Writing With My Mouth Full

Very Garlicky and Very Shrimpy Pasta

They key to this dish wasn’t as much as the garlic as it was the shrimp flavor from the head and the shells. I spent some time shelling and deveining a pound of shrimps, and my arm hurt from pressing them to get the juice out, but all the work was worth it. I used rigatoni pasta but they turned out to be too big for the small pieces of shrimps. When you try this, use penne instead. You can also substitute the vermouth with white wine. I just didn’t want to waste a perfectly good and pricey Chateauneuf-du-Pape white–we needed another bottle of it after this very garlicky and very shrimpy pasta was done.

Ingredients:
1 pound large shrimps, peeled, deveined, tails removed, cut into 3 pieces; heads, tails and shells reserved
1 medium-sized head of garlic, peeled, smashed, sliced
1 box of penne, cooked al dente, saving some of the pasta water
1 can of clam juice
1/2 cup dry vermouth
2 tsps flour
half a bunch of parsley, finely chopped
a small knob of butter
lemon wedges, plus some of its juice
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
oil, salt

1. Marinate shrimps. In a large glass bowl, combine shrimp meat and a third of the garlic with some olive oil and a dash of salt. Set aside while you do steps 2 and 3.
2. In a large skillet, heat some oil. Add another third of the garlic with the shrimp heads, tails and shells. Cook and toss until garlic is light brown, about 8 minutes. Add clam juice and vermouth and let it simmer. Using the back of a large spoon, smash the heads so that the fat comes out.
3. When half of the liquid has evaporated, turn off the heat and remove the garlic and shells using a slotted spoon and transfer to a mortar and pestle in batches. Save the liquid from the skillet and transfer to another large bowl. Continue to get the remaining juice out of the heads and shells by pounding them with the pestle and transferring the juice back to the bowl. Discard shells when done.
4. Turn the heat back on and add a little oil. Sauté the remaining garlic. Add the shrimp-flavored liquid and let it simmer until somewhat reduced. Then add the marinated shrimp and toss for about 2 minutes. Drop in the butter, flour and red pepper flakes and mix until butter is melted. Add salt and lemon juice to taste. Add pasta. If it gets too thick, add a drop or two of the pasta water. Turn off the heat and mix in the parsley.

Freemans

End of Freeman Alley, off Rivington Street between the Bowery and Chrystie Street
212/420.0012
about $80 for two, with drinks, with tip
â™¥

Package something well and watch the people come. This seems to be Freemans’ motto and it works. First, the location that still confuses people who do not hang-out in the area: where the hell is Freeman Alley? It’s a nook off Rivington, right before you hit Chrystie if you’re coming from the west. Then there’s the design of the space: modeled after a country lodge, there are stuffed birds behind the newer bar inside. I never thought of having my own deer antlers in my apartment until I first stepped into Freeman’s a couple of years ago.

The owners, William Tigertt and Taavo Somer, know that New Yorkers love being a part of something cool. From secret entrances that Angel’s Share made hip more than ten years ago, to douchebars blocked by big, burly men, we all like to brag that we got in before anyone else. In Freemans nowadays, you can count how many guys with facial hair are wearing fedoras and sweater vests under their blazers. After a while, everyone just looks the same.

What doesn’t change, though, is the length of wait and the service. I have spent an hour at the bar drinking with my friend waiting to be seated. I have also stood at the bar waiting to be seated at the bar. (Freemans only takes reservations for groups larger than six.) The other patrons can get testy and who can blame them when people hover, waiting to grab their seat? I have seen this happen where angry words were exchanged between hungry guests. The exhausted maitre d’ also gets impatient. God forbid, you ask how much longer you have to wait.

As soon as you’re seated, you just want to eat. There was an Estonian empanada our waiter couldn’t describe. I think the cook’s mom is from Estonia, he simply said, before he walked away to mind the three other tables next to us. When he finally returned, he took our orders down and we waited another thirty minutes before everything was served all at once. We were eating our artichoke dip with our fennel salad and our main course of roasted cod. We never heard from him again until we waved to get our checks. Good thing I’ve had enough Rum Swizzles to numb the painful experience of trying to be hip.

Curry With Fruits

I love the flavor of curry. If I can roll over curry powder, I would. I love putting together different spices and making a definition of an entire cuisine with them. This recipe is from StÃ©phane Reynaud’s Pork & Sons, the same book that brought pig’s ears and trotters in my kitchen. I’m actually quite surprised that my infatuation with this book has lasted this long. This recipe intrigued me because of its use of fruits.

Ingredients:
1 pound Boston butt, cut into cubes
2 bananas, cut into chunks before adding to the dish
1 tart apple, peeled and sliced before adding to the dish
1 cup of preserved pineapple chunks, drained
1 cup coconut milk
1 cup white wine
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup almonds, shelled
1 onion, sliced
2 tbsps curry powder
1 tsp ground coriander
1 bunch of cilantro, roughly chopped
oil

1. Heat the olive oil in a large Dutch oven. Add the pork and onions and cook in medium heat, stirring frequently until the pork is evenly browned, about 10 minutes. Add the curry powder and coriander and continue to stir for 2 more minutes.
2. Stir in the white wine, scraping up the sediments from the bottom of the pot. Bring to a boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for 45 minutes.
3. Stir in the cream and cook for 15 minutes until reduced. Add half of the coconut milk and simmer for another 15. Add the fruits and the almonds and simmer for 5 more. Swirl in the remaining coconut milk and sprinkle with cilantro before serving.

Pressed Pesto and Gruyere-Parmesan Sandwich

Today is the official first day of spring and I’m in a good mood. The change of seasons make me look forward to what’s ahead and allow me to start afresh. Forget the last three months of gloominess and cold weather; it’s spring! It’s the same warm and fuzzy feeling I get when I know I’ve made something awesome with my own hands. When I tried the first sandwich from this recipe, I couldn’t help but go, Mmmmm. Making several more didn’t take a lot of extra time; all I had to do was pick up the ingredients from Trader Joe’s in one trip. The pesto gave this sandwich a nice kick while the scant sweet taste of the slow-cooked ham anchored down the two strong cheeses. Served pressed and warm and then cut in half to make the melted cheeses stringy, this sandwich made me proud.

Ingredients:
pesto
Gruyere cheese, sliced
Parmesan cheese, sliced
slow-cooked ham
sourdough bread
a knob of unsalted butter, softened in microwave for 15 seconds

1. Spread one side of each bread slice evenly with some butter. Spread the unbuttered slice with a spoonful of the pesto and top with a slice of Gruyere. Add ham and then top with the Parmesan. Cover with the remaining slice, buttered side up.
2. Place large skillet over high heat and melt a small knob of butter. Reduce heat to low and add sandwiches. Using an iron grill press, put on top of the sandwiches and press. Cook until browned and crisp on both sides, about 2 minutes a side. Transfer to a platter lined with paper towels. Cut in half and serve.

Crave Ceviche Bar

946 2nd Avenue between 50th and 51st Streets
212/355.6565
about $120 for two, with five drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

Depending on whom you ask, ceviche may have originated from Peru or Ecuador. Wherever your allegiance lies, it’s seafood marinated in a citrus-based concoction to “cook” the meat without heat. Crave Ceviche Bar doesn’t want you to forget what they’re trying to serve you–everything is creatively “ceviche’d”. I had fun determining which taste originated from where.

The Kona Kampachi, my new favorite fish from Hawaii, was marinated in pressed lemons and tomato paste. The chorizo happily melded with the natural sweetness of the kampachi. The puré of artichokes and red peppers balanced everything out. Spain, right?

I loved the salmon tartare in yuzu and huckleberry. A mess of galangal, capers and white truffle essence may sound confusing but for some reason works here. I couldn’t miss its Asian-flavor galore. Throw in the oven-roasted tomatoes and cauliflowers and you have yourself some old Italian influence. We enjoyed the black cod sashimi with roasted beets and crispy latke ceviche’d in apple cider vinegar and yellow bean apple purée. It could be your next Hanukkah special! I found the spicy yellow fin tuna the most simple, but at least the yuca made it somewhat exciting.

In a more hushed setting, restaurants like Le Bernardin have thrived in the New York City scene for years. Maybe it is Eric Ripert’s footsteps that Crave Ceviche Bar is following. They have a raw section on the menu, as well as “cured but cooked” and also traditional dishes using shrimps, lamb loin and Peking duck in the same vein that their midtown counterpart has “almost raw”, “barely touched” and “lightly cooked” selections.

Each dish will set you back at least $14 with the most expensive topping at $28. Add the cocktails the cute bartender mixes behind their newly-licensed bar and you’re looking for a $120 bill for two. After a couple of hours, we were tipsy and out of cash but still hungry. I can’t explain how we ended up at a Japanese bar for a pitcher of Sapporo draft and a big bowl of pork belly soup afterwards, but Crave Ceviche Bar definitely made us crave some more.