nunu


where have bompas & parr been all my life?

Am embarrassed that I’m only just learning of Sam Bompas and Harry Parr via the New York Times, but I am quite certain we’re artistic soulmates. The artists make architectural jelly molds, host culinary events like a Peter Greenaway scratch n’ sniff cinema, made the dessert for a 100th anniversary celebration of the Marinetti’s Futurist Cookbook in New York and their latest later this month, Alcoholic Architecture, a “walk-in cloud of breathable cocktail.”

"Being in hospital over Christmas can be tough. The world’s most sophisticated dessert trolley provided patients with a diverting spectacle that touched their most sensitive organ – the belly. Liveried waiters in white tie served a huge gingerbread Gherkin (30 St Mary Axe – visible from the hospital), a mountain of jelly and instant dry-ice ice cream. The fine dining experience was heightened by a ballgowned harpist playing classical music on her vast instrument."

"The UK’s first Scratch ‘n’ Sniff Cinema showing Peter Greenaway’s classic, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover opened for Valentine’s Day this year. Bompas & Parr created aromas including ‘rotting meat’ and ‘dusty books’ that captured the scent of key moments of Greenaway’s film. These aromas were micro-encapsulated and printed onto special scratch ‘n’ sniff cards for everyone in the audience."

"The UK’s first Scratch ‘n’ Sniff Cinema showing Peter Greenaway’s classic, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover opened for Valentine’s Day this year. Bompas & Parr created aromas including ‘rotting meat’ and ‘dusty books’ that captured the scent of key moments of Greenaway’s film. These aromas were micro-encapsulated and printed onto special scratch ‘n’ sniff cards for everyone in the audience."

secret guacamole

I will not tell you the name of this place, because I can’t. It is the type of place a friend must take you to or you must stumble upon when exiting the train because you decide for once not to look down, but look up. The minute you walk in you enter a zone of dark wood and hushed tables and antiques from a South American farm and the warm owner leads you to a table in the back of the room with flourish, where the window peeks out into a garden that is only shadows, navy blue skies and outlines of bare winter trees. You don’t know where you are, but you are not in Brooklyn and it is not 2009, it is 1909. Continue reading ’secret guacamole’

it’s showtime, folks! (bye bye life)

The row is empty; it is still early. A guy with a headset, official badges and company-issue t-shirt sits alone in seat 13. I am seat 12. He has tattoo sleeves. Awkwardly, I sit down and start digging through my bag for my pen, pad and camera. The usual settling in. The tent is too hot and I want to take my coat off. Suddenly I feel claustrophobic, as though I have no space to move about in order to do this. I will disturb the natural order of things, or at least the order of two people sitting side by side. So I sit there, burning up, trying to go about my business. But I can’t check my phone or look at my notebook, without feeling like someone is looking over my shoulder as I do it. Finally I give up on my own private activities. “So, you’re holding down the fort?” I ask him. Clearly this is not really his seat, he is wearing a headset, after all. “Yes, this seat is for Fern Mallis.” Fern Mallis is the vice president of IMG Fashion. I formally met her in Mumbai over a year ago at another fashion week and I will never forget how she found an incredible black and white striped rug at Fab India but decided it wouldn’t fit in her suitcase. So she let me buy it instead, even though I could tell she was very disappointed.

We are silent again and I start scanning the room for flashbulbs. Nothing yet, except for some shaggy haired guy being interviewed. I don’t know who is, which means he’s probably on television. “So have you been enjoying the shows?” the guy asks me. I look at him and hesitate. I can tell he’s quite thrilled to be working in the tents, holding Fern’s seat, watching all the biggest shows. I don’t want to be a killjoy by saying how crappy I think everything has been and how tired I am. I don’t feign enthusiasm, exactly, but I stop myself from complaining and give a canned response. Continue reading ‘it’s showtime, folks! (bye bye life)’

Crack

Coaxed into covering a chocolate show involving fashion made of chocolate, I cast aside my inhibitions. “Unleash the chocoholicism!” is what this event invites. Throngs descend upon the West Side Highway, a sight I’m more accustomed to seeing in the daylight, for the Armory Show. West 50th Street is a desolate strip between 10th Avenue and now, all FedEx and horse  stables and double parked cars. I stop over the Amtrak rails, my favorite spot in Midtown, it reminds me of Manhattan’s history as a hub of industry and trade, the grand connector between far off lands and the heartland, the mountains, the desert, the Pacific Coast…now Doritos wrappers and Burger King bags line the rails, probably needles and condoms and shit, too. Well that’s history, too. “What opera is like a railwayline? —The Rose of Castile. See the wheeze? Rows of cast steel. Gee!”

Continue reading ‘Crack’

Pumpkin

It’s October, and that means pumpkins. As a child, I hated, hated, cake for my birthday. So my mom made me pumpkin pie instead. Oh, the thrill of being the first pumpkin pie eater of the season, a full month before Thanksgiving trotted into town.

Let me tell you about a most surprising salad that I ate at my beloved Marlow & Sons, where I go to remind myself that there is nothing in the world more worth fighting for than food. This salad: the daily market salad, composed of vegetable scrapings, swirls of olive oil and good, strong parmagiano. Those vegetables: Here’s where things must take a bow. Thinly shaved raw pumpkin with a carved crunch in the mouth the equivalent of a spoon scraping pumpkin flesh for seeds. This mixed with pungent broccoli greens possessing an honorable, wholly charming overbite.

Imagine, if you will, a plate that resembled the topography of a New Mexican mesa in winter: Dry, earthen desert parsed with summer’s last green shrubbery. A fine layer of powder precipitates the dish with salty sweetness.

Dance then Eat

chopshop.jpg

Two of my favorite things, dancing and eating, artist Agathe Snow tackles in her life-as-art work. One of the artists behind Chop Shop, as part of this year’s Whitney Biennial she’ll be hosting a couple of performance-based projects at the Armory, the Biennial’s new annex this year. The first is her version of a dance-a-thon, Stamina: Gloria et Patria, starting this Sunday, March 9th. After you’ve won that contest and burned about a million calories, check out her gypsy feast, Abat-Jour, that she’ll be producing in collaboration with another Biennial artist, Rita Ackermann.

Stamina, via Whitney.org, March 9-15:

“Snow holds daily dance sessions throughout the Armory over the course of a week, culminating in a twentyfour- hour dance marathon in the Drill Hall. Visitors are issued time cards to record their participation, and at the end of the week the winner—whoever has danced the longest—is announced. Time cards are available at the Armory Information Desk and at the Information Desk in the Museum Lobby.”

Abat-Jour, March 23, 2008:

“Ackermann and Snow host a gypsy-themed feast, in which food, drink, and decoration—as well as the guests themselves—become materials in the work of art. A play on the French word for lampshade, Abat-Jour refers to bajour, a traditional gypsy confidence game. Using bartering and chance as a central themes, Ackermann and Snow explore issues related to gender, community, and celebration. At 9:30 pm all visitors are welcome to dance in the dinner hall. Please visit whitney.org/biennial for registration information. ”

[Image courtesy Chop Shop.]

Battle of the Bad Boy Spunkrats pt 1

Layne [Crispin Glover] in “River’s Edge” [1986]

V’S

Ritchie White [Matt Dillon] in “Over The Edge” [1979]

Both brownhaired anti-heroes in sensitive young people’s films with kicky soundtracks and fashion flair.

You Can Have Your Fur And Eat It Too

A 1950s self-help book, or the definition of the enjoyment of smoked sable?

The fur coat of smoked fish.

Get thee to Russ & Daughters pronto for this, the “poor man’s sturgeon.”

sable.JPG

Diner Journal

Chocolate Shortbread with Grey Sea Salt

Charming, earnest, homespun, scientific.

Diner Journal is the quarterly food magazine published by chefs/restaurateurs behind Diner, Marlow & Sons and Bonita, that trinity of Williamsburg restaurants at the forefront of the seasonal-local-farm food movement in the area, well ahead of the curve.

To enjoy oysters & prosecco at Marlow & Sons is to escape the cesspool. Attend regularly.

Diner Journal is essential reading for those curious about Old World cheese caves in the New World or deceptively simple, but overwhelmingly flavorful recipes worth their weight in Mayan gold, such as Chocolate Shortbread with Sea Salt (see the version I made in the above photo), featured in their latest issue, No. 6: Winter 2007. To die for.

Stewing

med_queer_fishing_lance.jpgFreezing rain covered the shiny grey boots, powdery rubber sloshing through dampened streets and sleet-ridden sidewalks.

There was no other alternative than to assemble this stew, a simplified version of traditional bouillabaisse based on the ingredients I had on hand and/or could carry home under such pitiful outdoor circumstances.

1 fennel head, thinly sliced with stems and core removed

1 leek, white and light green parts only, halved and thinly sliced crosswise

1 shallot, diced

4 cloves garlic, minced

3 small potatoes, diced

3 stalks celery, thinly sliced on a diagonal

1 can diced plum tomatoes

4 cups stock, preferably fish stock but chicken can be used instead

2 cups sauvignon blanc

3 T olive oil

1 T butter

1 sprig of rosemary, needles removed from stem

a few sage leaves, chopped

¼ teaspoon saffron threads, soaked in ¼ cup warm water

Sea salt and pepper to taste. Start with 1 T of salt and ½ teaspoon of pepper and go from there

Sprinkling of red pepper flakes, also adjust according to taste

Handful of Italian parsley, chopped (optional) for garnish

1 ½-2 pounds your favorite fish, cut into small pieces, and/or shellfish

In a large stock pot, heat oil and butter on medium heat and add garlic and shallots. Sprinkle with sea salt. Saute for about 2-3 minutes, lowering heat if necessary so that garlic does not fry. Add the leek and fennel, dust with more sea salt, and stir frequently for another 3 minutes, until leeks and fennel soften. Add the stock, potatoes, sauvignon blanc, rosemary, sage, saffron, salt, pepper and red pepper flakes. Cover pot and simmer on low for 30 minutes.

Return heat to medium and add fish/shellfish. Give pot a stir, and cook fish for 3 minutes.

Serve immediately in bowls and garnish with parsley.

Garlic-rubbed toast made from a Balthazar boule goes nicely with the soup, as do quesadillas made with a sharp, aged cheese.

Pair with the leftover sauvignon blanc.

Okay…might as well open another bottle.