservations at Le Bernadin with that photographer friend.

If you can’t say no to yet another
glass of the bubbly…

If you have a problem controlling your alcohol intake during holiday parties (a syndrome known as FestivusExcessivus), you should take along a buddy who can deftly remove unnecessary beverages from your hand before you make a fool of yourself.

If you do not want to try the Christmas treats…

When a plate of unsavories (e.g., deviled eggs dyed green & red or crab salad from a can, fruit cake, celery with peanut butter) passes in front of you, try to wave whatever it is away with a “No thanks, really, I have dinner reservations,” or a “Does this contain gluten? I am allergic to gluten.” If none of that works or you have a hard time lying, then tell your host that you just aren’t feeling well and that you are afraid you won’t be able to keep it all down.

But by all means, no matter what you do, have a good time!

Tags:   None

December 15, 2005

New York Shopping: How to feed the beast when a transit strike is eminent

New York Shopping: How to feed the beast when a transit strike is eminent

The looming threat of a transit strike may cause some of us to lose valuable income during the holidays, force our children to miss school, and in general make a grim outlook all that grimmer.

Wait a minute!

The Babettes in town know how to take full advantage, and many of them are hoping that a transit strike will keep the riff-raff out of Bergdorf Goodman’s new eatery, BG, which inspires us to think interior decorating as we gulp down very expensive American cuisine. If you have the means, then by all means head there in case of a strike and enjoy the deliciousness of not being jostled or begged at.

Babette is not so light on the gray matter; she knows that with a transit strike, there will be more staff at Bergdorf to attend to her exquisite needs.

Where will Babette be shopping during the strike?

Babette will find that SoHo will be hers, and she will have free-run of Bloomingdales, Agnis B, Channel, Armani and Kate Spade’s place. She will also be able to breeze into MAC for a make up consultation, and if she’s feeling a little too old, she will run over to Scoop for a younger look.

Babette will also be seen at Henri Bendel’s 5^th Avenue digs, where she might drop her Samanth-esque Sex-in-the-City look for a moment and try for something a little more sophisticated, but probably not.

Note: Babette will not be shopping at Daffy’s or Philene’s Basement. Her motto is: I don’t wear seconds.

What will Babette be buying?

Babette will buy neat, tiny gifts for those in her inner circle, but she will also treat herself to a new pair of Prada boots from the SoHo store – mom gets a nice belt from Charles Jourdan. Other gifts will include small selections of chocolate from Vosges, a select key chain from Tiffany’s, and a make-over for her friend who doesn’t spend enough time on skincare.

Note: Babette wears Prada while shopping Armani – it’s gauche to shop in garments you are also browsing.

How will she get to the stores if there is a strike?

Simple: Car and Driver, her servants, not the magazine.

Tags:   bergdorf, glam, riff raff, shopping babette, transit strike

December 08, 2005

Dining New York Style: Glam it up!

Tags:   babette, glam, glitter, meatpacking, monet, soho, theatre district, tribeca, union square

December 04, 2005

Cooking your Christmas Goose (without getting your goose cooked!)

Tags:   None