Writing With My Mouth Full

Red Rooster

310 Lenox Avenue between 125th and 126th Streets
212/792.9001
$86 for three, without drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

I’m very familiar with the Harlem Sunday brunch crowd. I’ve biked enough past the Baptist churches on Adam Clayton and Lenox Avenues to know that after service, large crowds gather at the nearby bakery or join the street barbecue line if it’s warm out. What I didn’t expect to see at Red Rooster was a colorful one–and I liked it. Seven years living in Harlem, I’ve witnessed the neighborhood change: beautiful brownstones getting gutted out and renovated, new apartments higher than six floors getting built in less than two years, Starbucks opening to serve $5 coffees. I’ve taken advantage of the gentrification, as most of you know, buying into one of the developments and enjoying decent brews with my bike safely chained outside the bar. I’ve slowly tried the handful of restaurants that have popped up, but businesses have shared one thread that still need a vast improvement: the quality of service. Red Rooster is no exception.

We walked in Red Rooster and joined the crowd at the bar while two people sang gospel songs. The waiting time was half an hour to forty minutes, so we felt lucky that we got bar seats. Getting bloody marys poured out of a plastic jug and a glass of a simply-mixed mimosa was another story–the two bartenders at the front seemed like they needed another pair of, maybe six more, hands to churn out the drinks being ordered. The bloody marys weren’t even worth waiting for.

The service didn’t change when we were finally shown our table. We must have been visited by at least five different servers, but none of them were quick enough at their feet to get our water glasses and coffee refilled, replace our butter spreaders with steak knives or place the correct plates in front of the person who ordered them. It seemed like the staff was overwhelmed, but there was constant traffic between tables and the service room that I wondered where they were all walking to.

Thankfully, chef Marcus Samuelsson hasn’t lost the talent that he’s honed during all his years at Aquavit. I’m not sure how many of the Top Chef audience even know that he has been around before they started blogging, but for a chef who’s been in the industry before all this foodie fuckfest, I’m also surprised that he’s gone uptown to start anew. He has adopted the Web and he has been parading himself on TV; he is also very visible on the floor chatting up and photographing with business partners and customers. It’s like Marcus Samuelsson Part Two without the need to talk about his familial background. It’s all about the food now, and at Red Rooster, it’s pretty good. The nuggets and toast, or their take on fried chicken and waffles, was well-refined and filling. The fried chicken nuggets were crispy and matched the sweetness of the toast slathered in maple syrup. I wasn’t a big fan of the baked eggs because they were just overcooked, but the mac and cheese using orecchiette with bitter greens made up for them. The five-ounce fillet steak was perfectly cooked and the sweet potato bits were a nice surprise with the French fries. The corn bread is the best I’ve tasted in a while, served with honey butter and tomato jam. The coffee, especially if served black, was so good that I didn’t mind not finishing my weak bloody mary; it will be marketed as Samuelsson’s own come next season. If I can’t get to Egg in Brooklyn often, Red Rooster will just have to do.

Chef Samuelsson’s baby is quite new, so I plan to make a return visit another Sunday to check on the service. I hope it improves and I hope they can deal with the crowd a little bit better next time because the food alone doesn’t carry an entire restaurant, nor can a famous chef.

ilili

236 Fifth Avenue between 27th and 28th Streets
212/683.2929
around $125 for 4, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

After thirteen days eating fresh seafood and vegetables in Dominica for both lunch and dinner, all I wanted to eat upon returning to New York was a bloody steak. It was godsend that Miriam was still in the city the morning my stomach started asking for red meat and I was glad to meet up with her at ilili before she had to go back to London.

ilili, a spacious restaurant specializing in Lebanese, Turkish and Mediterranean dishes, looks like a hotel restaurant and is apparently a party scene at night. When we stopped by for lunch though, the place was quite serene with only the soft buzz of quiet business meetings. It was, of course, the Monday after the blizzard, but I thought New Yorkers will be back on their feet eating after the New Year holiday. I was okay that most people stayed in.

The restaurant’s $20 lunch prix fixe is one of the best deals in the city and includes a main dish and a side. I was set to order their lamb burger until our waiter announced that the day’s special was lamb porterhouse with stuffed eggplants. It sounded too heavy for lunch, but it was hard to say no after Miriam promised that I may have a bite of her burger.

Their grape leaves were just what I needed to start–that Mediterranean taste was the only thing missing in the Caribbean and it was like something new in my mouth. The shared plate of warm pita bread and hummus sealed the deal for me. Miriam’s lamb burger was perfectly cooked and made light by the spicy arugula leaves. The fries were to die for, thick slivers but light and crunchy. The porterhouse was perfectly seasoned with a pistachio crumb on top. The stuffed eggplant was pillowy and bursted with harissa after each bite. They reminded me so much of the vegetables I ate in Tunisia and brought back so many good travel memories.

I guessed that the pistachio ice cream included either lavender or rose water since it gave me that soapy aftertaste, but otherwise creamy and tasty. It may have not been as creamy as their clotted cream in simple syrup with bananas, but what more can you ask for when all you originally wanted was red meat? I can’t wait to return for dinner.

Related post/s:
Tunisia road trip travel journal

Smoked Fish Salad with Golden Beets, Fennel and Mache

A week after visiting San Francisco and sitting at the bar of Bar Jules in the Hayes Valley, I was inspired to recreate a salad I had ordered that used smoked fish. After making it, I looked through my photos from that trip and realized that I put two salads in one.

This is a great salad to prep for because you can roast a lot of beets and just use three for this salad that could serve two and use the rest of them for another dish. The smallest chunk of smoked fish you can get will most likely be still too much, so you can use the leftover somewhere else as well. And the fennel? Who doesn’t like the crunch and freshness of fennel in all their salads? Don’t feel like you have to use mâche–lamb’s tongue at some stores–either; arugula or spinach will do just fine.

At Bar Jules for Sunday brunch, I ordered two things: a salad of arugula with fennel, Mandarin oranges and faro, plus smoked trout with golden beets. Both dishes obviously made an impression so when buying the ingredients for my version, it had slipped my mind that they were two separate salads.

No matter though because it became one of the best salads I’ve churned out of my kitchen. Ever.

Ingredients:
3 golden beets, roasted, peeled, chopped
a small block of smoked white fish
1/4 bulb of fennel, thinly sliced
a handful of mâche greens, some separated by hand
olive oil
pepper
juice from a fresh lemon
fennel fronds

1. Wrap golden beets in aluminum foil and roast in the oven for 45 minutes or until tender. When cool enough to handle, peel with your hands. Chop into small wedges.
2. In the meantime, gently separate the smoked fish meat from its bones using your hands. Set aside the smaller pieces from the larger ones.
3. In a large salad bowl, toss beets, fennel, mâche plus the smaller pieces of fish with olive oil and pepper to combine.
3. Squeeze some lemon juice all over the salad. Divide salad onto serving plates and top each with the larger pieces of the leftover smoked fish and fennel fronds. Drizzle with more olive oil for extra sheen.

Day 3 in Dominica: Valley of Desolation and Boiling Lake

I woke up extra early today to have coffee and fresh fruits at the restaurant before an ungodly start of 7:30am to our Valley of Desolation and Boiling Lake hike. Because most of the guests signed up to hike, yoga was cancelled.

I had asked Joanne in the kitchen last night to boil two eggs for me in the morning. Joanne being Joanne asked her staff to cook three for me. I ate two with my breakfast and packed the third with the lunch we signed up for: an assortment of peanut butter and jelly, cheese and tuna-cucumber sandwiches. We each asked for three sandwiches apiece with their homemade granola bars; we had no idea the 8-hour hike was going to make us more hungry than usual. By mid-day, we were exchanging sandwiches; begging for someone else’s PB&J and trading in granola bars.

The long drive through Dominica’s curvy road made me queasy so I was glad that we immediately started our hike from the parking lot when we arrived at 9:30am. I began to appreciate Jungle Bay’s early start to our days. We always arrived at popular hikes before anyone else, which made it seem like we were the only ones in the paths except for the occasional Germans who were stereotypically super fit and seemed to always be in a race for gold.

We trekked through the rain forest during the first two hours of our hike. Its lush surroundings reminded me of my first day in Kilimanjaro. Moss and vines hung from giant Banyan trees; wide elephant ear leaves and palm fronds formed canopies that barely let the sunlight in. Most of the path was muddy and quite slippery because of the constant moisture, so a lot of time and care were taken while we walked. We reached a flat top by lunch time. The view from high up was pretty unreal. It was drizzling a tiny bit but it was a welcomed respite from the forest’s humidity.

We could see the canyon which reminded me of Kauai’s Waimea. The earth was so red, a perfect contrast against all the greenery.

We stepped on steep steps made of bamboo logs down to the Valley of Desolation where we crossed over steaming streams that smelled like sulphur, hopped on iron-dotted red rocks and held on to slimy boulders for support. Whenever we came across running water, we gloriously refilled our drinking bottles.

When we finally made it to the Boiling Lake, Iceland came to mind. In the middle of the lake, vigorously boiling water proved that the volcano was still very active. There was a small waterfall on the side that just made the place surreal. Our group took another break while we ate our remaining sandwiches–I finally got to eat my boiled egg.

I was amazed at how one country would bring to mind my past three travels. Dominica has so much to offer and I wondered how it’s still under most people’s radar.

On our hike back, I remembered the small pool of water during one of our crossings. Sam had told me the night before that we could take a quick dip if we had time, and since I was hiking ahead with the three youngest participants of our group, we undressed to reveal our swimsuits underneath and jumped in. The rest of our group joined us a few minutes later and we all took turns under the small waterfall. We passed by a hot spring next, and feeling refreshed from our first swim, we all undressed again and slithered in. The hot water from the volcano was therapeutic but I much preferred the cold shocking water because I was hot during most of the hike. Our guide, Carlos, couldn’t really stop the adults-turned-children from making the unscheduled stops. We all knew we still had hours to go and that we had to be at the parking lot before it got dark, but we were all just having too good of a time not to jump in every pool of water we came across.

My massage appointment was moved since we were an hour late returning to Jungle Bay. I took a quick shower in my room before I subjected myself to an hour-long aromatherapy massage. My legs didn’t hurt after the hike, but my body certainly still appreciated the kneading.

I began to think that Christmas and my birthday won’t be so bad after all.

Day 2 in Dominica: Victoria Falls

I fell in-love in Dominica. With my mosquito net.

I woke up my second morning with my room bathed in morning sunlight and shadows on my bed created by my mosquito net. I quickly noted to myself to find a way to install one back in my New York City apartment.

After a morning shower with a brown grasshopper, I walked to the yoga room at 7:30am and wished that it was this easy to commit to morning stretches back in my real life. In the restaurant an hour later, I had breakfast of eggs, fresh papaya, watermelon and star apple. These papayas were so soft and fleshy; the watermelon juice dripped onto my shirt; the star apple was actually sweet instead of sour. I felt so short-changed all of a sudden because fruits do not taste the same way in New York. I walked up to my room for my second shower of the day before joining the Victoria Falls tour with Ade and a family from Chicago. Mister Grasshopper had left for the day.

Carlos, the guide who will become my favorite throughout my stay, hauled ass driving to the falls. It was a quick drive and a short hike through an even more lush forest with four river crossings. I didn’t wear my hiking boots this time. I followed Ade’s lead and went barefoot most of the time to negotiate the slippery rocks. I used my hands to grab on to tree roots to hoist myself up. My camera was in a Ziploc held between my teeth. Good thing too that I wore my surf shorts instead of a heavier pair of hiking shorts–the water was waist-deep in two of the crossings.

It was beautiful in the forest. The morning light kept seeping in through the thick canopy of greens. (Reader beware: I will be talking a lot about morning light in these posts.) It was the perfect setting for someone on hallucinogenics–or so I’ve heard–or Avatar Part Two. It was so green and alive that even the moss on boulders were as soft and bright green as the best AstroTurf. Trees covered the surrounding cliff. They seemed to occupy every vertical space possible. My camera–any camera–couldn’t do the scenery any justice.

The gushing water of Victoria Falls reminded us that there is something bigger than life. The water power was so thunderous, we kept screaming at each other about how incredible it was without hearing one another. I was just in awe.

I slipped once but thankfully landed on my ass on a round rock. I held on as the wind power from the cascade tried to blow me away. I could not even swim past the rocks’ edges. The water was cool and refreshing and provided respite from the humidity. I tried very hard to keep my bathing suit on while traipsing.

On our way back to our truck, Carlos cut and skinned a stalk of sugar cane and we passed the pieces around to suck off its sweet juice. I picked and smelled several leaves of fresh lemongrass, wild thyme and rosemary. I was thinking of roasted pork tenderloin and lamb chops, but happily settled for a lunch of fish curry roti back at Jungle Bay Resort with a couple of their homemade ginger-lime iced teas poolside. I read my book in between hot naps and cool swims. I had the pool and the afternoon to myself, but it felt like I had the whole world.

I showered back in my room, chilled on the hammock with my book until it was time to join Nancy, Jai and Ade for a power walk up Paix Bouche hill. Nancy has been doing the walk everyday since she moved to Dominica three years ago and the entire staff shook their heads at me when they found out Nancy had convinced me to join her. (I came to tease her for being the crazy white lady who walks everywhere after also hearing the story that she once walked to the town of Rosseau which took her four hours.) No one could tell me how long of a walk it was, but it was no joke: the hill went up a 35-degree angle. The roti in my stomach felt like extra weight I had to carry; my achilles were throbbing. The walk was good for my calves even though they cried for help during my Swedish massage afterward. I ended up walking the hill with Nancy nine more times during my stay at Jungle Bay and I appreciated that I my afternoons were spent getting to know her during those walks.

For my second dinner with Sam’s family, I had the traditional Dominican platter of shredded cod and dried herring with fried plantains. It was one of the best appetizers I’ve ever had–a combination of sweet and salty all on one plate. (I would end up ordering this every time it showed up on the menu.) I barely had room for the grilled kingfish and vegetable rice after the bowl of hot seafood chowder. I was impressed at what Joanne and her kitchen staff were cooking up in the kitchen. For the rest of the night, I forgot about tenderloins and lamb chops.

I will end up forgetting a lot of regular life during this Dominican trip.