Major Letdown

It's sad to go back to regular assembly-line pizza so soon after being treated to Margy's incredible homemade version, but grabbing a pie when you're pressed for time is the ultimate in convenience -- and one of the only relatively safe bets in a town of few decent take-out choices. Tonight it was gobble, gobble, then I was off to witness the dazzling guitar heroics of Jeff Beck live in concert. Margy opted out of the guitar-heroics part.

Tastes of Summer

Margy and I checked our crave-o-meters, and for some reason only a steak would do.

I didn't spend $26 or anything, but I did find a nice rib eye. When it came off the grill to rest for a few minutes, I brushed two rolls with olive oil and melted butter and grilled them as an accompaniment. Then I topped the sliced rib eye with tomatoes from our garden that I'd roasted with garlic and thyme (a nifty condiment that pretty much goes well with anything). The whole thing could have easily been eaten as a sandwich, but we went with the knife-and-fork method.

At the farmers' market yesterday it was clear that it's now or never as far as corn is concerned. It was a bad year for corn all around, so by mid-September the tables were stacked with skinny little ears, which had all been picked over and partially shucked. But we found a few decent ones, and it was still summer for at least another night.

Celery Soup, It Ain't

Margy and I were at Juilliard to see a theater workshop directed by our friend Essho, and after the show we were starving and there was no time to waste. We passed a few anonymous-looking pizzerias and Mexican joints, and then across the street we saw a Chinese noodle shop, Bos.

There was a recent Time Out endorsement hanging in the window, and we walked in, sat down, and ordered some shrimp toast and a couple bowls of noodles. The shrimp toast was excellent, but the noodles were a bit of a letdown. The noodles themselves were al dente, but the broth was bland and the pork was chewy. I ate enough to satisfy my hunger, but on those few occasions when I'm not excited by my meal it's hard for me to go the distance. I was mortified when the waiter came by and with a puzzled look asked us, "You're done?" I hate not pulling my weight. But one thing I cannot do is force myself to eat when my heart's no longer in it.

The bygone Cafe Le Wok on 35th made a much better noodle soup, and they never got attention from any local magazines. What a shame -- if they had, the place might still be there today.

We Can Always Count on Keema

I was about to go play a gig, and I didn't feel like cooking. But our local take-out options are so flimsy that I was forced into duty.

I went with trusty turkey keema, tonight served in tortillas, with thick and tangy tamarind sauce.

Cel-Ray

I bought a bunch of celery at the farmers' market on Sunday, to use when I boiled the chicken. And when I say a bunch, I mean a bunch.

It was organic, and for, I think, $3.50 (easily the most I've paid for celery) I got a lot of it. I tried using as much as I could at every opportunity, but the thing wouldn't dwindle. And it was unlike any other celery I've seen -- the stalks were really thin, very dark, and superdense. It was impossible to crunch on a raw piece without chewing for five minutes afterward. Not only that, but the base of the bunch was caked with dirt and mud... and pretty well crawling with insects. A beetle sauntered out onto my kitchen table as I pulled away a few stalks, and later I found a slug, alive and well and, presumably, well fed.

But oh, the flavor of this celery!

When I told Enzo about the giant green tree that was taking over our fridge, he suggested I use any leftovers to make soup. And so, after scrub, scrub, scrubbing the hell out of each and every little piece with a stiff brush -- Margy doesn't like slugs in her soup -- I boiled the celery in chicken stock along with carrot and onion, and later I added some celery root and a potato. Once the celery became tender (which took a long time), I poured everything into a blender and pureed it. Exciting things were starting to happen.

But... the stuff was way too fibrous, so Margy got out her Foley food mill, and we passed the soup through it to smooth out the texture. This took some time, but it needed to happen. And I had planned to add some cream to the final product, but the soup was so lush and rich that I didn't bother. It was like having all the savory flavor of celery concentrated into something far more satisfying and substantial than celery itself.

Next stop, cauliflower.

Catch-All Gemelli

A few days ago, the fridge was jam-packed. A tray of pizza balanced precariously atop milk and water jugs, and there was hardly a free spot for a container of blueberries. Now, however, after Margy and I had systematically worked our way through the bulk of our holiday-weekend goodies, it was time to clean house for real and prepare ourselves for yet another trip to the supermarket.

Nothing is a better vehicle than a pasta dish for synthesizing all the odds and ends into something delicious.

So into the pan went the leftover pizza toppings -- pancetta, sautéed mushrooms, mozzarella. Actually, I stirred the mozz into the hot pasta just before serving, but you get the idea. I basically just emptied all our half-full plastic containers, added a few ripe cherry tomatoes, cooked some gemelli, and dinner was served.

I can't believe it's already time to go shopping again.

Leftover Pizza

Margy is a magician. Hers is not normal pizza.

The Fruit That Goes Its Own Way

I have lots of respect for avocados. For days they play hard-to-get, biding their time, remaining green on the outside, making us want to eat them but telling us we don't have permission. Then one day they're ready to give it up. They darken markedly; we poke them a little and they say, "Yes, NOW." If we don't obey soon enough, it's too late, and we know it.

That's why I found myself serving guacamole along with meat loaf sandwiches. I didn't know if I should, but I knew that if I didn't I ran the risk of letting the avocados that I had watched for days fall to ruin.

Well, guess what? It was a nice combo! I even spread the guac right on the sandwich a bit at a time, and its creaminess helped make it a fine condiment indeed. I don't mind a bit that I had to adhere to the avocados' schedule -- they kept me on my toes.

Chicken Bath

I'm pleased to relate that one of the easiest possible dinners is also among the most satisfying.

After making those grand pizza gestures yesterday, not to mention eating heroic quantities of food, we needed something simple. So, inspired as usual by my mother's meals, I threw a chicken in a pot with some vegetables, covered it with water by a few inches, tossed in a few potatoes after the bird had simmered for about an hour, and then another hour later we had a light and tasty meal that would yield both leftover chicken and a few quarts of ready-made stock for the freezer. Besides occasional stirring and salting and tasting, the work was done in five minutes.

Margy Labors on Labor Day Weekend

If there's one kind of grueling work that really pays off, it's pizza making. And Margy, it must be said, is becoming the master.

While we usually schedule pizza in advance and give ourselves something to look forward to -- or in my case, to obsess about -- today it was a late-breaking inspiration. Suddenly energized by our plan, we ran to the market to grab some fresh mozzarella and some San Marzano tomatoes, and we summoned our pal Yoz to come share the wealth.

While Margy made the dough and the San Marzano sauce, I worked on prepping the toppings. I sliced pancetta, sautéed mushrooms, and cooked spinach and garlic, and of course I halved a bunch of our homegrown cherry tomatoes. I couldn't contain my excitement over the idea of matching Margy's pizza with our flavorful little tomatoes.

It's wild how the crust always turns out a little different, probably owing to the weather and perhaps some more subtle factors, like water salinity and Margy's relaxation versus agitation levels as she kneads the dough. She claims I say this every time, but tonight might have been her best pizza ever. Yoz said it was the best pizza he'd ever had, and he later commented -- before the ice cream cone -- that he usually doesn't eat that much in three days. Attaboy. He will be invited back, perhaps even with an open invitation, regardless of whether his presence means fewer leftovers for Margy and me.

And the cherry tomatoes made one hell of an addition to pizza night. I scattered them on a white pie, along with olive oil, anchovies, chilies, mozzarella, and Parmesan. I sprinkled a few flakes of sea salt on the finished pizza to bring out the flavor a little more. Yup, best ever.

Sungolds and Cherries Everywhere

The tomatoes keep coming, and I'll keep using them on pasta until the first frost.

Tonight I made linguine with shrimp and clams, and, as always, tossed in a bunch of halved tomatoes right at the end. Seafood pasta is one of Margy's favorites, and she was glad I made enough for her to have some for lunch in a day or two.

I'm trying to block out the fact that summer is almost over. It's been such a treat to have instant access to these tomatoes, not to mention to lots and lots of herbs, plus cucumbers and the occasional long bean. I keep fantasizing about moving someplace where we can keep a garden growing year round.

Now Featuring Pork!

"I made something the other day that you have to try," my mom said, and she went on to describe what sounded like the ultimate meat loaf -- ground pork seasoned with ground porcini mushrooms, shaped into a log, and covered with slices of pancetta.

I didn't waste much time before I tried it myself, as I'm always looking for a reason to cover things with pancetta. Of course, I forgot to buy the mushrooms, so I doubt I achieved the same depth of flavor, but this was still pretty much my favorite meat loaf ever.

I should say that I'm not really such a big meat loaf fan, though I like it okay. (I think part of it is the name. Meat. Loaf. I dunno -- it just doesn't sound delicious. Too bad ambrosia is already taken.) But swapping the beef for pork and adding pancetta goes a long way in my book, and it really did the trick here. The loaf, which included bread, Parmesan, garlic, onion, and parsley, like a regular beef version, was moist and juicy, and the pancetta crisped up nicely on the outside. Like my mom noted, pancetta's flavor is a little mellower than bacon's, so it didn't overpower everything else. I can't wait to find out what the mushrooms bring to the table.

Seaside Sandwich

I can now wholeheartedly recommend eating a meatball sub while sitting near the ocean, though you might have to be careful to make sure the thing doesn't blow away.

The Clock Is Ticking

Since I'm at home and Margy commutes to an office, I try my best to have a handle on dinner by the time she gets home.

Not tonight.

Not only was I running late in my attempts to prepare a pretty time-consuming dish for a weeknight, but I also had a last-minute handicap, thanks to ShopRite: I was dealing with almost two pounds of improperly cleaned squid.

ShopRite is my squid destination, and this marks the second time in a week I've had a problem. Well, the first time wasn't really a problem per se -- they were just out of the stuff, and I respect that. But tonight I had to spend valuable time slicing the eyes from the tentacles and pulling the quills out of some of the bodies. All the while I'm thinking, Who the hell did this job, a kid off the street? Clearly the person had never handled squid in his or her life, and I was paying for it, literally and figuratively.

So Margy basically walks in to find a mess. No intoxicating cooking aromas, just me, elbow deep in a pile of squid and in a foul mood. I poured a glass of wine down her throat to help buy me some time.

For her part, she was an angel. She could sense how stressed I was, and so, as hungry as she was rapidly becoming, she never really let on. We cleaned up and did all the dishes while the squid, which by now I had stuffed, was simmering away on the stove. For my part, I rushed things a little, turning off the heat well before I would have preferred.

That meant the squid was a little tough, but it was by no means a disaster. And I'm still excited enough about these wonderful cherry tomatoes we're growing that their presence in my squid stew was enough to keep me from the dark side. They went in whole, just a few minutes before serving, and once again they were like little bombs of flavor, exploding with the sweet and tangy essence of tomato.

Whole Hog

I had a gig in the meatpacking district, and Margy met me after work for a little pregame BBQ at the Hog Pit.

Ah, the Hog Pit. The warm, almost melting cheese biscuits started us off right. We tried to resist eating them all before our entrees arrived, but we mostly failed.

I had a rack of pork ribs with panfried corn and cabbage with bacon. (Call that a piggy exacta.) Margy had a pulled pork sandwich with black-eyed peas and mac and cheese. Somehow I ate all my ribs, but Margy, even after working pretty hard, had enough meat left over to essentially make another pulled pork sandwich.

Ah, the Hog Pit.

My New Favorite Mexican Restaurant

Tonight I realized my dream of eating a nice dinner in an NYC bodega.

I had read about little Mexican grocers and delis that have a tiny kitchen in the back, but I had never been to one. Indeed, this place, a hole in the wall on 10th Avenue, was exactly that -- shelves of canned goods and fridges full of beer and soda in the front, then in the rear about eight or ten stools and a little window leading to a kitchen. Stevesie brought us there -- me, Macca, and Looch, on our way to take a rock and roll cruise around Manhattan -- and he did the honors of asking, in Spanish, if it was okay to drink beer with our tacos. It was.

The tacos were two bucks apiece. I had one with roast pork and one with chorizo and potato, and both were delicious. Macca and Looch found that two between the two of them wasn't quite enough, so Looch went to the counter for a second course and designed her own creation, which she had to repeat a couple times to the woman taking her order. Potato and jalapeño taco, she said, and that's what she got. "I think this is the hottest thing I've ever eaten," she wheezed, as her ears turned red and her eyes began to fog over. I'll try one of those next time.

Boil and Eat

When we got back from our shower jaunt, we were looking to have the simplest possible dinner. Luckily, a few weeks ago one of my mom's English-as-a-second-language students had dropped off two bags of frozen homemade Chinese dumplings, one for my sister and one for us. Mom's student had heard my sis was a big dumpling fan, so the larger bag was for her. But when sis rolled through town from Vermont and stopped by for her stash, she took one look at the enormous supply intended for her and said, "I'm taking the small bag."

Showered with Shrimp

Margy had to head south a bit for her sister's baby shower, and I tagged along to hang with the fellas.

It was a good time. I got to hear funny anecdotes about topics I don't often contemplate, like golf and shotguns, and then the menfolk reconnected with the ladies in the name of hauling all the gifts into the minivan. It was all very traditional and domestic, and doing a little bonding with Margy's family was a nice way to spend the day.

For dinner we headed to the home of Margy's other sister, the nonpregnant one (who's spent plenty of time with child in her day; she has three kids). We drank tasty white wine and munched pretzels with an amazing wasabi mustard, and then we had grilled shrimp.

Margy's brother-in-law made the shrimp, and they were delicious. He marinated them in, I believe, soy sauce and rice vinegar, adding a good shot of chili sauce, and then skewered them with pineapple and zucchini. I chatted with him while he did the grilling. A while into the process, as I stood in the kitchen and watched smoke billow up from under the closed grill lid outside, I was worried that the shrimp would overcook, but since I use charcoal it's easy for me to forget that a gas grill can take a little longer. As it turned out, everything was cooked perfectly -- the shrimp had some char, the zucchini were tender, and the pineapple was still firm. To make things even more outstanding, Margy's sis put out a big bowl of cheesy grits that she made in the rice cooker that we gave her last Christmas. I had thirds on those.

They Never Run Out of Pork

I went to ShopRite thinking Thai squid stir-fry.

Alas, no squid to be found. The seafood guy told me to check the freezer case, saying sometimes when they run out of squid behind the counter they'll grab a box of frozen squid and put it out and no one knows the difference. I almost caved, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I figured if I were throwing a bit of squid into a dish along with other stuff, it might be okay just this once, but I had planned a squidcentric dinner, so I'd just have to move on.

Sticking with the general strategy, I bought a few boneless pork chops. I sliced them into strips and stir-fried those. I basically made a Thai-style curry without the coconut milk... and without a few other admittedly important items that I didn't have, like lemongrass. But still, grinding up a paste of chilies, cilantro, garlic, ginger, shrimp paste, and spices got me almost all the way there, and as long as we weren't expecting absolute authenticity (as if), all would be well.

My tasting panel -- Margy -- passed me with flying colors. She appreciates a good shot of heat, and this dish had it. Plus we tend to like anything that gives us a reason to snip some little purple-green Thai basil leaves off the plant we've been tending to so lovingly all summer.

Backup Plan

We had nothing in the fridge, and I just didn't feel like going to the store.