Good food (and other random thoughts)

Coulda knocked me over with a feather...

2009-10-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

I am constantly amazed by the widely varied areas that are home to visitors of my blog (though so few of you say hi... )

I often get a smile out of the different Google searches that lead here too.

Tune in soon paisans and paisanas... I have a couple in the basket almost ready for you.

Johnny T

Capisce Caprese??

2009-08-04T14:42:00.001-07:00

I love the heat I have been taking out here... sun has been beating down on my San Marzanos getting them good and sweet. While I am a carnivore by nature, one of my all time favorite dishes for a hot summer night is a little fresh mozz and tomatoes. I usually leave the mozz in the freezer for about a half hour before I cut it- slicing is a lot easier and cleaner. Then I go to work on some big juicy tomatoes. Even if I'm making them for nobody but myself, I can't help but alternate the red and white in a line around the edge of the plate... to me, it is just the way it has to be... I like to get the whole plate covered and then I slice up some basil and scatter it across the top- one of the chefs I used to work for always yelled at me about that-"You're gonna brooze dem leaves up kid!!"- but I like a little basil in every bite and this is the best way I know how. Then, a little salt and fresh black pepper, a turn of the Fillipo Berio bottle around the plate and a splash of good balsamic vinegar.

This is one of the best summer dishes... satisfies the salt and sweet cravings and is nice and light for the hot weather. Plus, good for a Friday night when you're taking the non- carnivore route. The smell and taste of this always puts me in mind of summer... I know what it is too- its the basil, that sweet,smooth smell of basil always screams 'SUMMER!!!"

The smell of basil always does it for me... some people like fresh cut grass, others figure its the first crack of the bat in the Bronx... but for me, it will always be the basil. I used to walk home down 79th Street from Utrecht after I got off the M train. There was a guy who lived about half way down... he didn't have much of a yard, it was maybe five feet square. But it was just enough room for Our Lady on the halfshell and a forest of basil... I used to breathe extra deep as I walked down that block and always on his side of the street. One day I struck gold... on the way home one hot afternoon, I passed during the middle of a harvest... I expressed my appreciation for what he had done and I was duly rewarded for my honesty and developed sense of "The Good Stuff". My new friend was not pleased until I was walking down the street with my over-sized mitts each grasping as much basil as I could carry.

That night, many pignole nuts gave their lives so I could make the best batch of pesto ever... enough for two nights of dinner and still a generous amount to put in the freezer, to be used a spoonful at a time in soup, on pizza, and even striped across the top of a fritata.

Fresh cut grass is good if you're in the country and the Yanks will always be aces in my book, but if you want something you can only get in the summer, it has to be the basil... each and every time. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

It's Not Easy Bein' Green

2009-03-17T08:48:00.001-07:00

Six years ago, today, St Pat's... we all gathered at Mom's house for dinner. St Pat's wasn't a huge deal for us (not like Christmas Eve), but Mom always made sure we had out corned beef and cabbage that day, sort of an acknowledgment of the Irish blood from my father's side. Let's face it.. a meal like this is something even a big Guinea like me can enjoy a few times a year. My sister, all my brothers and I gathered around the old table we grew up at. Mom cooked up a serious feast for us... beef, cabbage, potatoes, soda bread (two kinds I think)...beer for the older ones- even Mom had some. We took our time going through the meal... savoring every bite; taking a lot of time to talk and share and just be together. This was a big deal for Mom, to have all of her kids together under one roof like we had always been- it was not something that happened all that often anymore.

This dinner was special for more than that though... this was the day before Mom was going back to the hospital... she had high hopes of something new that was gonna knock the crap outta what was eating at her insides. So while the atmosphere seemed a happy one... lots of laughs and joking around... there was an underlying concern. We all knew this was serious stuff...

The meal was great though... we all ate till we couldn't fit anymore and then we added just a little more. I was not all that happy to be leaving that night, but I had to work the next day, so off I went after a pot or two of coffee.

That turned out to be the last meal Mom cooked for me. We shared a few more meals... I knew she needed to eat to keep up her strength but that there was no way she'd be able to eat much of the hospital food, so I went home everyday and cooked a meal to bring to her. I still remember sitting there and having dinner with her one night when I made Chicken and Penne Arrabiata. I added a lot of hot peppers because the treatments were killing her tastebuds... the smile on her face at the first bite... brings tears to my eyes... "ahh- the fist thing I have been able to taste all week!!"

I brought her food for the first couple of weeks, but her appetite was waning as the medication and treatments took their toll. All my life, that was the only time we knew for sure when Mom was really not feeling well... lost her appetite.

And here we are, back to St Pat's again... I eat my corned beef, potatoes, and cabbage- a meal Mom and I shared many times, and remember that Last Supper. Time has a way of slipping by way too fast, but the memories never fade... like it was yesterday.

So load up your plate- get your fill of beef and cabbage and potatoes. Raise a glass- of Guinness, Harp, Pellegrino, or whatever- and toast the cook. Wear your best green and a big grin... we're all Irish today. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

"... And until I see you again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand..."

Miss you Mom

On a Roll

2009-03-09T21:41:00.000-07:00

So... here we are.. coupla weeks into Lent and I'm loving it... no meat on Fridays? No problem- I love to cook fish and since Ash Wednesday I have loved pulling up the old meatless recipes. In that spirit, I decided I had to bring Eggplant Rollatine to Maryann and Marie's Italian Festa . This is one of my favorites to make- it seems so complex, but years of preparing it have turned the entire process over to muscle memory and I was able to crank out this one in about an hour and a half.

(Author's Note:Looks like no dice again this year... car started acting up, couldn't get out of the driveway to get over to the party in time... next year, my friends... but here is a peek at what was sitting next to me in the passenger's seat and for all of you who haven't seen it, here and here are the dishes that made it there... way to go everyone... guess 'll see you next year!)

I start by peeling and cutting my eggplant lengthwise (one medium eggplant will usually work out to a 9x13 baking dish) Nice thin slices are good, so make sure your knife is sharp and your eggplant is nice and firm. Get as many slices out of the center as you can and you can use the smaller ones to 'build' long slices in the construction phase. Once its cut, I leave the eggplant out on the board to let it dry out a little.

While that is in the works I next get to making my basic sauce- dice a little onion and saute in olive oil till it is nice and soft- low heat, like a match or somethin'. When its all mushada turn up the heat and add your tomatoes- I like to use whole ones. I cook them for about thirty minutes and then pass them through a mill. Not only do we get the seeds out, but the onion gets ground up very nicely too.

During the first half hour of cooking the tomatoes, I open my ricotta and get it into a bowl. I add a couple big handfuls of fresh grated Pecorino Romano, about half a Tbs of oregano and white pepper and a tsp of nutmeg. Mix it well, then add some grated mozz- I usually add about half a pound- and then one egg to help bind and give it a nice texture. Mix it all up and let it sit in the fridge.

Time to go to work on the eggplant now. Set up a big frying pan with a good amount of olive oil and start heating it. Dip the slices of eggplant into a plain egg wash and fry whatever will fit in the pan until golden brown. Drain on a cloth or paper towel to get the excess oil off of it.

Once that is done, time to move back to the sauce while the eggplant cools. I always start the sauce in a shallow fry pan (from my restaurant days) and then pass it through the mill into a medium pot. So, into a new pot now with the sauce, add about two Tbs of salt to two large (two pound+ cans), a pinch of sugar to kill any excess acid, and a tablespoon of butter for flavor and texture. I let it simmer for about 15 minutes or so.

Once the sauce is ready to go, I take down the baking dish and throw in a coupla gupinas to set a nice base. Now, like any good guinea, we come to my favorite part- construction. Hold a piece of eggplant in your left hand and spoon a good shot of the ricotta in about a third of the way from one end. I usually make that the end near my thumb- don't ask me why, just got to be a habit, part of the muscle memory. So now you take that short end, and roll it over the ricotta and keep going. Now put the roll into the baking dish with the seam down and repeat till all the eggplant or all the ricotta is gone... with a little practice you can make it all come out even.

Once the pan is loaded, hit it with a little more sauce, enough to make sure it doesn't dry out and maybe a top it with a little more shredded mozz. Cover it with foil and put it into the oven, about 375, for 25 or 30 minutes... just enough to get all the liquids boiling. Once you reach that point, draw it out and let it sit out to cool just long enough to set- about 10 minutes or so. And thats it.

This dish holds a special place in my heart. I didn't grow up eating it. In fact, I never had it until I was 15 or 16 years old and started working in my first restaurant. (That is a long story, and better to be told over glasses of Fortissimo) One day I decided I was going to make this one for Mom. It was tough to replicate at home the first time, but I managed and Mom loved it. Gramma too. Over the next ten or so years, I made this for Mom any time she asked and a lot of times when she didn't ask for it. She loved it and I was so proud to have been able to introduce a new recipe to the family and to be able to make something for my mother that she loved; like a little bit of payback for all of her great cooking. I get a little emotional every time I make this dish, because of her, because of the special connection it represents to Mom.

So... next time you find yourself looking for a special meal, for a little something different, try a little Rollatine. 'Ey!! If it was good enough for Mom, it'll be more than good enough for you... 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

In a pinch... you can find yourself among Royalty

2009-02-12T22:22:00.000-08:00

Ok- quick one... let me set the stage- warm summer evening, dinner on the grill and I'm ready to pour a cocktail. So I pull down my bottle of Crown, load a little ice in the glass, and get ready to pour. Problem. No mixers... no Coke, no Ginger Ale, not even any sour mix... what to do... what to do...

It was at that moment I decided to invent a new cocktail... I had a couple of quart bottles of sweet tea I had made the night before. Like a lightning strike, I had it... Royaltea... my new cocktail of choice... and because I am such a giver, I am going to share it with you... my close personal friends...

Like any good cocktail, start with a pint glass... yeah- a pint glass... I mean if you're gonna do this might as well pour it right... besides, it's so good you won't question it after you finish the first one... load it up about half way with ice. I borrowed this glass from my favorite bar in San Diego, Papa's Hammer- great place to go for a cold beer and a great meal...

Next, cover the ice with a bit of Crown. I figure pouring in a pint glass necessitates at least a double shot... or so...

Finish it with a fast pour of Sweet Tea... poured correctly it will be a 'self-mixing' cocktail. You can add a little lemon if you like, but if you brewed your tea the right way- steeping the lemon with the leaves- you wont need to.

The sweetness of really good Sweet Tea (gotta pronounce the 'Swate tay' to get it right) works perfectly with the Crown... just the thing for a hot summer night.. or a cold winter night... or anywhere in between.

They say necessity is the mother of invention... well, thanks Mom- glad you could help me invent this one. I'm glad all my ears of training and the spirit of ingenuity my parents fostered in me during my youth have enabled me to reach this pinnacle.

In a pinch, you have to use whatever resources are at your disposal... improvise... adapt and overcome... 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

'Twas the night before Christmas...

2009-01-03T22:30:00.000-08:00

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the condo, not a Guinea was stirring, not even Uncle Armando.

Not a bad start, huh? Christmas Eve, the biggest dinner in the year of a Guinea like me, is upon us. I got started late; most years I would have my menu well in advance and my fish bought too. This year, not so much...

Talked to Gramma and my brothers about it and it seems everyone is cutting back. Not so much an economic thing; this stuff's just not getting eaten like it was... I was really a little surprised, but Gramma said she wasn't even making the Octopus Salad this year. What's the world coming to??

So in my cutback, I killed half the normal menu too... This year was easy- shrimp cocktail, octopus salad, fish cakes (with Bacala), some raw clams, and some macaroni. I am really glad I made the Octopus salad this year. Even though I can never find scungilli, which is texturally my favorite part, I have been honing my skills over the last few years and this time, I really knocked it out of the park. Everything was tender and had great flavor... lots of garlic, lemon, good olive oil. I made it 2 days ahead and let all those great flavors flow together... Brought a little sample to some of my local Guinea friends and got back some good reviews.

Centerpiece this year was Shrimp and Clams over fresh linguine. I bought a pound each of fresh regular and squid ink... made for a nice presentation. The fish cooked up nicely- shrimp were bigger than I usually use and the clams were smaller than I usually use, but I cooked them in some tomatoes I crushed in my hand and used a lot of garlic. I dished it all up and, being a crazy diavolo, hit the whole thing with a nice coating of grated Pecorino Romano. I know my Aunt Marie can't read that without getting upset- fish and cheese don't mix in her world... but I could never have a plate of macaroni without it. (recipe, if you care was 3lbs shrimp sauted in Garlic and oil, 3lbs little neck clams scrubbed and thrown in once the shrimp get their color; steam the calms open and then open 2 big cans of tomatoes and crush the tomatoes one by one over the pan, adding the juice from the can last, then a little salt and fresh basil; let it cook about 20 mins or so just for the tomatoes... that's it... put it over pasta if you want, or serve it in a bowl with a good loaf of bread)

Christmas Eve... this dinner hasn't been the same without my brothers around to eat everything in sight; next year, I'm gonna make 'em all visit and hit all seven courses. Putting out dishes like this, I don't think they'll be able to say no. And even if they try to, they'll HAFTA come... 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Home again, home again, jiggity jig...

2009-01-03T22:29:00.000-08:00

I got into town on Wednesday and within 90 minutes was putting down a couple of slices and a Manhattan Special at Francesco's (former Nino's on Henry St... across from Mazzola's)... that was about 5 o'clock. I took up a good amount of space- hadn't bothered waiting till after I dropped by my friend's place and still had my bags with me. Heaven... they make a good plain slice here- crisp bottom and a little bit of dough between that and the sauce. The Manhattan Special... perfect, just like it has been for the last 50 or so years... I had a smile on my face and it seemed like all the weight had been lifted from my shoulders... I was home... I was among family, some of "my own" and the stress of my day-to-day existence on the Left Coast just melted away.

After a quick call, I met up with some "family" two blocks away. I haven't seen them in what seems like forever and it was a great reunion. We dropped my bag at the apartment and headed right back out. As we walked and talked, I brushed my feet through crispy dead leaves... colors I never get to see in my new home. It is still strange to me to see the NY plates; I get a little excited when I see them in LA, but to see one after the other all the way down each block... it was... hmmm... comforting. We walked a little way to a place I had never been before, a place I had only read about. Lucali's, a brick oven challenger that stepped up to face the old champ, Grimaldi's. It couldn't have been any better than it was... I won't go into details here, Lucali's has earned its own post. I will say that I am very excited about my next opportunity to get there and I have a new "must visit" when people tell me they are going to NY.

Overall, a great trip (could there be a bad trip home?) The weather was typical of the season... somewhere beteween warm and cold, the sun out just enough to keep you warm when the cool breeze blew... that smell in the air- damp with almost a tangible quality to it, the scent put out by the decomposing leaves... one of the great smells of my city in the fall. I had four days to squeeze it all in again, to get those batteries to take a charge, and I was as excited as I could be. Somehow, I ate less on this trip than I normally do- don't get me wrong, I still ate more than the average tourist, just not as much as I think I should, would, or could have... just another reason to go back soon.

Central Park looks beautiful this time of year... the colors, the leaves are everywhere, the sun seems to have a different affect on everything. There were more people in the park than I expected on a weekday. I spent some time sitting on a bench in The Mall (if you don't know, google it) under a long archway of trees. The amount of satisfaction gained from just sitting and watching people walk by... I felt like I was there again. It is actually pretty amazing how you can sit among all those people and still get a sense of solitude... I didn't talk to anyone, I simply drank my coffee and had some alone time with my city and the little piece of nature that was there. Thinking back on it, I can't find anything that even begins to compare to the feeling.

I spent more time with family on this trip than I have in the past. I introduced my youngest brother to a lot of what the city has to offer; he has spent very little time here and I think it was an eye-opening couple of days. As usual, I spent the days leading up to the trip thinking about what I would have while I was home, especially the things that I can only get there. I got to most of them- bagels (GREAT everything bagels from Mazzola), buttered rolls with coffee from one of the fabled silver coffee carts downtown, dogs, pretzels, more pizza than you woulda thought possible... sushi over at Tomoe- they still make the best salmon skin roll I have ever had... and the city was just great. I know I felt better for walking around for those few days than on any sunny day here in LA.

The days seemed to pass in a hurry... A couple of days in Brooklyn and then I spent a couple of days at my brother's place... we had our usual Italian Feast of Meats- I was hard pressed to make sure I tried a little bit of everything with all the deli paper open on the table... I kept thinking there was something under the cappicola wrapping, or maybe something sitting under the mortadella that hadn't even been opened yet... The fresh mozz, as usual, was perfect- smooth and creamy with just the right amount of salt... and the bread... crispy-doughy bits of heaven covered in sesame seeds... chased with a Yeungling or two...or three... hmmmmmm... how many was that? So easy to lose count when I am with my brothers and sister... talk, eat, drink.. it becomes circular.

Lunch rolled right into dinner, and next thing I know, the youngest was frying up some chicken cutlets... I haven't had a proper chicken cutlet in... well far too long... made with the breadcrumbs I grew up with, fried in the olive oil Mom always used... the kid did good... I was sorta proud of him (could never tell him that though- make him too comfortable, he'll get lazy and stop improving)

We got out to see some family I haven't seen in way too long- since before my last trip, you know-a million years ago. I started to feel better and better about being home. Nothing like seeing extended family to keep things in perspective... being around people who had been a such a huge part of my youth almost felt like it was taking responsibility off my shoulders... I didn't have to be the oldest, the guide, the example... I felt younger than I have in a long long time.

I had thought about getting over to Philly... coupla friends over that way that need a visit... and God knows I could use a quick stop into Jim's for a cheesesteak or two... hmmmmmmmmm... but that is going to have to wait for next time... but then, you know I'll be there.

Next thing I know, it's a cold dark Sunday morning and I'm on my way back to Kennedy for an early flight. Can someone tell me where all the time went? It seems like every trip home... no wait- it isn't the trip there, it's when I have to leave- every time I leave, I think more about pulling the chain and getting off the Left coast... This trip more than any of the others, I felt it. I think it may have been the way I spent my time, doing 'regular' things, doing things I would actually be doing if NY was still my daily grind- seeing my brothers and sisters, regular 'home'-type meals, just spending the day wandering through the City...

Sometimes being away from home is tough. Sometimes going home can be tougher. I serve an important function though; I am a missionary, an emissary from NY, spreading the word about my beautiful city. It's never easy being away from the things you know... but when the pain comes, you rub a little dirt in it and play hurt... Me? I like to make a dish of macaroni, maybe some fried meatballs on the side- a little Guinea comfort food always helps; then a phone call to tell someone about it that can really appreciate it... whether they are around the corner or three thousand miles away... hey it's only a quick flight away! So salt that pot of water on the stove and let's get it started. Time for another great meal. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

These little town blues...

2008-10-13T11:34:00.000-07:00

Ok... if you have done any reading here at all, you already know what this is about... I am headed HOME!!! In just a few days, I will be taking a trip back to the land of all things delicious. I plan to eat my weight in "NY-only" food: bagels, pizza, bread, hot dogs, cheeses, meats, pastries- the likes of which will not be found on this Left Coast.

So who has seen The Godfather? Remember when he says "... but one day, and that day may never come, I will ask you for a favor..."? Well that day has come. My brain has become more than a little foggy and I am a little concerned that I may forget something. Tell me what it is that I need while in town... I need YOU. I am sure that YOU will have the one thing... the thing I can't live without on this trip… the thing I absolutely need. And I am sure that will be the one thing just out of the grasp of my memory... so remind me... any and all help is appreciated. Tell me about it… and when I get back I promise to tell you all about it. You know my rules… I’ll keep writing as long as you keep reading.

So, somebody call the NYPD, the FDNY and probably Animal Control too... I'm heading home and it is going to be some time!! My Fair City may be the City that Never Sleeps, but when I'm done... she's gonna need a little nap! 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Easy as Pie

2008-09-25T22:49:00.000-07:00

Dad was a great guy. I don't think I ever heard anyone with a bad word to say about him... even Mom (and she divorced him after 6 years... so, you'd think...). He worked in some of the roughest areas of the Bronx and never had a problem... Dad was just a nice, soft spoken Irish guy from Inwood (that's on the northern tip of Manhattan, for the geographically challenged) He liked to read, was a gifted singer, and had a killer voice with a serious vibrato that got him some work for a breif period doing voice-overs. Apparently God has a sense of fair play, because while I got stuck looking an awful lot like him (JUST KIDDIN DAD!!), my saving grace was I got his voice too... I still remember when I'd call him at work as a kid... before he knew it was me, he would drop his voice an octave and say "Hi, this is Mike Tomatoes"...

I guess to me, like most kids, my Dad was about as cool as it got. Me and my older brother got to do so many things other kids didn't get to do- we learned all the city games Dad played growing up, like box-ball, king/queen, curb-ball, and ring-a-livio. He was teaching me and my older brother to drive in the church parking lot on Saturday afternoons when we were 11 and 12 years old. We were taught every part of the City and most of the outer-boros, and the best way to navigate them either by train or in a car (including the dreaded Cross Bronx Parking Lot). We knew how to use most of the crossings on the Hudson, East, and Harlem Rivers to avoid traffic on the West Side Highway, the Deegan or the FDR. The radio in his car was always tuned to 101.1 WCBS FM, the quintessential New York station that played the music from his youth- Dad loved doo-wop and we used to listen to Cousin Brucie, Don K Reed and the Doo-Wop Shop, and Mr Music Norm N Night... all old school "real" music. Cagney was a big favorite of his too- Angel's With Dirty Faces, Each Dawn I Die, White Heat... All in all, I am hard pressed to find a bad memory... and that's great because I have come to find that it is true- we do become our parents. (my epiphany on that came when, during a lengthy commute in some heavy traffic, I found myself yelling "Awlright pal... drive it or park it!!" at the driver in front of me... a classic line from Dad)

Much later, Dad confided in me that he never stopped loving or missing Mom... and I knew it was true. He always asked how she was and stuff... One thing he was always after was old recipes, things she had cooked for him when they were on their National Tour (courtesy of the US Army). One of Mom's old recipes that I loved was for Hamburger Pie. It was great and satisfied my carnivorous side pretty well. And it was easy to make, too. One night Dad asked what I had made for dinner, so I told him and gave him a shopping list and directions on how to put it all together.

Here is where I need to pause and let you know something about Dad. He was smart man... he spoke four languages... he could effectively debate almost any point... and he made helluva pot of coffee. But he was no cook. Couldn't do it if his life depended on it. This was an easy one though- a pound of ground beef, a small onion chopped, some flour, a few tablespoons Worcestershire sauce, two eggs, a package of shredded Cheddar cheese, and a frozen pie crust. That is essentially the shopping list I gave him. Then the directions: Chop the onion and start sauteing in a pan; brown the meat in the same pan with the onion, drain it; add 2 or so rounded tablespoons of flour (to help bind it) and at least three tablespoons of the W sauce (not gonna try to spell that one again!).. more if you like a little zing to our Hamburger Pie. Mix it all up in the same pan, then pour it into the pie crust. Now beat the two eggs in a bowl and throw the cheese in, then pour the whole mix over the top of the meat, spreading it out to the edges. Bake it in the oven at about 375 for a half hour or so. When you take it out, let it cool for a little while before you cut into it otherwise it will fall apart. Thats it... easy right?

So I left these directions with my very intelligent, college educated father. Next night I get a call... whaddaya know?? The Old Man actually pulled it off... he had cooked it and it was cooling by the time he called me. It turned out just right. I got another call just a little while later; he had cut into it and was tearing through his first slice. And loving it. I couldn't help but be proud of him... this was a huge step for him. We talked for a few minutes, had a few laughs, and then I got back to whatever it was I was doing and he did the same. About an hour later I get another call. It's Dad again. "Johnny, my boy... I'm not sure how to tell you this... I ate the whole thing" he said with a little guilt to his voice. I couldn't help but laugh. I had, on more than one occasion, done exactly the same. I was sure he did it just like I did: the initial meal from the first sitting would usually account for a quarter to a third of the entire pie; as the night wore on and the pie sat on the kitchen table, I would begin to nickel and dime it to death... sliver by sliver till there was just a small piece left... "How could I leave that? What am I gonna do, tease myself with a nibble tomorrow?" I would justify it to myself as I cleaned the (pie) plate.

We had a lot of laughs, me and Dad... there were times when I would call him in the morning before I left for work- he was always up early to go to work too- if I thought of something funny... just a few minutes and the day was started with a laugh for both of us. He was a great guy, my Dad.

Nine years ago today, it was a Saturday night, Dad died. The big C snuck up on him and took him just a few days after it was found. I still remember going to see him on Friday night... and then Saturday, I brought him lunch from his best buddy's restaurant: a club sandwich, some well done fries with an ice cold Pepsi. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, or maybe because of it, we shared more than our usual amount of laughs. During a rare serious moment, I apologized for the times I had acted like a stupid kid, especially when I was old enough to know better. Dad looked me straight in the eye and told me to stop right there... I was just a young man growing up and those things were bound to happen... here he was, in the state he was in, giving me a pass, offering me absolution for transgressions that I knew then had hurt him so much... hell of a guy, my Old Man- he was all Man.

I know he's off somewhere with Mom right now having the longest picnic ever heard of. He brought the radio and she brought a basket with a little bit of all the things she ever made that he loved... and they're just catching up on old times, waiting patiently for their boys to show up.

So here's one for my Dad. If you find yourself in need of an easy recipe to follow, one that even my no-cookin' Dad could manage to throw together and enjoy, then try this one. I know you're gonna love it. And set out an extra slice... you never know who may drop in. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

2008-09-11T04:13:00.000-07:00

The Summer Wind...

2008-09-01T19:40:00.001-07:00

Nothin like a little Frankie to set the tone for the season and here we are, the generally accepted end of Summer... I played Frank and so much more over the long weekend. Like everyone else, I look forward to that bittersweet long weekend in September. Its a great time to get together with family, friends, and friends who are family (which I sometimes think are the best of the bunch, because it is like picking your relatives). I spent a good part of Saturday doing prep work and put out a killer spread on Sunday- the weekend included my usual list of suspects:ribs, chicken, burgers, dogs, sausage... it was all there. Mix n a generous helping of people who I wanted to spend time with while wishing a fond farewell to Summer and of course just the right amount of liquids... it was a great party. If you have any questions on the menu, then you need to do your homework... look into the archives- its all there... go ahead; I'll wait here for you...

I decided to take Monday for myself this year... no guests, no cookout, no entertaining. Instead, I puttered around the house a little, took care of some local errands and enjoyed some pizza... I turned out a few (because leftovers are always so good)- I used some leftover pesto for one, sauteed a little spinach for another, and loaded a third with extra mushrooms. The first pie went in early for an all day "mangia"... beer and pizza over the day... it was great.

But then I got to thinking about my family (both the chosen and 'forced on me' varieties) on the East Coast; there is a huge list of people over there that I would love to be spending time with (and you know who you are! That's right... You!!) While people like to tell you the summer is never ending out here on the Left Coast, I felt it... like Frankie said... 'I lost you to the summer wind...' and it seems he is right, things do change here (I actually start to feel it right around the Fourth of July, but do my best to work through it) Next thing you know, people are gonna be walking around talking about how cold it is at 70 degrees, asking how I can still be in shorts and a T- shirt, like there's something wrong with me. I used to try to hide it a little, try to be polite as the new comer, but now I laugh openly and tell them all to go spend a few days with my best girl (my city, of course) in mid February if they really wanna feel cold...

I miss my family and friends at home; I think it is definitely time for a visit. If I wanna keep what remains of my brains, it will have to be sooner rather than later... I can't wait- it's always nice to pop up unexpectedly, when people least expect it and give them a good surprise. So don't any of you be surprised if you see a familiar face or hear an unexpected "Ay- how you doin'?"... you never know where or when I could pop up. Just be ready, because you know if I'm comin to visit, we're gonna have ourselves a real time. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Holy Stromboli!!

2008-08-15T06:52:00.000-07:00

I made a little pizza... alright, alot of pizza... earlier this week and somehow wound up with one piece of dough left over. I've been feeling a little more on the carnivorous side lately, so I was looking for something to fit the mood. What could be better than Stromboli?? I mean, look at it- you have some dough wrapped around meat, cheese, some more meat, maybe some peppers and onions, or even mushrooms, and did I mention the meat? Given my limited choices for supplies out here, I decided to make use of everything I could get my hands on. (I have actually been thinking about making one of these following a recent 'discovery' in the fridge at work- someone brought one in and for some reason thought it would be safe when left alone all day... it was GREAT... that stromboli and its owner have been rooted in my mind for quite a while now)

Ok- first I assembled my ingredients- four meats, three cheeses, two peppers, and one dough. I popped the peppers in the broiler to roast for a while; I wanted a little something sweet to offset all the cured meats. While they roasted, I grated some Pecorino Romano (personal favorite), grabbed some mozzarella left from the pizza the night before, and got the rest of the ingredients out.

I began working to dough out on the board, doing my best to acheive an even depth and somewhat even dimensions on the sides. Once the dough was out, I started with a layer of Romano. I was hoping that the dry (relative to everything else) consistency of the cheese would allow it to soak up what I knew could turn into a flood of oil.

Next, I layed down a layer of mozz that had already been shredded for the pizza... a nice layer of it to help with the foundation. I figured this could only help to serve as a good base with the Romano. Next came my favorite part... the meat. I wasn't sure which to start with, whether the order would have big affect on how the flavors hit you. I realized I was over-thinking this and fished the salami off the top of the pile. I broke open the package and, after making sure it wasn't poisoned, added that as the next layer in what was beginning to be a large pile of food.

My sense of fairness (spurred by a healthy dose of OCD) dictated that following the salami there should be another layer of cheese. I almost felt as if my brick laying ancestors were standing over my shoulder, urging me to put a little mortar in there between the layers to help hold it all together. Looking at this photo, you may notice what seems to be only half a piece of slicing provolone in my hand... There is actually a funny story that goes with that. See, I as I stood there carefully adding the provolone to this artistic masterpiece, a piece fell to the counter, where the other half (not pictured) broke off, bounced up off the counter, hit the fluorescent bulbs, fell back, paused in mid-air, changed direction and flew directly into my mouth as I stood there agape and astonished... and that is exactly how it happened!! It was all I could do to avoid choking on it...

Moving on... I continued to add my layers- some capicola, more mozz, and some pepperoni... I wanted to add more to it, but, as I mentioned, my supplies are limited... heathens don't even have a decent ham around here (someone in NY wanna send me a nice pound of thin sliced Boar's Head?). So I threw down one more layer of salami, topped it with one more layer of provolone to provide a solid casing all around within the dough, and there she was... ready to go

Carefully, I folded the top over the meat and cheese and meat delight I had created. I tucked the edges together, methodically kneading the ends of dough together, until they melded into a single piece. Quick... someone tell me what I forgot!!?!? OK- all of you who were paying attention know its the roasted peppers. I couldn't believe it... I really wanted to get those in there to offset the salt from the meat, but once the dough was sealed, there was no opening it. So I did the next best thing... I laid them on top...

I cut the dough (the way a good corner man can cut a fighter's eye) to allow any excessive liquids or air to bleed out in the cooking process, brushed it with some egg, and got it into the oven.

What came out later, besides an unbelievably great aroma of meat cooking, was nothing short
of encapsulated golden perfection- at least as far as I was concerned... but I was hungry, so that may have slanted my perspective a little bit. Tell the truth though... it does look good, doesn't it? And those peppers... niiiice, hmmm?

I had some left over tomato sauce from the weekend and it seemed like a natural pair... Bogey and Bacall, if you will. So I set it out and cut into the 'boli. The hot 'boli with the cold sauce... what a combo.. it was fantastic.

Now the beauty of the stromboli is that, when wrapped and refrigerated, it can last a few days. In theory. I had visions of showing up with mine at work for breakfast (any mo-mo could have it for lunch), watching my co workers turn green with envy. It would have been perfect. But, alas, it was not to be. That 'boli stood about as much chance of staying safe as a fat-cheeked little boy in a room of Grandmothers... it was gonna get pinched. I say with more than a little pride, I finished that beautiful work of carnivorous art in one day. It was fantastic and I have no regrets. Between the meats, the sauce, and those peppers... Mamma Mia... what a day I had!!

So... if you find yourself with a little extra dough and you want to throw together something that will really keep you going all week (remember- 'In Theory'), get all the makings and put together a nice artistic 'boli for yourself. This one is worth all the time and effort involved. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

A Meal Fit for a King

2008-06-19T22:59:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, there was nothing like walking up the block and seeing my Grandfather's car in the driveway. Gramps is the King of all grandfathers (just ask any of his 10 grandkids!!), and with him at the house, we had a really good chance of getting Genovese for dinner. It is still Rennie's favorite dish and Mom always loved to make it for him. Quick sniff when you walked in the door would confirm it, cause Mom always cooked this one long and slow during the day and the smell... well it was really somthin' else. It always hit you like a freight train when you walked in the door, especially on a fall or winter day. On days when I'm missing home or thinking of Mom, nothin really hits the spot like a big dish of Genovese. This is a great dish that gets even better when you take your time cooking it. I usually like to give myself at least 3-4 hours. I keep it going over a tiny flame (about the size of a match will do) and walk out of the house and then back in every now and then, just to judge the scent.

I like to start with a nice roast- a bottom round or a chuck roast with plenty of good marbling. In a heavy bottomed pot, I braise the meat in some olive oil. While it starts searing on the first side, I start peeling and cutting my onions, usually a half a dozen, maybe a little more if they are small. (To this day, in his 80's, Rennie still cuts the onions for this dish every time Gramma makes it)

Once the meat has been turned for the last time, the onions go in and get a little time to sweat it out. I hit it with some salt and fresh ground pepper and a secret ingredient that I will probably get into trouble for sharing (sorry Gramma, but they're practically family!!)- a couple of quick turns around the pot with a pour of soy sauce. Last thing to do is fill the pot with water till the meat is almost covered. After that, turn down the heat till it is just enough to maintain a little steam coming off the surface. Since the gravy that comes from this is like liquid gold, I like to vent the cover off the side, but still leave it mostly covered, keeping as much as possible for dinner.

And now, we move to our breif intermission. This is about the time I like to pop open a bottle of Fortissimo and maybe turn on a good classic movie- something with Frank and the boys... Robin and the Seven Hoods or Ocean's Eleven- or maybe some Cagney- Angels with Dirty Faces or Each Dawn I Die...

As we get closer to "go time", I get my big pot of water going- at least two pounds of spaghetti or linguini for this one- if there are any leftovers, they are worth fighting over. I'm like Joe over at italyville.com... I like some good macaroni. If I don't make it, or get it fresh, I like my DeCecco- great texture, perfect body... boiled up a little al dente in some nice salty water-mmmmm- just thinking about it, I can taste it and feel the strands coming off that first big fork. (I still remember fighting with my older brother in that Bronx appartment about who got to be Gramma's 'taster' when it was almost done... sweeet memories.)

While the mac's are cookin' away, I throw together a basic salad- romaine, cucumber, and tomato, as long as the season is right; dress it wih a little olive oil and red wine vinegar, maybe a cap or two of the balsamic, and toss it into the fridge for the time being.

Get the cheese out of the fridge at the same time. I know everyone is high on Parmigianno, but not me- I can't do it; feels too much like betting the favorite. For me, it has always been Pecorino Romano with dinner. Big chunks of it, with a small hand grater on the table. Now, slice that bread, get it in a basket (if it's yesterday's, give it a few minutes in a hot oven to hide it) and get it on the table. I'm gettin hungry here!!!

Ok- so, now with your macaroni cooked, drained, and appropriately dressed in gravy (like a kid after Sunday dinner!!), let's get this thing going. Get the meat out of the gravy and give it some time to rest on that big wooden cutting board. Get the macaroni in a big bowl with plenty of gravy and tell everyone to sit down so you can start dishing it up. We always start with a couple of dishes of macaroni (do any of "us" eat our secondi piatti with our primi piatti?? I hope not!!). I can still hear my brother "Gramma, can I have some more?"... "OK Michael, give me your dish, but keep your fork"- more of those sweeet memories.

Next, bring out the salad and get your meat sliced and onto a platter, with a good amount of gravy and onions over it. Time for round two. I love to get my fork in there and grab an end cut- and don't you try to fight me for it! Some fresh gravy and a good sprinkle of cheese and we're off to the races... Don't forget to hold onto some bread for the gravy in your dish. Better yet- get a spoon!

I like to eat my salad last, a little vinegar to help cleanse the palate and aid in the digestion. And I like it in the same dish. I love getting all those flavors together... you get the dressed salad, the gravy, the cheese left in your dish... mmmmm- I can 't get enough.

A little caveat on this dish- most of the time, you either get a great, flavorful gravy, or a very tender piece of meat. It is a rarity to get both, even my Gramma who has been cookin' this dish up for the last 60+ years would tell you that. But sometimes, just on a blue moon... you could get both. The evidence you are looking at here was just such a time and I am glad you could be here to share it with me- but don't think you're entitled to leftovers!!

OK- not sure I could feel any more hungry than I do right now... occupational hazard of writing about all of this. Sadly, this post was finished long afer the leftovers were gone so we're all in the same boat as far as being able to enjoy more than a few good pictures.

One disclaimer- the meat you saw on that dish of macaroni?... just there for purposes of the photo op... that was put back on the board and eaten later, in its proper order.

And there you have it- a meal truly fit for a King... This one (like so many others) is worth all the time that goes into it. Get the people that matter the most to you together for a sit down and enjoy- even if it doesn't come out so good, it will still be great. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!

Grampa and Gramma

In Progress

2008-05-21T15:38:00.000-07:00

I think I have almost forgotten how to write...

I have one in the works, and it will be ready VERY soon... don't give up on me, amici...

Johnny T

Be it ever so humble...

2008-01-31T12:36:00.000-08:00

Ok- another late posting... this one is from early December. Business has been good though; it's always tough to get these posted because down time at work is my best time for writing. Anyway- read on; it is worth all your waiting.

I just got back from a whirlwind tour of Home. Even in the cold, my City is as unbelieveable as ever. And she welcomed me with wide open arms...

Inside the first hour of my arrival I was sitting down with a slice, a real honest-to-goodness slice (ok, I guess 'a slice' isn't completely accurate) and, of course, my favorite chaser: a Manhattan Special. Ahhhhhh- it feels good to be home. Everyone I saw was walking around shivering, but I couldn't have been happier. After I dropped my bags off at a friend's house in Brooklyn, I went right back to the train . Two transfers later- and what beeee-you-tee-ful, perfectly timed transfers they were- I was walking around, just taking in everything there was to see and hear and, most of all, feel on a December night in my fair city. It was exactly how I spent much of my trip. Everywhere I went- Union Square, Wall Street, Rockefeller Plaza, Times Square, Hells Kitchen- I could feel the electricity, the raw energy just flowing through me. If you've never walked around my City at night by yourself, just looking at everyone and everything, you may not get this. For me though, it was like White Heat- "Made it Ma! Top of the world!"

I had only a few food highlights while in town. I didn't get back to many of the old haunts; instead I nibbled everywhere I went. Since street food is tough to come by in southern Cal, I took advantage of everything I could-coffee and buttered rolls, pretzels, dogs, knish, ka-bobs- everything was fair game. Outside of all that, I think I ate my weight in pizza, bagels, and bread that weekend, more than I have had in a month in California.

Saturday morning, I stopped in to see the Keeper of the Wisdom (see "Time to Get My Guinea Up") and after spending a little time catching up, I went to my brother's place where we had a great spread covering just about all of his table- and for those of you 'in the know' use your imagination- if you can think of it, then it was on that table somewhere. Fresh roasted peppers, fresh mozz, provolone, prosciuto, cappicola, mortadella, soppresata... the list goes on and on. To me, though, the best part was the bread (all three kinds). I haven't had good bread since my last trip. But this wasn't good bread... this was great bread! Crisp crust, soft interiors, GREAT, GREAT flavor.

What else could I ask for?? Here I was having the quintessential Italian experience. Of course, so much of what it is we do is centered around a good meal... but that is always a great place to start- after all, good food=love, doesn't it? In so many ways, it was about the food, but more important was the company. I was with all of my brothers, my aunt came by with my cousins, and even my baby sister made an appearance (she is a tough one!!). We talked, laughed, shouted, ATE... if that isn't what being a good Guinea is all about, if that isn't the real Italian experience, then don't bother trying to tell me what is- I don't want it. There aren't many ways the day could have been any better than it was.

Even though we had spent the whole day eating, I was able to convince my younger brothers to drive me back to Brooklyn and join me for another meal. I had to get back to Schnack... I had to have more of those fries, that delicious, perfectly messy burger, and most of all, a Beer Milkshake. I skipped it last time I was in town and had regrets ever since. Let me tell you- even on a full stomach, Schnack was perfect... and I do mean perfect. I hooked up with a bunch of friends I hadn't seen in a while and about 15 of us stopped in to see Harry and the crew at Schnack. They accomodated our loud, raucous bunch with a nice long table and another great round of food. After my burger, fries, onion rings, and a couple of the RC Ribs I took from my brother's plate (older brother prerogative), I was ready to try my first Beer Milkshake. Everyone else was a little hesitant. Tell you what though, after one sip I knew I could file this one under the heading "Glad you don't like it- more for me". It was great. The taste was deep and rich. The sweet ice cream was the perfect foil to the beer... I immediately kicked myself for waiting so long.

We spent a good amount of time at Schnack doing more of what I had done all day... eat, drink, laugh, and share. What a great, great time.Schnack was a perfect final meal before I had to get on that plane. (Well, almost final- I'm sure you will be shocked to know that I managed to sneak in a little more Sunday morning on the way to the airport; I put down 2 everything bagels with lox and cream cheese and a loaf of lard bread from Mazzola with a big cup of coffee on the drive over)

I came back to Southern California with my batteries fully recharged after just 72 hours at home- happy head, happy heart, and happy stomach. Its like that nice little girl from Kansas once said, 'There ain't no place like home'... well- it was somethin' like that.

Home is not a house... home is a lot deeper than that (and some of us have more than one). If you want to be happy, then go "home"- wherever and whatever that means to YOU- and spend some time there doing the things that are important and with the people that are important. It's the only way. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Go Fig-ure!

2007-08-22T12:54:00.000-07:00

Ok- so my administrative skills could use some work... gonna need to hire someone to keep an eye on things around here. Coulda sworn I had posted this one months ago. (I know it says August 22, but I didn't really get this one up till early January) Anyway- better late than never.

I stopped at the farmers market on Sunday and made a great find. One of the vendors had Figs. Brought me back to the tree in my backyard in Brooklyn, a white fig tree that stood up surprisingly well against some harsh winters and put out some of the sweetest figs I've ever eaten.

So I bought a tray of these, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst... it was a mixed tray of Italian strawberry figs and black figs. After picking up a few more things, I headed home and made one quick stop at a deli on the way. Even if the figs were good, a little prosciutto would make them great. And then, if the figs weren't so good, I would at least have a little prosciutto to eat... either way, it would be a win for me.

I got home, poured a little something to go with them and dove in. I was shocked- here it was August, about a month ahead of what was usually the start of good figs from my old tree, and I was tearing through some of the best figs I had ever eaten. They were big and soft and perfectly ripe- inside was sweet as honey. They were promptly paired off with some of that thinly sliced prosciutto and devoured with little regard for fingers.

I tell ya- it was definitely the highlight of the day... maybe the week. The pair off was a little bit of perfection. A little salt, a little sweet... what else is there? A great flavor for late August. They were so good, I didn't save any for the grill... guess I'll have to get some more next week.

There is nothing like a nice mange after spending some time at the farmer's market. If the season is right and you're looking for a quick bite that will keep your mouth happy all day, you have to go with the figs and prosciutto. There really isn't a better way this time of year. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!

Time to get my Guinea up...

2007-07-26T07:31:00.000-07:00

Here's a little something that SAB, keeper of the wisdom, sent my way... and just so you know, the qualifier at the beginning could have been much shorter; it would have covered everybody if it just said "all those who are Italian and all those who wish they were"... 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

" CA PEES H "

Capeeshe Italiano........ I'm sending this out to every person I know who is Italian, could be Italian, married an Italian, lived with Italians or wants to be Italian......!!!!!

Let's start at the beginning. Come stai? Molto bene. Bon giorno. Ciao. Arrivederci. Every Italian from Italy knows these words and every Italian-American should. But what about the goomba speech pattern? Those words and phrases that are a little Italian, a little American, and a little slang . Words every Paesano and Baccia galoop we have heard, - words we hear throughout our Little Italy neighborhood of New York This form of language, the "Goomba-Italiano " has been used for generations. It's not gangster slang terms like "whack" or "vig", if that's what you are thinking---nope, this is real Guido talk!

The goomba says ciao when he arrives or leaves. He says Mama Mia anytime emotion is needed in any given situation. Mannaggia, meengya, oofah, and of course, va fongool can also be used. Capeesh? He uses a moppeen to wipe his hands in the cuchina, gets agita from the gravy and will shkeevats meatballs unless they are homemade from the famiglia. Always foonah your bread in the pot of gravy (sauce) or you will be considered a real googootz or a Mezzo-finookio.

There are usually plenty of mamalukes and the girl from the neighborhood with the reputation is a facia-bruta, puttana or a schifosa. If you are called cattivo, cabbadost, sfatcheem, stupido, or strunz, you are usually a pain in the ass.

A crazy diavlo can give you the malokya (evil eye), but that red horn (contra malokya) will protect you if you use it right. Don't forget to always say per favore and grazia and prego . If you are feeling mooshadda or stounad or mezzo-morto, always head to Nonna's and she will fix you up with a little homemade manicott', cavadell', or calamar ', or some ricotta cheesecake. Mangia some zeppoles, canolis, torrone, struffoli, shfoolyadell', pignoli cookies, or a little nutella on pannetone. Delizioso! I think I will fix myself a sangweech of cabacol' with some proshoot and mozarell' or maybe just a hot slice of peetza .

So salud' if you have any Italian blood in you and you understood anything written here! Then, you are numero uno and a professore of the goombas If you don't get any of this, then fa Nabola with the whole thing and you are a disgraziato. Scuzi, Mia dispiachay, I didn't mean that....... Just....... Fugheddaboudit

Summertime... and the livin' is easy...

2007-07-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry for this not so brief hiatus. Summer hit and the barbecues have started. And of course so has the senseless slaughter of the little grey cells in the noggin. After all, you do need somthin' to wash down all the dogs, burgers, chicken, and ribs... and then its lunch time. I do love a good early turn at the grill. Everyone thinks I'm outta my mind eating like that at 8 in the morning, but the clock in my stomach is still set three hours ahead of the locals, so it all falls in line. And besides that, what do they know? They still think beer before noon is sacrilege. Hey- it's five o'clock somwhere!

I sat down thinking this was going to be a quick post, but since I'm here already, might as well give you a glimpse at the Big Guy's summer diet. Generally, the burger-and-dog thing (either or both, depending on the previous night) is a great starter for the day- nice and fast, chase it with a pint out of the tap and the day is rolling in the right direction. After the foundation is down, you can start to think about the more involved meals for later in the day.

After breakfast, I like to get things prepped for the rest of the day. I always figure that doing more work early on gives me more time to relax in the pool with a pitcher or two (or three) of Margarita’s. And I do make a killer Margarita- who knows, I may even share the recipe later. Ok- so first I start with three racks of baby back ribs. (3 racks? of course 3... the Big Guy never likes to eat alone) I like to trim them a little, and put a nice starter cut alongside the bone to save me from having to find it later. I have a great dry rub- little of this and a little of that (come on- you didn't think I was gonna give away that one, did ya??) and I like to put a good coating on the ribs, massage it in and let it sit on for a few hours before I cook them.

While the ribs are gettin' all happy with their little flavor party, I move on to the ladies. Depending on the crowd, I figure two is enough to entertain everyone. I like to grab 'em by the legs and lay 'em on their backs and go right to work... stripping the legs, the thighs, the breasts... hey wait- I'm talkin' about chickens here... where was your head at??!!?! ...So anyways, like I was sayin', once I have them out into all their pieces (usually 10 pieces- cutting the breasts in half, but more about why later), they go into a covered bowl and can sit in the fridge until about an hour before I'm ready to eat.

Ok- now it's time to get the ribs cookin'. I get a nice fire going with the charcoal in the chimney. Then I set a couple of handfuls of wood chips in a big bowl of water. I like to use a combination of chips for my ribs; usually apple and maple, or cherry and pear. Once the coals are good and hot, I set them up for a little indirect heat in piles on either side of my trusty Weber kettle and top the coals with the soaked chips. The ribs go on the rack at 11 am and the cover stays on for about 3 hours with just the slightest venting on the top and bottom. My great grandfather, Paulie, always said things need to be cooked low and slow- it'll be worth the wait. And he was definitely right about that... by the time you take these out of the smoke, that meat won't be falling off the bone, it'll be jumpin' off!

Now that we have set the wheels in motion for the mid-afternoon mange and have the main prep work finished for dinner, time to take care of lunch. I like a nice sangwich for lunch in the summer. And I can't think of a better way to go than with sausage and peppers. I have this guy... he makes a great parsley and cheese sausage, nice and thin, perfect for the grill. But before I get that going, I need to slice some onions, peppers, and a couple of potatoes. Throw it all into a big pan with some olive oil, some salt and pepper and start coking 'em. And don't forget what Paulie says- low and slow. You don't want to take a chance on crisping these; a long slow cook will draw the sugars out, the perfect counterpart to the sausage. Once these are started, it's time to get the sausage on the grill.

Gotta keep this low and slow too, so it doesn't burst and bleed off all the good juices. After the peppers, onions, and potatoes are softened up, it's time to start making the sanguinies... open up a good roll (and by roll, I mean roll.. not bun- that would be a hanging offense), lay in some sausage and add a nice scoop out of the pan right on top. And don’t skimp- the peppers may get second billing here, but it wouldn't be the same without a nice pile on top. I'll tell ya what- you'll know you did it right if your hands are a mess when you're eating it. Don't bother cleaning it up till after you're definitely done. And by the way- that mess is delicious; I never waste a napkin.

And so we find ourselves at the first intermission, a little lull in the action. Seems a highly appropriate time to mix the first pitcher of Margarita’s. And now, if you promise to just keep it between us, I'll tell you how to make a great Margarita. The key to a great Margarita is simple: quality ingredients. A great tequila is essential. As a minimum for quality you need to start with something like Sauza Hornitos or if you must go with a Cuervo product, try the Tradicional. Second, get yourself a bottle of Cointreau. And then we come to the sour-mix, easy enough to make on your own. So... here we go- 5 parts sour mix, 1 part Cointreau, 2 parts Tequila (using a 2 cup standard, it's 1.25 C, 0.25 C, and 0.5 C respectively)...a squeeze of blood orange right on top... put it into a shaker tin, shake vigorously and strain into an ice filled glass, with or without salt. Drain. Repeat. (Follow these last two steps as often as necessary)

Now that we're all feelin' so niiice... time to get the ribs off the smoke. Depending on how tenacious I am feeling, I may glaze the racks with some fresh made barbecue sauce and let it bake on in the grill, but only for a few minutes. When you sit down to go to work on these, its going to be a mess, too, like the sangwiches. And in much the same way, don't bother with the napkins till after you're done. Even then, why waste all that goodness?

At this point, it's time for pitcher number 2 (at least) and a little dip in the pool to cool down. I like to spend a little time floating around, digest a little, and let myself wind down. It's mid-afternoon and just one more meal left on the day. After the way the day has already gone, good thing it's only a light meal of chicken and some corn on the cob.

I like to wait till the sun starts getting low in the sky before I get my chicken on the grill. I take it out of the fridge and set it out on a big baking sheet with the pieces all linked up like a big game of Tetris. I prep them the way Mom taught me so many years ago with a good coating of coarse Kosher salt. I let them sit for about 10 minutes or so and use the time to put a few inches of water in a big pot and set it to boil. As a general rule, I don't boil my corn. I like it steamed; it seems to retain a little more body in the kernels and not shrivel up after coming out of the boil. Once I get a boil going, I throw the corn in and cover it for 9 minutes... not 8, not 10; 9.

After one last rinse for the chicken and a quick pat dry with a towel, it's onto a nice hot grill they go. Chicken is ruined by so many rookies... either burned over a flame that is way too hot or dried out and over cooked out of fear of a visit from that lovely couple, Sam and Ella. That's bush league stuff. It's easy to avoid this. First, make sure the pieces are as uniform in size as possible. As I mentioned previously, this is why we whack the breasts in half. Second, be sure to cook over a medium high flame and keep the pieces moving every few minutes. I always find that the more I turn my chicken, the more likely I am to get great chicken.

Wings and backs will, of course, always be done first. These fall under the "Chef's Prerogative" rule. These are open for consumption by the chef and anyone he chooses to share the booty with. These pieces need not ever make it to the main platter. (It's a rule. No; really... it is!!) After the last turn that sets them skin side up, it's time to hit them with the sauce. Dab a good coating on with a quality brush, close the top and let it bake on. Once the glaze is baked on nicely, I set the chicken out on large platters and watch it disappear. Always great to watch the bowls fill with bare bones and gnawed cobs.

After the sun is down, it's time to move from Margarita’s to the good stuff, straight up. Shots of tequila and whiskey get poured. But this is the sippin' kind... not built for slamming back, take your time and enjoy it. I always say have a few; after a day of eating like this, a hangover is going to be easy compared to how the rest of your body feels.

And if you have the right group, all the fun is just starting... but that's probably better left for another post.

So there you have it; a blueprint for any given Summer day. If it's a barbecue you want, you have to start early and keep it going strong all day. There is no other way to do it. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Wanted: A Sack of Schnack

2007-04-25T12:40:00.000-07:00

OK… so here I sit, feeling a bit of euphoria after a quick visit home… I made it there in time for one of winter’s last stabs at asserting control the day before St Pat’s- always a big day in the City. And while I was there, I did my best to hit all the necessary spots and make sure my old standards are keeping up with their, well… old standards. In the midst of all my reminiscing, though, I was introduced to a new venue that will undoubtedly be a lock for my next trip.

Tucked away on a side street in Brooklyn (Carrol Gardens, but right on the border of Red Hook- as a matter of fact, they bill their location as the “Gateway to Red Hook”) is a little place called Schnack. Consistently voted best burgers in Brooklyn, even though they are so much more. I walked in the door and was smacked in the face with a smell that just set my stomach to grumble mode… it was great, just what i needded after a long day of walking around the old stomping grounds. The specials board advertised RC Cola Ribs and Beer Milkshakes… I knew I was in the right place.

I sat in the corner with a few friends. We were quickly greeted and within a short time, we were fighting over the baskets of onion rings and sweet potato fries (a seasonal treat and, sorry-the season just ended!). Everything on the menu seemed to scream about comfort, but I was in the mood for a burger, so burger it was gonna be!! It was, in fact, a Super Combo and a pint of Schwag, one of the three house beers.

The burger came out just as the natives (aka my friends) were getting restless… and what a sight we were given- not sure how the table supported the weight of all this food! The burger was great- stacked high and loaded with all kinds of flavor, completely living up to the beautiful smells that greeted us at the door. What a great texture, too… the meat crumbled and blended with all the other great flavors. The levels of taste just got more and more complex. I wiped my hands after the first bite, but I knew it was pointless and after that, I dealt with the mess till I was done.

The meal was, in a word, perfect. On a cold night with day-old snow on the ground, what could make you feel more warm and toasty (and ready for hibernation) than a nice heavy meal? I ate like a of guy headed to The Chair, with little regard for how I would feel the next day. And, unfortunately, without giving thought to the finer offerings on the menu, namely, the Beer Milk Shakes. So now I sit here, 2500 miles away, kicking myself and wondering what I was thinking, just where my head was at… no Beer Milk Shakes, jamming that burger down and not taking up the offer to try some of the RC Cola Ribs, limiting myself by ordering the quad… what a mess. All the more reason to go back though. Schnack has hammered out a space in my heart and I know its going to be there for a long time.

Dr Seuss, a personal favorite of mine, once wrote: “I have cracks in my shack/I have smoke in my stack/and I think there’s a Schnack/ in the sack on my back…” Well- I’ll tell you what- if the good Doctor was lucky enough to have a sack full of Schnack, then there wasn’t much else for him to be worried about. Especially if he could get a Beer Milk Shake to go!!

I have eaten many a burger in many a place, but nothing could possibly stack up against this Quad… it represented everything a great burger should be. And if a great burger is what you’re after, there’s no need to leave town- just make a quick trip to the outer boros. Everyone needs to satisfy a burger fix now and again; when the need hits you, do yourself a favor and head over to Schnack. ‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Schnack
122 Union St

2007-04-07T20:33:00.000-07:00

4 Years and a day... Miss you Mom... we all do...

East vs West: Cold War in the Carolinas

2007-03-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

Time to switch gears for a minute. I’m sure you realize how the Big Guy feels about Food and about New York and about Food in New York; Best of the Best, right?. But there are times where you have to travel a little bit to get a particular taste. Like Barbeque. Trust me, I’ve looked all over this city, tried a lot of places and nobody anywhere on MY island makes exactly what I am looking for.

I even spent some time looking and asking around in LA. A lot of people pointed me towards Zeke’s. It was good but not quite what I was looking for. So now, after one more incident of disappointment, I think that the only way to satisfy my search for this flavor is by telling the whole story. Maybe someone out there can help me find what I’m after.

To get to the heart of this, we need to head South, down to North Carolina. Particularly, to Charlotte. I’ve spent some time south of the Mason-Dixon line in my life and have developed a healthy appreciation for real Barbeque. And when I want a good plate of barbeque, nothing else will do. Not any old meat is going to do it either- it has to be pork… Pulled pork, slow cooked in a smoker, and by slow I mean about eight hours. (Now that’s slow...)

My emotional attachment to this tender dish began in a place called Roger’s Barbeque. But, before I get into the particulars of my love for this Southern delicacy (specifically the Eastern North Carolina version), I’m going to pass on a little knowledge, just as it was passed on to me by “Roger” himself. His name is actually Dick, known to just a few as “Smoke”. He is a Charlotte native; being a Yankee, with limited knowledge of things such as this, I took him at his word. This has become Gospel etched in my food-loving soul and nearly all of my ideas of what make good barbeque stem from his wisdom. Any arguments you have with the case I make, you can take up with him… but I wouldn’t. (See 'Third' below)

First, Barbecue in North Carolina means different things to different people; mostly it depends on what part of the state you are doing your eating. It starts with the part of the pig used. In the west, pork shoulders are generally the choice piece of meat. In the east, you’ll usually find the whole pig dressed and resting over the fire for a good six to eight hours. The sauce can cause a little controversy, too. The whole state agrees on one part of it: a vinegar-based, heavily seasoned sauce. The distinction here is that in the west, there is one more ingredient than you’ll find in the east: a small amount of tomato base added to the sauce. (I have found that most places offering barbeque outside of North Carolina only make the western version. And to tell you the truth, it is usually a lot wetter than I ever found it to be in North Carolina. Now, add one more idea to the mix… I cut my teeth on Eastern barbeque, so it is naturally what I am after… making my search a little tougher)

Second, Barbecue is never to be eaten alone. And it didn’t take any experience to figure this out. No, all of my instincts told me from the first time I saw it looking so delicious, calling me over, that it was part of a bigger, better picture. Too many things will fit on that plate with it. Everyone I have ever talked to about barbeque confirmed that but we’ll get into more about what the Big Guy likes with his barbeque later.

Third, and very important: never argue one man’s idea of barbeque versus another… I’ve almost seen it come to blows over that. At first I wondered why; they seemed so similar. The major difference I noticed was the slight variation of the sauce; how could there be such a huge issue over that? But the more I thought about it, the more I began to understand… I know how I would feel if someone told me that the meatballs my mother made for me all my life were being made the wrong way; no doubt in my mind there would be some blood shed over that one.

OK- and now, after our minor introduction to this delicacy, I can start to tell you about Roger’s Barbeque a place just outside the Charlotte city limits. Roger's wasn’t only about the food, it was a full Southern experience. The walls at Roger's were covered. There were small signs offering bits of wisdom (Like 'Never try to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and annoys the pig' and 'Never trust a man that doesn't drink'), a rack of 'personal' mugs for the rail-birds (daily regulars that sat and 'crowed' at the counter), and just about anything you could think of relating back to a pig. Needless to say, walking through the door, you had a good idea this place was not for vegetarians. The menu at Roger’s, top to bottom, inside and out, was just filled with food to make you feel comfortable. Biscuits and gravy with grits for breakfast, a nice bowl of Brunswick stew for lunch, and for dinner… well, that is where the story really gets me going. (While it is true that I could have eaten the que for lunch, after my taste developed, I always liked saving it for my biggest meal of the day…) As a side note, Roger’s is sadly no more and all I have left is the memory of food that I may never see again.

Barbeque, as a meal, is multifaceted. It is not simply a plate of pulled pork. Just as important is what you surround it with. Personally, I like to have half a dozen hushpuppies, some collared greens, and a nice dish of coleslaw always seemed to sorta cool things down (even though it had a nice spicy mustard base instead of a mayo base) . I still remember the first time I tried barbeque. I had no idea it would cause the obsessive search I am taking part in now. After one meal, I was hooked. The savory vinegar and spice infused meat with the smoky undertones… all the great dishes that accompanied it (and outside North Carolina, it is nowhere to be found)…just one more thing we need to cover: Beverage.

I am a great believer of the “when in Rome...” theory of eating. Certain flavors are meant to be together, something the locals have spent a lifetime pairing off. When you are eating barbeque, what could possibly better compliment this treat than a big glass of sweet tea? Like barbeque, there is something inherently Southern about sweet tea. Actually, finding it is as tough as finding good barbeque up North. But down South, it is a staple. And I’ll tell you- nobody, I mean NOBODY makes sweet tea like a Southern girl does. I think it has something to do with just the right mix being handed down, generations tweaking the recipe till it was just right. If the barbeque is seasoned like it is supposed to be (and because sweet tea made the right way is just so good), one glass just won’t do. When all those spices kick in, you’ll need another one; more is always better with sweet tea and barbeque, but only if both come from the right side of the Mason Dixon line… (Oh I wish I was in Dixie….)

If you just can’t wrap your head around what I am trying to tell you… if the idea that the Big Guy has admitted that there might be a dish made better somewhere than right here in My City… don’t worry too much. And don’t get yourself too used to it happening either: it won’t happen often enough to warrant that. Just this once, though, we’ll try something new. An open mind is ok. Just don’t let it get so open that you forget where the center of the Universe is. For my money, though, if it’s Barbeque you’re after, make the road trip and make sure it’s the real thing. There is no place better for North Carolina Barbeque than North Carolina. ‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

You've seen the sea gulls.. now it's time for the Bagels!

2007-01-26T10:25:00.000-08:00

New York… City of my birth… Center of the Universe…I really start to miss it sometimes, especially when it seems like half the people I know in LA are going there some time in the near future. Definitely time to book a trip.

I’m not sure, but I think what got me started was bagels. I could say “I can’t remember the last time I had a really good bagel…” but that would be a lie. I remember exactly when the last time I had a good bagel was: last time I was home, of course! When it comes to this breakfast of (NYT crossword) champions, I am really selective about where I go and what I eat- but that’s nothin’ new. And you can be assured of one thing- I have found a few places that make my favorite bagel, my favorite way; for me, it’s gotta be an Everything Bagel with a nice schmear of lox spread- nothing, but nothing, else will do.

Now, if you’re looking to have a sit-down with a bagel and some smoked fish, this list would have to be revised. I love these takeout places best for a quick bite on the go- like a good slice- but if you wanna go full on, you’ll have to consider places like Barney Greengrass (best chopped liver in the city- even for a mensch goy like me!!), Ess A Bagel, or Noah’s. A whole separate write-up as far as I’m concerned.

There is a great shop in Carroll Gardens, on the corner of Henry and Union. And considering what my bagel of choice is, it seems the perfect place for me: Everything Bagel. First time I was here was during a snowstorm- big feather-like flakes were piling up on any surface they could find- the street, cars, me… I stepped in and was greeted by the great smell of fresh baked bagels and the beautiful sight of baskets behind the counter loaded with them. It was my first time here and I went right for the benchmark so I could make a proper call on the place- Everything with Lox spread, coffee regular. I was not disappointed: the bagel was still warm, making the cream cheese a little mushada; it had a slightly crisp exterior with a good mix of salt, garlic, onion, and all the appropriate seeds and the steamy interior was just chewy enough… Great coffee too, which never hurts.

If the mood strikes me while I am on the West Side, up in the 70’s/80’s, there is a great little spot on Amsterdam Ave. Bagel Talk has warm bagels coming out of the oven all day long. The turnover is fast and I’ve actually been double-parked out front waiting for their Everything Bagels to come out- warm and chewy on the outside, steam coming off the soft doughy inside as it is cut open- what else is there? Let them put a nice (Now if only I could avoid those meter-maids …)

These two places are good if you’re in town, but to get my favorite bagels, the best bagels I have ever had, you would have to go east- out to the Island. May seem like a long trip, but that never stopped me and it shouldn’t stop you either. I have been eating bagels from this place since…whoa- a really long time. Take the LIE to exit 37 or the GCP to exit 28 and head south a bit. On Willis Ave in Albertson, you’ll find a place called Bagels and Bialys. Couldn’t be more straightforward than that, could it? This place has been putting out the best everything bagel the world has ever known for as long as I can remember. It is THE perfect bagel. Hit it with a schmear of (you guessed it) lox spread and chase it with a nice cuppa coffee; could you get much closer to heaven in a handheld breakfast? Almost enough to make me convert!! The line on any given morning, not just Saturday or Sunday, is surprising, but only if you have never tasted their bagels. I used to make the occasional trip from the boros out here just for bagels. I’m not sure, but I think the receipts from any given Sunday would just about wipe out the national debt- I have seen the line that long!!

So there it is- the Big Guy’s picks for a few places to catch a great bite on the run. If you find yourself in the neck of the woods of any of these places at any given time, do yourself a favor, step in and grab a half dozen to take home and let them fix one for you to have on the ride, too. If you don’t wanna do yourself a favor, then do me a favor and send em out to me- these lifeless lumps of dough out in SoCal are killin me!!

Remember, bagels aren’t just a breakfast food- like a good slice, not only good to travel with… you could eat it any time. Stop in any of these places anytime they’re open and ask for whatever they have that’s warm with a schmear- if they won’t tell you what’s warm, put your hand on the glass window between you and your meal- you’ll find out fast enough. There’s no way you could be disappointed. ‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

Everything Bagel
520 Henry St
(corner of Union)

Bagel Talk
368 Amsterdam Ave
(left side b/t 77th and 78th)

Bagels and Bialys
1152 Willis Ave
Albertson LI

Let Me Get Right to the Ponte

2007-01-08T12:43:00.000-08:00

When it comes to eating, I love all my basics- a nice dish of macaroni, maybe some chicken cutlets, and of course pizza; but even the Big Guy can’t live on pizza alone- believe me, I’ve tried.

Now, in my mind, stepping out for any reason in New York is a reason to get “dressed”; And even more if you’re stepping out for a good meal; at least a button down and some nice slacks- all those tourists in sneakers and backpacks can really kill the mood. (Side note: in Southern Cal, everybody seems to think jeans are appropriate dinner wear. Trust me, no matter how much you paid for them, jeans are rarely ever acceptable dinner wear.) When I’m looking to keep things a little “Uptown” without having to go Uptown, I like to head over to F.Illi Ponte.

During the summer, the time to sit down is just ahead of sunset. As the sun reflects off the River, Jersey actually makes a decent backdrop (I knew it was good for something!). During the winter, sunset is way too early, so any time after dark will do.

F.illi Ponte is a great place; I hope I don’t ruin my chances at getting a table so easily by talking it up too much! I really am a big fan of this place, and on so many levels.

First, the restaurant is gorgeous- all exposed brick and open archways. The staff is great, too: attentive without being over your shoulder and rushing you through every plate. Every time I’ve been here, I get treated like a regular, from my first visit all the way through to the most recent (which hasn’t been recent enough, by the way!).

Let’s sit down and get started. Now, right off the bat, I’ll tell you: the menu at Ponte is great and you really can’t miss with anything it offers but, listen, they don’t call ‘em “specials” for nothing! Pay close attention to the waiter and don’t be afraid to try something new. Before you can get to that, though, they hit you with some great bread to get the ball rolling. It is always fresh, and it doesn’t just taste that way because they warmed it. But the real kicker is this- they also set you up with a nice plate of fresh mozz and some eggplant caponata. Not from the jar either- this stuff is like my Aunt Maria makes. Talk about starting you off in the right direction!!

Their steady menu always reflects some seasonal changes and I usually find myself hard pressed to figure out what to start with. Broccoli rabe and sausage, always a good choice, or maybe a plate of Littlenecks. But I’ll tell you what, if you catch them in season absolutely go with the squash blossoms- a winner every time.

Next, if we’re gonna do this right (and when it comes to food, we’re always gonna do our best to get it right), we need to work in some pasta for a real first dish, at least a half order of something. Maybe a simple dish, like a little Ziti al Pomodoro or a some Linguine Aglio e Olio. Most people would say “Sure, that’s it, keep it light- there’s more to follow”. Not me, though. I always go straight for the goods. Like maybe some fresh Gnocchi or Ravioli, especially if it’s a plain cheese rav. Last time I had those here, the macaroni was unbelievably tender and it was filled with a creamy, rich, almost liquid center that had to be a combination of ricotta and béchamel. The delicate shell of macaroni played beautifully off the rich interior. It was topped with a ragout of duck that must have been slow-cooked all day over a flame no hotter than a match. I mean, this was the perfect combination of tender meat and tomato, with a hint of wine behind it. I can still feel the textures of that dish, and almost even taste it...

Ok- here is where we slow it down a little. It would really be a waste to rush a meal like this, so let’s take this moment to pause for a brief intermission. This is the perfect time to sit back with a little wine (some Villa Antinori Chianti, if I get my way, or on an extra special night it could be Brunello di Montalcino), maybe pick at a little green salad, with some vinegar and oil, just to break things up a little. Take a little time and think about the great meal you are in the middle of, from the bread and caponata down to that last leaf you just ate. Enjoy the company of those fortunate enough to be with you that evening. Let the whole thing sink in and leave an impression on you that will last till the next time you can come back. The second act is about to start, and if you planned it right, it’s gonna be a killer.

This is where I get a little picky. (OK, OK- the picky thing didn’t really start here) Like I said, the menu here is great. Who could argue with a Veal chop with mushrooms and a little Marsala? Or maybe a thirty ounce T-Bone? Even a little Aragosta all’Arabbiata, their signature dish, might be nice. And the specials are, well, “eexxxtra special”. And for most anyone out there, this would be enough. Not for me though; I’m not that easy. I remember when I was growin’ up, Mom would make one thing for dinner and I wanted another; she’d tell me “Whaddaya think this is, a restaurant?” Hey Ma, tonight, it is!! So, anyway, I like to see if I can go off the menu a little. Don’t be afraid to ask for something you like if you don’t see it; I can’t remember ever being turned down on a reasonable special request. For example, I love Veal Saltimbocca and there are a couple of places that never fail to make it for me; it’s perfect, but off the menu. Not here though. At Ponte, I always ask if they might be able to fix me a dish of Chicken Scarpariello. This dish is one of my favorites and it is one of those dishes they make exceptionally well here: sausage, potatoes, and chicken (on the bone is always the way to go with this one) in a light white wine sauce with onion, garlic and some hot and sweet peppers. Niiiice. Hey- I could make this at home. Sure, why not; but it’s so good here, I almost never do.

Alright, we’re down to the wire here and I hope you saved some room for dessert. What better way to finish this fine meal than with coffee and something sweet? After you have given everything a few minutes to settle down, get ready for your finale. Double espresso to start with, of course, and some Marie Brizzard on the side. Dessert, if I can manage it, always depends on the season. I love the Italian Cheesecake they make here… almost as good as Gramma’s ! (Don’t tell her I said that, or I’ll never see another slice in my life!!) But in the summer, nothing works as good as a little sorbet- lemon usually. Gives you a nice finish to a great meal.

While it may not be a place for dinner every night (I don’t know if my belt could take it), Ponte’s is the perfect place to spend three or four hours at dinner with good friends. Not a bad spot to stop in for a cocktail or two, either, and maybe catch a piece of a Yankee game.

No two ways about it, if you want to step out for a meal at a place that hits every mark- beautiful room, great staff, excellent view, and knock-out food, F.illi Ponte is where you need to go…‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

F.illi Ponte
39 Debrosses St (at West St)

A Few Slices of Heaven

2006-12-08T10:56:00.000-08:00

Ok- I know I promised it could be done, so here it is: a list of my favorite pizzerias in the five boros. The list is separated by boro, but other than that, not in any particular order, just in the order I thought of them…. And one more thing… I know there are so many more places out there, really great places that I won’t mention here because I haven’t been there, so before you start telling me my list isn’t definitive, just understand… this list is really the only one you need! ‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

New York (Manhattan, to the tourists)

La Traviata 101 W 68th St
(b/t Broadway and Columbus)

Great gas oven pizza; crust is crisp and soft in all the right spots; right amount of everything – cheese, sauce, toppings; speaking of toppings, this is the only place I know of that will make a pie with green olives, a huge favorite of mine; I used to cab it to this place when I moved just outside of the delivery zone-its that good

Delizia Pizzeria
1374 1st Ave
(b/t 73rd and 74th St)

Like Traviata, good gas oven pizza; nice crust and overall a repeater; great location on the East Side; nice antipasto salad, but that’s off topic…

Steve’s Pizza 110 Trinity Pl
(@Cedar St)

Love this place for it’s heavy slices; cheese, cheese, and did I mention cheese?; always way too hot on that first bite, but there’s no other way to eat it; working Downtown, this was one of my favorite post-Happy Hour stops- always hit the spot

The Bronx

Full Moon Pizzeria
600 E 187th St (@ Arthur Ave.)
(Belmont)

This is my First “Place” from when I was a kid, back when it was the Half Moon and was a few doors down on 187th St; texture on this pie is unbelievable- perfect grit of semolina on the bottom and edge; Sicilian slice here buries everyone else in the traditional NY pizza world; crisp on bottom and a good coating of sauce and cheese lay on a pillow-like - no, make that a cloud-like layer of soft dough; pair it off with a Manhattan Special… man- it’s unbeatable

Louie and Ernie's
1300 Crosby Ave
(Pelham Bay)

Louie and Ernie's, wow- walking down those short stairs as a kid, I remember the smell hitting me and my stomach starts rumbling, even now; I have distinctive childhood memories about a great Sausage Pie from here,memories that were confimed and validated by The Hungry Cabbie: http://www.famousfatdave.com/blog/category/bronx/pelham-bay

Queens

Nick's Pizza
108-26 Ascan Ave
(Forest Hills)

Nice pizza; thin crust where the sauce can get a little soupy; great flavor though, with plenty of fresh basil

Ciro’s Pizzeria
11303 Beach Channel Dr
(Rockaway Park)

Great pizza; thin crust without flopping and getting sloppy; pretty standard, but memorable

Brooklyn

J&A Pizza
7820 New Utrecht Ave
(@78th St)

Great pizza made by a father and son team; right at the base of the stairs to the train; great slices; always hot, always fresh; crust has a great taste; two slices and a soda here are a delicious way to ruin your appetite for dinner on the way home

Lenny’s
1969 86th St

Great pie; great flavor, cheese, sauce and not too much grease; really good Sicilian too; one of the last places to not bow to conventional nutritional demands- you can still get a fried calzone here, but like the antipasto salad at Delizia, that would be off topic

Grimaldi’s
19 Old Fulton St

A little bit of coalfired history here; great, great pizza; paper-thin crisp crust; FRESH MOZZ ONLY!! (what a shame- I HATE to see that); great sauce, very fresh; nice well-done, almost burnt edges give every pie a character of its own; lotsa fresh basil- all around a must have

L&B Spumoni Gardens
2725 86th St

No list of pizzerias in Brooklyn would be complete without this; the square here is definitely the star attraction; in a little twist, you’ll find the sauce over the cheese; the flavor is distinctive, nothing in any of the boro’s even comes close to the taste or the texture; it can be a little messy, so I always tried to get a slice with a “handle” ; this stuff is addictive; everyone said I was crazy for going all the way there to pick up a pie from 16th Ave and 82nd St, but there were just those times I had to have it; and there is no substitute once the L & B craving hits you

Staten Island

I don't make it out to Staten Island all that often for pizza, between the bridge hassle and all the great pizza so close to home... Anyone want to help me out?

A Great Cuppa Joe

2006-10-24T07:48:00.000-07:00

If I stop and think about how much coffee I have probably consumed in my life, astronomical figures start racking up in my head. Not that I can think about it and say "This one particular cup of coffee on this day was the best I have ever had"; my recall is good, but not that good. Generally speaking though, I always have a sense for when and where I have had good coffee. So many great cups of coffee at just the right temperature, with just the right flavor. Not a single one of them has ever come from Starbucks, Peet's, or any other corporate chain.
My favorite coffee comes in a blue and white cup with Corinthian columns and gold lettering thanking me for my patronage and asking me to please call again... and let me tell you, that cup is a magic cup. I’m almost sure that it’s impossible to serve a bad cup of coffee in one of those cups. These magic cups can be found in most diners, corner deli’s, and nearly all of those beautiful silver coffee carts that can be found on almost any corner of My Fair City.
The people in these carts spend most of the year braving one extreme weather condition or another: in the winter, they freeze and in the summer, they bake. The thing that remains constant is the fantastic coffee. No need to ask them to “leave some room”, either. Unlike those high priced cups of Corporate Coffee, these purveyors of caffeinated goodness will actually prepare your coffee for you. Why fool around with trying to judge just how much milk and sugar to put in? Their bargain rate buys the services of an expert, someone who makes hundreds of cups of coffee everyday. Sorta how Mom always knew just the right way to make your sang-wich.
And you won't need a pocket translator to order, either. You have your basic sizes of small and large. You have decaf and regular. Skim or regular milk. You can ask for your coffee by depth of color, too:light, half-and half (for those mornings you want to treat yourself), regular, dark, or black. And you can ask for your sugar by the count, making for easy combos- regular with one sugar, for example. In short, you can order your coffee (note I said coffee, not coffee flavored drink) any way you want it. And I was always happy to be able to retain my dignity and masculinity by not having to resort to some ridiculous made up name to ask for a good old cuppa joe.
I still remember going to my "coffee guy" on the corner of New St. and Exchange Pl... after the first two or three days, he had my "usual" down- large coffee, milk, half a sugar, and a buttered roll. The tab? A whopping $1.50. Can you believe it? And the coffee actually came with the milk and sugar put in it! The coffee was hot and delicious, not burned; the roll was fresh, topped with poppy seeds and had likely been baked in the “Wee Small Hours of the Morning” (ahh, Frank), not delivered by some refrigerator truck from headquarters, wrapped in plastic with a nutrition label slapped on the back and an ingredients list a mile long. Of course, just to keep it interesting, I would have to throw the occasional curveball. Large regular with two buttered rolls (regular in the City means milk, but across the River in Jersey, ask for regular and you are likely to get some sugar in there too). Or I might opt for a danish. But that great coffee was a constant. And always in those special cups.
Around here, I can’t find a decent cup of coffee for a reasonable price (sometimes even for a not-so-reasonable price), not to mention the requisite buttered roll to pair off with it. The chains have convinced the masses that it is ok to spend $3 on a cup of coffee. So, these days, I mainly drink my own brew. My brother sends me the coffee from the same store my grandmother used to go to in the Bronx and I use an old percolator espresso pot on top of the stove. Sometimes, if you want something done right… But when I go Home, I always make sure I get over to have breakfast on my old corner, eating and drinking some of the best food on Earth.
Hey, if you are lucky enough to be in the City at breakfast time, whether you are just getting up or just getting in, make sure you stop and grab a great cuppa joe in that beautiful blue and white cup. It’s the only way to go. ‘Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so!!

When the Moon hits your eye...

2006-09-25T07:07:00.000-07:00

OK- so now we are going to move on to something near and dear to my Big Guinea heart... Pizza. I never feel more at home than when I have a coupla slices in front of me and (hopefully) a Manhattan Special chaser. I won't begin to try and write about my favorite places to partake of the pie while in New York. There isn't enough room here to impart all the delicious details and, if there was, who really has THAT kind of time?!?? (...I don't know if I could even just LIST all the places... actually, I'm sure I could, but that will have to wait for another day...)

First and foremost, I like my own pizza best while in California. However, I don't always have time to build a fire in the brick oven out back, let it burn for two hours to get the temperature up, break out the dough and everything else involved... Sometimes I just wanna walk in, grab two slices and wash 'em down with a little carbonated sugar water. When I get to feeling that way and I'm in Southern California, there are only a few places "on the outside" that will do.

In Los Angeles, I have found two places that can really call what they make 'pizza' and both are owned by NY transplants. The first one I found was Albano's (officially Albano's Brooklyn Pizzeria), a little place on Melrose Ave, on the north side just west of La Brea. First time I walked in and took a deep breath, I knew I was in the right place. These guys make a great pie. Actually, they make a lot of great pies. My two tops are the plain slice- the benchmark by which you can judge all pizzerias- and their white pie with spinach. Both are pretty heavy on the garlic; not overdone- just enough to carry you back to Brooklyn. Great ambiance too. Plaster walls covered with some Brooklyn love- a picture of MY bridge with MY Towers in the background and the REAL Dodgers. The rest of the wall is covered with signatures, well wishes, and signed headshots. Lotta familiar faces- niiice.

My other LA spot is in Venice- the Abbot's Pizza Company, a pizzeria also started by some guys from NY. This place makes a nice pie, thin crust and just the right amount on top. They also do something I have only seen at one other place (Pietro's in East Meadow LI); they line the edge of the crust with a topping of its own: you get a choice of sesame, poppy, onion, garlic, or "the blend". Because of this "seed "condition, their pizza is often called Bagel Crust pizza. You also get a choice of sauces (Olive pesto, garlic pesto, alfredo, and of course, tomato sauce) I'm a purist- I really don’t delve into the "optional" sauce categories all that much. And Sesame seed is as adventurous as I have gone with the crust. If I wanted a bagel, I'd get a bagel and some lox- that's a whole different animal. In general, I stick with a good old regular crust, the way the good Lord intended us to eat it. I have two favorites here also: their plain pie (of course) and the Popeye Chicken Pie, with spinach, mushrooms, onions, and marinated chicken over the olive pesto sauce. Normally I don't go that far off the block when it comes to pizza, but this one is really good. Definitely worth a try.

Further south in San Diego, I have one more spot that hits home with me. They even got the name right: Bronx Pizza. It is a place started by a few guys from the Bronx (and one guy from Huntington). Are we starting to see a pattern here? These guys started in a little place with a great approach: the "2 slices and a soda" deal. Last time I checked it was $6, which is ok, I guess. You get two slices of any pizza you see and a fountain soda. There is always a good variety in the case, with vegetables, meat, and white pizza available almost all the time. They make a great plain pie and their sausage pie is great, too: lots of meat and great flavor. Plus, it’s about the only place I can go in San Diego and get a little NY attitude. The walls are covered with all kinds of NY memorabilia- a map of the Belmont section of the Bronx (Mom's old neighborhood) and a great mural that you can see from sitting at their "counter" seats are most notable.

Now- here comes the disclaimer: while in Southern California, I can recommend all of these places. They represent the best of what exists in the pizza business in this area. If we were in NY, who knows? Things would probably be a little different. There is more competition and that only brings improvement. Given the option, we all know I'd be in NY eating a coupla slices. I am, however, here... in this place... eating this stuff.

Hey, I love my own pizza, but if I have to go to the "outside", the only three options are Albano's , Abbot's, and Bronx Pizza. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so.

Omakase, Itamae-san

2006-09-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

Probably one of the best things I have learned about food here in California is that the sushi here is unbelievable. Don't get me wrong, I have a handful of favorite spots that I can't live without in New York- mostly small, quiet places (like Mori, Tomoe, Koodo- mmmmmmmmm, Koodo) But the sushi on the left coast is killer; I suppose it doesn't hurt that so much of the fish comes from the Pacific, giving it a better shot at freshness.

Now, I'm not saying ALL the sushi out here is great- it definitely isn't. I've paid the tab on some sub-standard meals, and let me tell you- The Big Guy was not too happy about that. But I digress; I am here to talk about Good Food, not bad. Having said that, I will tell you that my best "full experience" in a sushi restaurant was in Downtown LA at a great little place called Sushi Sharin. The first time I popped in there, I opened the door and almost retreated. The room was pretty full, and it didn't sound like anyone was speaking English. I was more than a little intimidated. I stayed, though, and I'm really glad that I did.

The true "experience" came on my third or fourth visit. I sat down and gave full control of my meal that night to Itamae-san (the chef). This was probably the single smartest move I have ever made in any restaurant. It's like going to Sunday dinner at Gramma's house- she knows all the right stuff to make and all the things that she makes best.

I ate so many different foods that night that I never would have known to try, more new tastes and textures than I have ever had in one sitting. Everything, from the crispy, fried baby mackerel (yes- you eat the whole thing, bones and all) to the uni that finished my meal- was spot-on. Somewhere along the way, I had a small bowl with broth, vegetables, and a couple of pieces of cooked fish that had the most fantastic, clean taste. I mean I could actually taste the fish. The texture was perfect- firm, yet giving as my teeth went into it. The bit of seaweed salad with a touch of ginger mixed in was ideal. The simplicity of all of it was one of the most refreshing and exciting parts of this experience. There were so many delicious tidbits from start to finish that I had never known about, and still feel like I don't really know about. It was impossible to keep up with what everything was.

There was an older couple sitting next to me (late sixties, easily- maybe older). They went from speaking Japanese with the chef to speaking English with me seamlessly. They spent part of the evening encouraging me to "put the chopsticks down and eat with your fingers" and part of the time watching me like parents looking at their child eating for the first time. I think they were surprised by the range of what I found palatable. By the end of the meal, I think I had won some respect for my open attitude towards the meal, especially the uni. The gentleman even questioned the chef as he prepared it and passed it over to me. Itamae-san smiled, though; I'm sure he remembered I had ordered and raved about it on each of my previous visits.

Every piece of fish I ate was ideal. It was fresh and firm. The cuts were just right: generous, but not Godzilla sized (can I say that?!??). The rice was certainly fresh, also. And perfectly seasoned with a touch of vinegar and sugar balancing the light stripe of wasabi painted onto the rice under each piece of fish in the nigiri-sushi.

Itamae- san knows his business- the sequence of my meal,the varying of taste and texture, and the perfect bottle of cold sake that he chose to go with it- all of this combined to create a lasting impression.

In Downtown LA, Sushi Sharin is the place to go for a "full-experience" sushi dinner. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so.

Sushi Sharin
359 E. 1st St
Los Angeles

Mori
239 Park Ave South
New York

Tomoe
172 Thompson St
New York

Koodo
129 Front St, Lower level
New York

On the Hunt for some New York Soul Food

2006-08-30T10:20:00.000-07:00

Footnote to the Boar's Head marketing department on that one- I never thought about it as such, but it seems so elementary. Pastrami and Corned Beef definitely qualify as New York Soul Food. Places like Katz's and the Second Avenue Deli (RIP) are staples to the NYC diet. They provide a real comfort meal that is tough to find once you venture off the Isle of Man(hattan), if you expect even a minimal amount of quality and flavor. When I started working in LA, I knew that I would have to find something to keep the tastebuds happy. I read about a place called Langer's on a few websites and figured I had to try it.

I could not have been happier. I stepped in and immediately felt at home- from the long counter and the red vinyl booths to the smells coming from the deli counter; everything was dead on. I immediately sat down, looked at the huge menu, and wiped a joyful tear from the corner of my eye.

The menu was filled with delights I haven't seen since before I migrated to the West. I hardly knew where to begin. As a newcomer to the area, I took the suggestion of the sign I saw coming in. I ordered the #19 (Pastrami, Swiss, and Russian, with Cole Slaw on the sandwich) on what I sincerely hoped would be a decent rye bread (I have had a hard time finding good bread, being as spoiled as I am from the last three decades of so many carbohydrate options) and a Dr Browns Black Cherry as a chaser.
The plate hit the table and if appearances meant anything, I was definitely in the right place. The meat was piled high, in an even spread across the bread. The juices of the Cole Slaw dribbled enticingly down the side, begging to be licked away.

The first bite assured me that I was right. The Pastrami was perfect- tasty, flavorful, not overly salted, and just enough fat to keep it tender(Pastrami was never really meant to be eaten "extra-lean", no matter what your doctor tells you). The sweet-spicy Cole Slaw only enhanced the levels of taste. And the bread.... oh the bread.... was that a crunch I detected as I took that first bite from the edge? I had to take a second bite off the other edge to be sure. Eureka! Nirvana! Heaven! I had finally found what I had searched for over the past year or so that I was here: a bread that was soft on the inside and had a crisp crust on the outside. The bread was perfect.

Now, before any of my NYC brethren come out here with a baseball bat, I am not drawing comparisons to Katz's Pastrami... like a good parent, I can love them both. Besides, unless I had a side by side, freshly made sandwich from each, it would be tough to call. Hey, look- I'm from NY so Katz's will always be at the top of my list, it's special to me like everything else in that Great City is. But I don't get the option of a Katz's sandwich here (I've called, and no way they'll deliver a sandwich here). In LA, Langer's is number one in the Pastrami department. 'Cause Johnny Tomatoes says so.

Langer's Delicatessen
704 South Alvarado
Los Angeles

And so it begins...

2006-08-29T12:29:00.000-07:00

Sooo... at the suggestion of my best friend's wife, I am embarking on a side career as a blogger. To give you a little background, I am a 32 year old male of Italian(Sicilian)-Irish descent. I spent a few years behind the line in the restaurant business and I have spent the last 10+ years in the Securities Industry. I'm not sure which of these two career paths helped me develop my palate. Maybe it was neither of these; maybe it was the years of exposure to the fantastic cooking of Mom, Grandma, and Great Grandma... I'll have to give that one a little more thought.
Until recently, I had spent my entire life living in and around the five boros. Now, I live in a place where.... well, let me just say I'm still getting used to the idea of the ocean being on the wrong side and a general lack of rain, even on cloudy days. OK OK- I'll cop to it already- I live in Southern California; during the week I work in LA and I spend the rest of my time in San Diego. Now as a die-hard, hardcore New Yorker, I have had to try very hard to give this place a fair shake- especially in the food department. I have to admit, though, that it is growing on me. I spend a lot of my time looking for good food and pondering the wonders of the universe. I really want to use this blog to share my thoughts about food for the most part, but I'm sure that other things are going to creep in also. Well, like a good "best-man" speech, I'll keep this one short; next time, I promise to write about a food experience in one of the cities I have lived in (which city will depend on how homesick or nostalgic I am feeling)