Writing With My Mouth Full

recent posts

    • Cafe Cortadito

      210 East 3rd Street between Avenue B and C
      212/614.3080
      $158 for 4, with drinks, with tip
      ♥ ♥

      One of my favorite things about eating with friends? Sharing food. One of my least? Wasting food. So I was taken aback when I read the footnote on the Cafe Cortadito menu that a fee would be tacked on if main courses are split between guests. I’m not exactly sure as to why they would stop diners from sharing a dish because each one is ample for more than one. It probably made sense when they were still waiting for their liquor license, but now that you can order a pitcher of champagne sangria and a few glasses of red wine, sharing a ropa vieja with a bottle of Cab between friends just makes more sense to me.

      Chef Ricardo Arias is Salvadorian, and his wife, Patricia Valencia, is from Ecuador, but you wouldn’t know any of that when you taste the Cuban-inspired food. The meat dishes were delicious; the skirt steak was well-seasoned and I couldn’t stop eating the chimichurri salsa. The oxtail braised in tomatoes and red wine reminded me of a good family meal. I didn’t finish my dish but I ate as much as I can that I had heartburn for the rest of the night. Of course, I could have skipped the maduros, or the sweet plantains, but I couldn’t help myself from ordering something else besides meat. By the end of the night, I was pining for fresh and green vegetables with a shot of whisky to push everything down.

      I’m not a big fan of paying a lot of money for Latin food because I grew up in Washington Heights in New York City and was surrounded by very affordable home-cooked meals from the Caribbean and Central America. Besides, most of the Cuban restaurants I’ve tried were not even good enough to warrant a review. Cafe Cortadito changed all that: the food is simply tasty even if I couldn’t share all of it.

      Related post/s:
      Read about my 2003 trip to Cuba

    • Where to eat in Englewood, New Jersey: Nisi Estiatorio

      I was attracted to Nisi after a press release came in about their Easter weekend special: lamb on a spit. I’ve been around many pigs and cows on spits before but never a whole lamb, so I jumped on the chance to partake during one of the biggest Greek religious holidays of the year. For some reason, I had a picture in my head that we’ll be on New Jersey greenery whiling away our Sunday afternoon with drinks in hand. Not so. The lamb were definitely roasting on spits just outside the restaurant, but they were along a busy main road next to the parking lot. We didn’t really spend any time outside watching the lamb cook because it seemed silly to be standing on hot concrete when there were white tablecloths waiting inside the spacious and airy restaurant. I was disappointed, for sure, but I soon got over my expectations when the food started to come in.

      The grilled sardines were superb with capers and only a drizzle of lemon juice and good olive oil. Grilled sardines made me happy when I was in Tunisia–the closest I’ve ever been to the Mediterranean–and I can’t wait for the day when I finally go to Crete and someone’s grandma will feed me the same dish on the beach. The octopus was so tender, it disappeared in under five minutes.

      The magiritsa, a soup made of lamb offal, was the most delicious soup I’ve had in a long time. Thick from the avgolemono, or egg-lemon mixture, and rich from the lamb parts stewing for several hours, it made me want to have the flu just so I can eat a whole pot of it. It’s that kind of soup that would make you feel so much better if you were under the weather. The sweetbread was soft and rich and we couldn’t get enough of the carp roe mousse with ground almonds and the roasted eggplant spread.

      When the roasted lamb was finally served, we were glad to see some of the best parts on our plates. It was amazing to me how the lamb was cooked evenly just outside the restaurant. I grew up experiencing roasting animals as a part of a bigger event and I was pretty impressed that this could be done at Nisi without the hoopla of an entire village partaking in the process.

      I have to mention something about the service. When we first walked in, we were taken aback at how formal everything looked. We felt out of place because we were the only couple in the entire restaurant; everyone else was seated with their big families. Our waiter, however, made us feel relaxed. He gave us tidbits about Greek food: the red egg on the traditional braided bread, or tsoureki, symbolizes the blood of Christ and the renewal of life, while the magiritsa is eaten to break the 40-day fast undertaken by Greeks during Lent. He was also very helpful in guiding us through which Greek wines matched our meal. He encouraged us to order per glass since we expressed our limited knowledge in Greek grapes and he happily poured us small tastes to steer us towards the best-tasting ones.

      We might not have danced or screamed opa! that weekend, but because the food harmoniously came together, we felt like we had our own celebration of Greek Easter at Nisi.

      Nisi Estiatorio is at 90 Grand Avenue in Englewood, New Jersey. Call them at 201/567.4700 and ask the next time they roast lamb outside.

      Related post/s:
      Nisi Estiatorio roasted lamb photos on Flickr
      See the kind of hoopla I’m talking about with Filipino animal slaughter
      Grilled sardines the Tunisian way
      It’s not the first time I’ve spent over $50 on a cab ride just to get to a restaurant

    • Perilla

      9 Jones Street between West 4th and Bleecker Streets
      212/929.6868
      $147 for three, with a bottle of wine, without tip
      ♥ ♥

      I’ve watched Top Chef enough to know that the judges sometimes can’t make up their minds between “cooking outside the box” and “sticking with what you know”. You had Carla who finally stuck with the food most familiar to her and she made it to the final round. You had Marcel the twat who does everything Wylie Dufresne style and the judges sometimes thought it–he–was too much. But then there were episodes when the contestants were not trying hard enough or were trying too much–you just couldn’t predict what the judges were going to say next.

      When Frank Bruni gave a less than stellar review to Perilla, Harold Dieterle’s first restaurant, my heart went out to the first-season Top Chef winner. I can’t even imagine the anxiousness chefs feel when their new restaurant opens in New York City because one review can either make or break them. Three years later, Perilla is still in business and thankfully so because I had a very good dinner there a couple of months ago with some friends. We were looking for a low-key spot to get together and catch up with our holiday stories, particularly a small place where we didn’t have to scream at each other to have a conversation. In fact, Perilla doesn’t even look like it came from a TV winner. I gather that if people who have never seen the show walked in the restaurant, they would think the same way I did: Oh, this is nice and cozy and that’s about it.

      I walked in and joined the standing queue at the bar one prime Saturday night. My friends joined me a few minutes after the bartender made my martini and we were soon seated right next to the kitchen entrance. I went for the sure-fire lamb while my friend ordered the fish; her fiancé, beef. A hamachi crudo was refreshing with yuzu and the notorious duck meatballs didn’t disappoint. Brussels sprouts and sunchokes are usual fare in seasonal menus and they both served their purposes well at Perilla.

      The portions were larger than what I usually see in the city for the same prices, and considering I was unemployed at the time, I couldn’t complain. The food and the service matched the ambiance: nothing was overdone because everything was modest. Maybe now that chef Dieterle has made it past Bruni’s claws, he’d be willing to cook outside of his comfort zone. But you know what? Maybe I’d like for him to cook just the way he’s been cooking.

      Related post/s:
      There’s Market Table a few blocks away
      wd-50 is for you if you prefer the East Village

    • Pancit Canton, Filipino Noodles with Stir-Fried Vegetables

      I skipped swimming tonight to run some errands I’ve been putting off the last week so all I wanted for dinner was something healthy and quick to make. I wanted a lot of half-cooked vegetables and imagined a lot of crunch to my meal. I immediately thought of cabbage and bubble and squeak, but I didn’t really feel like eating potatoes. I turned to the Filipino pancit after I remembered that I still have a package of cooked noodles from the Khmer Legacies swag a couple of weeks ago.

      Canton noodles, one of the many Chinese influences Filipinos call their own, are long egg noodles that have been precooked and dried before packaging and thus only require a few minutes to cook. Time the prep just right and you’ll be slicing and dicing while the first batch of vegetables are cooking. This way, your time is spent efficiently and you avoid overcooking any of the ingredients. The worst is to eat soggy noodles. You can use angel hair noodles as a substitute here; just cook them al dente and toss with the vegetables before serving.

      Ingredients:
      1 pack of pancit Canton noodles
      2 cups of chicken broth
      1 small head of cabbage, sliced into strips
      1 cup of dried shiitake mushrooms, soaked in water then drained, roughly chopped
      a handful of string beans, roughly chopped
      1 small carrot, roughly chopped
      2 red bell peppers, julienned
      1 onion, chopped
      3 cloves of garlic, minced
      peanut oil
      sesame oil
      soy sauce
      juice from 1 lime
      salt

      1. Heat some peanut oil in a large skillet. Sauté garlic until brown and onions until soft. Add cabbage and toss until covered in oil. Let cook for about 5 minutes while occasionally mixing.
      2. Add the carrots and cook for another 2 minutes. Then add the softened mushrooms, string beans and the bell peppers. Keep tossing all the ingredients together to cook evenly. Add chicken broth and cover the skillet for 3 minutes to steam the vegetables.
      3. Meanwhile, soak the noodles in a bowl of water to soften them. Gently separate noodles by hand. Drain, uncover the skillet and add noodles with the vegetables. Drizzle some sesame oil for flavor and season with salt and a jigger or two of soy sauce to taste. Toss for another 3 minutes to make sure the noodles are evenly distributed. Remove to a plate and serve with lime juice for a little sting.

      Related post/s:
      I survived on homemade bubble and squeak while traveling in Iceland
      Khmer Legacies is preserving the history of the Khmer Rouge genocide to avoid future mass atrocities

    • Centovini

      25 West Houston Street between Greene and Mercer
      212/219.2113
      $196 for two, with five drinks, without tip
      ♥ ♥

      I knew I shouldn’t have ordered the $22 glass of Barolo but the guy behind the bar gave me a taste after I picked the $16 Muraglie and convinced me that it was the better way to go. It was a very good glass of wine and I gingerly drank it with the meats and cheeses that we ordered as appetizers, as well as with the asparagus salad topped with fried duck prosciutto and egg. For $20, we had a choice of five cheeses and salumis: we split the cacciatorini, the sweet coppa, the finocchiona and the Calcagno with the Testun al Barolo. I loved the subtle spring taste of the trout main dish with the fava beans, sprouts and sweet peas; a few pieces of morels upped the price to $28.

      I have walked by Centovini several times but never paid much attention to it because it looked far too dark from the outside. I thought the space would be a little too romantic to meet a friend, so I was surprised at how bright it actually was inside. We sat at the bar under the massive mirrored lamp and even felt like a surgery can be done right on the marble-top counter. The rest of the restaurant is quite handsome, with a beautiful wall of wine shelves in one end and a lounge area in another.

      The service was unobtrusive because they knew to leave us alone the entire time we were there. The bartender seemed to just show up whenever we needed to refill our wine glasses. And as to not interrupt our conversation, we would nod and just give him an okay–that makes for a very hefty bill after two and a half hours.

      You can still get away with a much simpler dinner–and less wine–before heading to Angelika Theater without spending too much. A three-course prix-fixe is available every night for just $38 while brunch on weekends goes for $18. Centovini isn’t Lupa but I think it’s a good spot to start the night off right. Just make sure you don’t order the Barolo.

      Related post/s:
      Kale and bacon salad recipe inspired by Lupa
      I still have to try Shorty’s .32 which was at the Goblin Market space

    • Ramps Fried Rice

      Now that everyone knows what ramps are, I don’t have to go to Vermont to rummage for them or pay $5 for a bunch at Whole Foods. The farmers market have settled on the $2.50 price for each small bundle and more than one tent sells them now. I still find them pricey–the Spotted Pig still gets away with charging $13 for a plate of it–so I’ve gotten used to pickling my own every spring to make them last longer than a week.

      After getting my first few bunches to welcome spring this year, I still had a couple to play with. With some pancetta in the fridge, I decided to add some cold rice to make a very onion-y fried rice. I matched it with some mâche tuna salad and lentil soup to make a hearty lunch box the next day.

      Ingredients:
      2 bunches of ramps, thoroughly washed, roots sliced off
      a thin sliver of pancetta, diced
      1 egg
      1 cup of leftover white rice, crushed with the back of your spoon
      salt, pepper

      1. Sweat the pancetta in a skillet with some hot oil and continue to cook until a little browned. Toss in ramps, season with salt and pepper, and sauté until wilted.
      2. Add rice and fry until warm. Crack the egg into the pot and mix with the rice until scrambled.

      Related post/s:
      Pickle your own amps for some martini
      Lentil soup recipe to match

    • Where to eat in Stamford: Colony Grill

      You know it was bound to happen, right? A month into my new job in Connecticut (yes, that Connecticut), I’ve had several chances to hitch rides with co-workers and try a few places for lunch. Since I don’t know how to drive, I’m at the mercy of those with cars and I go wherever they want to go. It’s been really nice to treat lunch time like a new food adventure because I never know what I’m going to get. Some of the places we’ve been to were meh, but a couple have been really decent.

      Now I’ve never really been a big fan of pizza. I think it’s because pizza reminds me of college and college reminds me of how poor I was. On a student budget, I ate poorly. As soon as I started to make money, I swore to myself that I was never going to go back to eating bad food again. “Bad” here, of course, is both in taste and in nutritional content, and pizza usually qualifies for both. I like my Otto and I like my John’s on Carmine just like anyone else, but never again will I “get a slice” because it’s 1am and I’m stumbling home from a bar–Han Bat in Koreatown is open 24 hours and I can get a better hungover meal there–and never again will I think pizza is “good because it’s cheap”–I can still get a plate of pork chops with rice under $5 from Chinatown.

      But go ahead and convince me otherwise. Let me know where you get your pizza and I’ll give it a shot–my boss did. He drove a couple of us from work during lunch to the notorious Colony Grill in Stamford, Connecticut. He wanted to prove to me that Colony’s pizza isn’t just regular pizza; it’s its own beast. He talked up the hot oil so much, I also got excited about it. I ended up liking the dive bar feel of the place and it seemed like the waitress knew every customer by name.

      We must have waited 45 minutes for three single pies and we were starving by the time they were served. I inhaled my sausage pie with stingers, or hot peppers, on the side without blinking an eye. The hot oil was not exactly spicy, but it made even the pepperoni better; the vegetable pizza was definitely better with it. I was speechless on the drive back to work and I was comatose the rest of the afternoon in my cubicle. College days be damned; Colony has some good pizza. I better watch out before I need to seek for a binge eating disorders treatment.

      Colony Grill is at 173 Myrtle Avenue in Stamford, Connecticut. You can call 203/359.2184 ahead to order but you’d still have to pick your pie up.

      Related post/s:
      Otto pizza is thin and crusty

    • Tsuki

      1410 First Avenue between 74th and 75th Streets
      212/517.6860
      $105 for two, with drinks, with tip
      ♥ ♥

      I have to be honest with you here: I’m not one hundred per cent sure I was at Tsuki. I’m pretty sure it was Tsuki because it’s one of the restaurants I have noted on my iPhone, but I have so many pending reviews I think I might have some of them mixed up. It wasn’t that the food was forgettable–as far as omakase sushi goes that won’t break the bank, the selection was pretty fresh and pretty good. There was nothing stunning about the interior because there was hardly any decor, and really, only this photo survived that night:

      I’m a little embarrassed that I’m showing my age here, but I’ve racked my brain and I still can’t confirm that it’s Tsuki I’m supposed to be reviewing. Help me out and I’ll edit later, but let me continue and tell you about the place anyway.

      We walked in around 930pm on a weeknight. Everyone else decided to stay indoors because it was cold out, but we were hungry after attending a retail store party with free sparkling wine. There were already two couples and a single diner sitting at the short bar, and because we always prefer to sit by the chef, we waited for our turn to sit there. Everyone left at the same time and we were able to move after only ten minutes. For the rest of the night, there were only three people with us inside: the chef, who also doubled as the dishwasher; the waitress, who could have been the chef’s wife and who also answered the phone; and a white guy in chef’s whites who returned from a food delivery but settled behind the bar after he had removed his coat.

      It certainly looked like a family business with, perhaps, the white guy as an apprentice, but they seemed like they needed an extra hand or two to make things run smoothly. We ordered our sushi piece by piece from the chef because he looked like he couldn’t handle more than two orders at once. He fulfilled orders that were called in and he ran back and forth from the kitchen to get clean serving plates. Meanwhile, the waitress picked up the phone, cleared the tables and packed deliveries while also refilling our water glasses.

      It took us two hours to go through a dozen sushi pieces each but we killed time by drinking Sapporo and cold sake. Although some of them fell apart while I tried to eat them, the restaurant had a varied selection that included hokigai, or red clam. The mackerel was great and the uni was fresh. After a while, eating there felt like we were in the Japanese couple’s dining room: we waited to be served; they waited for our feedback. We spoke in hushed tones and bowed every time plates were exchanged. We were comfortable and an inconvenience at the same time, staying after every guest had already left. I’m not sure if the frail couple reminded me of my parents but I felt very melancholy the whole time I was there; watching them work so hard to keep the night, and their business, alive. Sadness and sushi don’t make a good combination and maybe that’s why I’ve blocked the restaurant name out of my head.

      Related post/s:
      Le Bernardin was excellent, but it felt very stuffy

    • Tuna Sandwich

      Call it pan-bagnat or Niçoise salad in a bun–I’m calling it a tuna sandwich.

      The weather turned over the weekend and we scrambled for last-minute plans on Saturday morning. I woke the Dr. from a deep slumber to see if he wanted to get out of the city and hike. He wasn’t very happy when I found out that the last available Zip Car was parked in the garage five blocks from my apartment. He was grumbling when I fed him congee with preserved duck egg for breakfast; he was still grumbling when he drove almost an hour up to Cold Spring; and I swear he was still grumbling as we struggled up big rocks on Breakneck Ridge.

      I had prepared these tuna sandwiches while waiting for him to pick me up. He was expecting a packed lunch in return after being disturbed from his otherwise uneventful Saturday, but I don’t think he knew he was going to get a very good one. I was glad when he couldn’t stop complimenting me about them. They not only woke him up; he didn’t mind having someone push him into having a good weekend after that.

      Ingredients:
      1 can of good tuna in olive oil
      3 bread rolls, halved
      2 eggs, hard-boiled, sliced
      1 tomato, sliced
      several pieces of olives, pitted
      1 small red onion, sliced
      a handful of maché or arugula

      For the dressing:
      2 anchovy fillets, minced
      2 garlic cloves, minced
      1 tsp red wine vinegar
      1/2 tsp Dijon mustard
      oil, salt, pepper

      1. In a small bowl, mix together the dressing ingredients except for the oil. Slowly drizzle in oil, whisking constantly.
      2. Spread some of the dressing on one half of the bread. Top with tomato and onion slices, then with tuna, olives, greens and egg slices. Drizzle the remaining dressing. Cover with second bread half and firmly press sandwich together.
      3. Wrap sandwich tightly in foil, waxed paper or plastic wrap, then place in a plastic bag. Put sandwich under a weight such as a heavy book. Unwrap, slice and serve immediately.

      Related post/s:
      The perfect hungover breakfast: congee with preserved duck egg

    • Keens Steakhouse

      72 West 36th Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenues
      212/947.3636
      $130 for two, with drinks, with tip
      ♥ ♥ ♥

      To celebrate my getting a new job during these harsh economic times, the Dr. took me to Keens Steakhouse for their legendary mutton chops. I think I might have to keep him around for a while.

      The meat from a sheep less than twelve months old is called lamb, and as we all know, is usually tender and mild in flavor. The meat from an older sheep is called mutton, and for reasons I can’t find on the Web, is not as popular on New York City menus as lamb. Someone please explain why I can’t enjoy mutton much more often! We ordered it medium-rare and it was perfectly bloody and hefty. Keens wouldn’t be the only Herald Square Theater District survivor today if they haven’t been this consistent since 1885.

      For lack of better wording, mutton is more manly. I felt stronger and more carnivorous when I was eating it even though we were sharing one $45 chop. There is no lack of male reminders at Keens–the collection of churchwarden pipes from old customers cover the ceiling, from Teddy Roosevelt’s to General Douglas MacArthur’s. Walking in, you’d think you’ve entered a museum rather than a restaurant. If it wasn’t for Lillie Langtry, actress and paramour of King Edward of England, taking Keens to court in 1905 for having denied her access to its gentlemen-only premises, it will still be a rendezvous of the men’s club today. She won her case, swept into Keens in her feathered boa and ordered like a man.

      Related post/s:
      Simmering lamb ragu for more than 2 hours
      I’ll take lamb shanks any day, too

    • Where to eat in Big Sur, California: Deetjens Big Sur Inn

      I imagined the healthy and organic produce we will be eating while in Big Sur when I was planning our trip there a week before I started my new job. I knew it was against the ocean and very far from Berkeley, but I didn’t predict a shortage of fresh vegetables and good home cooking. I’m still not sure of what I was imagining Big Sur food to be like, but I really thought it would lean towards the hippie and the more natural. In fact, we had a difficult time finding anything agreeable to eat during our two-night stay in Big Sur.

      We drove 45 minutes away from our lodging and we must have stopped at all the restaurants up north short of Carmel. We walked in a few of them and checked out the menus but nothing was worth spending more than $20, much less sitting for more than an hour when we had to drive back on a dark winding road along the coast.

      We had driven by Deetjen’s on our way up and I reminded the Dr. of it before we gave up our search for a nice dinner. It was nestled among tall redwoods and looked as charming and cozy as it probably did back in the 1930s. We walked in squinting to adjust our vision because low lights barely illuminated the wooden space. The maitre d’ tsktsked at us when we told him we didn’t have reservations, but he quickly seated us in the Bar Room anyway.

      Our waitress told us that the soup special of the night was made of chanterelle mushrooms. I excitedly ordered a bowl of it thinking we had finally found organic Big Sur home-cooking. Unfortunately, I only tasted a mild shiitake flavor in the soup. A few minutes later, when the same waitress recited the specials to the next guests, we overheard her say shiitake soup, not chanterelles. She probably couldn’t correct herself after she saw our reaction to the mere mention of chanterelles, but I wouldn’t have ordered a $10 bowl if she had.

      The frisée salad with poached egg fared much better and so did the cumin-crusted lamb chops and the seafood paella. Those three dishes made me less sour; a bottle of 2005 Fiddlehead Pinot Noir also helped put me in a better mood. I realized later that getting produce to that part of the coast was difficult and that alone added to the price of the food, but there’s no reason to break a girl’s heart by mistaking chanterelles from shiitake.

      Helmuth Deetjen (pronounced dāt′yĕn), a Norwegian who settled in Big Sur before it became the hot spot of Old Hollywood trysts for its seclusion and privacy, bought several acres of land in Castro Canyon with his wife Helen in the 1930s. The couple welcomed intrepid travelers to their barn and built more rooms as the years passed. After their deaths, the Inn was added on the National Register of Historic Places by the U.S. Department of the Interior, and today is operated on a non-profit basis by the Deetjens Big Sur Inn Preservation Foundation.

      Deetjens Big Sur Inn is located on the Big Sur Coast of California, between San Luis Obispo and Monterey, off of Highway 1 and just 30 miles south of Carmel. It’s 300 miles north of Los Angeles and 150 miles south of San Francisco. The sign in front of Deetjens reads Big Sur Inn.

      Related post/s:
      Deetjens Big Sur Inn photos on Flickr
      I’ve had my share of waitresses mixing up to-ma-to from too-may-toe
      Also our share of driving windy roads when traveling for food

    • Carrot Top Soup

      The last bunch of carrots I bought from the market came with very fresh tops. Usually, they’re too wet and limp from over-spritzing, but this time I couldn’t just chop and throw them away.

      I remember a time when I was growing up in Manila and cooking. My Uncle Tony was quietly watching me slice some tomatoes. I sliced off the top, where the stem was, and then the bottom and discarded those parts. He asked me if they had gone bad and I said no. Why did you throw them out then? he retorted. Why did I throw them out? I think just because they were “ends”. From that day on, I have used an entire tomato as long as no part of it was too bruised to eat. I also string fresh beans diligently to avoid just chopping off the ends and wasting some flesh and I roast Brussels sprouts whole to keep all the leaves intact, leaving guests to remove the hard ends themselves while eating.

      Eat the tops with the carrot and you won’t just get your dose of beta carotene: carrot tops are a great source of chlorophyll that contain cleansing properties to purify the blood, lymph nodes and adrenal glands and in turn clear tumors from our bodies. See? There was always a good reason why Bugs Bunny ate the entire thing.

      Ingredients:
      1 bunch of carrots, including the green tops, chopped
      1/2 cup cooked rice
      3 cups chicken stock or vegetable stock
      a few sprigs of thyme
      1 small red onion, chopped
      2 garlic cloves, crushed
      oil, salt, pepper

      1. In a small saucepan, heat some oil and sauté garlic until brown and onions until soft. Add the carrots and cook for about 5 minutes. Add the carrot tops with the thyme and cook until tops are wilted. Season with salt and pepper.
      2. Add stock and let simmer, halfway covered, for up to 20 minutes or until carrots are tender. During the last 3 minutes, stir in cooked rice. Adjust taste with a few more sprinkles of salt and pepper.

      Related posts/s:
      After roasting red beets, feel free to include the bitter greens to your salad
      In Reykjavik, Iceland, we ate radish greens with our minke whale carpaccio