valentines day

my valentine's day was spent loving myself, i guess. no, not THAT way. get your head out of the gutter. brunch at joseph leonard made me miss working in restaurants. there's something about the pace and energy in a well-run place. the owner handed a hostess $20 to run out and get more croissants. they were slammed sunday morning. were almost going through bloody mary mix faster than they could make it. from the west village i strolled to soho, sans ipod, and fell in love with the city all over again. you forget how much you lose by tuning out of the city's sounds and into your playlist. the artist talking about his inspiration to some passersby on west broadway. the bebop group on prince street across from j.crew. my favorite singapore importer has gorgeous cream frocks that i'll try to buy on sale. intermix, who no longer has the gorgeous suede brian atwood pumps now has sergio rossi peeptoe platform pumps but you'd be better off with the original YSL incarnation which would be 100% more comfortable and 60% more timeless. ginger citrus tea at balthazar. little pink hearts painted on the sidewalk on both sides of broadway between prince and spring, a small reminder that it was, indeed, valentine's day. decided to satisfy the craving for linguine with clams at esca, which boasts the most convivial bar in town. i've written about it before but things haven't changed an ounce. i was sat next to a longtime regular and friend of the chef. another regular, a 24 year old actress on the other side of him. they immediately started offering tastes of their food even though they didn't yet know my name. we were poured tastes of barolo as we chatted with the chef about where the best bbq in the city was (his answers were all places in kentucky and texas and states NOT new york). the florist came by and soon he was finishing off my pasta and trying my neighbors bay scallops. he returned with flowers (bunches of gorgeous calla lilies) for me and the actress. he does flowers at del posto too, so i had start raving about their lunch. the chef found out i was going to vancouver and gave me the name of someone to call to set me up at restaurants out there. she owns a fantastic cookbook store and knows EVERYONE in food worth knowing. and i have her number on speed dial. moscato d'asti was poured, an affogato ordered and hugs exchanged with friends new (me) and old, as we all departed.

 

i heart new york.

del posto lunch

you all know i'm an eleven madison park devotee. that my lunches there when i'm between cases and have the rare weekday off, are blissful. i knew 4 stars would change that. what i didn't predict was the fact that they'd stop participating in restaurant week. that, never again, would i get 3 courses for $24. EMP, i love you but you've priced me out. i can't afford your dinners and i found a much more satisfying place for lunch.

when i read this post, lunch at del posto jumped to the top of the list. AND, LO, IT WAS GOOD. i mean, HOLY HELL: YES.

service is beyond gracious. really proper without being stuffy. billie and ella and edith and nina played in the background. i had the bastianich sauv blanc because it was from friuli and i'm slightly obsessed with his tocai (or friuliano or whatever it's called now, available by the glass at esca! sit at the bar with victor!). my server (though i don't think they're called servers. maybe head waiters?), though not flirty, was italian so he pretty much oozed sexiness. it's the italian swagger and i love it. he greeted me with a hearty "buon giorno!" and recommended the duck. and then did NOT ask me come come out back and get naked but in my head, that's what ALL italian sounds like. it all sounds like, "let me make love to you, bellissima"

tre amuses and one hell of a bread basket served with both lardo and butter. lardo, for those uninitiated...think gourmet bacon fat. but bacon fat so good that you briefly think of eating it with a spoon. or bathing in it. but then you remember that 5 minutes ago someone came over with a brocade stool for your purse. a chair! for a purse! i mean, how silly! but also: fancy. which is what stops you from rubbing said lardo all over your face. 

i started with the roasted vegetables because i'm a sucker for robiola. and though you'd think i'd be truffled out, i am not. my favorite part was the slice of apple  (granny smith?) on the far side of my plate. i ordered the duck. OH MY GOD. it was gorgeous and so tender, the skin so crispy. it's the best dish i've had in a long time. (i mean, it might have been better than the ribeye from carnevino, incidentally another batali place that pam recommended, which cost an arm and a leg and was my birthday dinner out in vegas.) people, i seriously moaned every time i took a bite. it was transcendent. there are no words for this duck. i'm totally wasting my time trying to convey how incredibly awesome it was. if i could have sex with meat, i would screw the crap out of this duck. i would propose. i'd move into its brooklyn apartment even though i SWORE i would not leave the borough of manhattan.

mark ladner was in the house. and joe bastianich also arrived as dessert was delivered. i asked for a skim latte and was told "we do not use skim milk" which, you know what? that's fine by me because whole milk tastes so much better and i never order it because i've got some female guilt that i'm sure i got subconsciously from looking at skinny models on magazine covers in the grocery store checkout aisle. i respect a restaurant that full on refuses to give you something they know doesn't taste that great in favor of the stuff that tastes better, even if it may be fatty (mmmmmm.....lardo......)

dessert: CHESTNUT Cake Warm Plum Macedonia, Crushed Chestnuts & Yogurt Gelato. i liked dessert but i liked all my little amuse desserts better. i'm not a real sugar person anyhow so might have sweeted out with them prior to even dipping a fork in my cake. delivered on a cheese grater were a teeny tartufo on a stick, an eensy lemon tart, a baby beignet, a sliver of truffle and something else i can't remember. so twee and perfect. and they also brought over a glass of moscato, gratis. i love when restaurants do that. bring over a free glass of something to the nice lady who came in to eat all alone.

but people: the food was only $29. that is bonkers and, as seen with my dear EMP, who knows how long it'll last. so GO. NOW. ORDER THE DUCK. 

esca

went to esca last night. whenever i'm craving pasta, about once a month, i'll go and try to stake out a seat at the bar. the bar over there is like this top secret club. getting there and snagging a seat means that you're on a first name basis with the bartender who knows everyone else at the bar and will make introductions. (if i were the kind of person who could afford going there once a week, i would. the crudo is also lustworthy.) next thing you know, even though you may have thought you were going out to eat alone, you're now with a party of 4. you all share food. it is the most collegial thing i think i've ever been drawn into. the chef comes up, hangs out to chat. victor, the bartender, makes sure to introduce me. "jasmine, this is david pasternack, chef and part owner here." i shake hands, refrain from saying something embarassing like, "i know who you are! i've read about you! i like food!" i didn't even say, "you're david pasternack!" which is also something that may have slipped out had i not been as composed. or sober. and because the esca bar is a "zone of extra-friendliness" or something david says, "hey, i got a new pasta machine! come down and look at it!" my response, "are you serious?" "yeah! come on down!" and off he went. off my stool i hopped and followed him through the kitchen and down the stairs. past some trays of post dinner biscotti, past freezers containing trays of frozen pasta. he showed me the process, the part of the machine that broke and couldn't be replaced on his last machine (which is why he had to get a new one). he was a proud daddy standing over his bright, shiny hunk of stainless steel with polished bronze working bits. pretty damn neat. ALMOST makes up for missing the pork butt. almost. maybe.