Craft NYC... sort of.

I will admit (and have, to my K) that despite a curious palate, I don't often remember specifics when it comes to restaurants. Tastes and dishes, for the most part, seem to become less distinct with the passage of time. The overall impression, I retain: most importantly, who I'm dining with, and then the general quality and harmony of the meal.

A "successful" meal will be a vacation in itself-- the most successful, a getaway for two (two being a very specific number, heh heh): involuntary smiles and laughter soon become conscious and increasingly enthusiastic. All else is forgotten in the world, except for one's dining companion(s). And when your dining companion smiles as K does, laughs as she does, speaks as she does, it wouldn't matter if there wasn't anything else in the world.

Success isn't defined by ingredients, decor, or service. It is that almost single-minded... devotion?... to the person across the table or next to you. Dining at a restaurant is a special occasion to be enjoyed-- no worrying about shopping, prep work, cooking times, and cleaning up after (particularly when other things are going on in the world). It is a focus on a shared activity, a common joy. Of course, if a meal is transcendent, it certainly helps to have the external reinforcement of that feeling of harmony.

That is, particularly if the harmony you feel is called "being madly in love with your beautiful, funny, and intelligent girlfriend." Yes, ladies and gentlemen, luckiest, happiest guy in the world here-- hi!

And this past week, I found myself back in New York (where "we" began) with my one love across the table from me: bacon. Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Sorry, honey, couldn't resist-- tee hee hee.

But. Craft.

I think we did the right thing by going with small dishes.

Crispy bacon: Three pieces of pork belly served verrrry crispy. Fried to a crust on the skin side, with melty/gooey fat and tender "lean" meat. Perfectly seasoned. Great with the butter lettuce salad; by itself-- I can't believe I'm saying this-- almost too fatty. (Honey, please don't think less of me...) The formerly bordering-on-almost-too-crunchy-skin-side was a perfect textural complement to the lettuce as well.

Butter lettuce salad: Wedges with a six-minute egg (outside of the egg was breadcrumbed and fried). Give me anything with a warm runny egg yolk and you've won me over; maybe something that K and I agree on? Good question to ask. With the bacon, really freaking good. Without the bacon, might've been too... plain? Can't say, because I didn't look back once I found the combo, ha ha ha.

Beet salad: Probably the 3rd or 4th time I've had beets, but pretty good. Earthy, semi-sweet, tasted like fresh beets (...guessing here...). Ask my lover for a more qualified verdict.

Cardoons: Billed by the server as a cross between celery (texture) and artichoke (flavor), the cardoons lived up to the advertisement. As artichoke is another one of those count-the-number-of-times-I've-had-it-on-one-hand items, I think it was pretty good. Perhaps a touch bitter, if I recall correctly, but maybe artichokes are supposed to taste a little bitter-- I just don't know. Another handoff to K, ha ha hah a (we make such a great team). But bitter as a descriptor, not a negative.

Creamed spinach: Yum.

Hen of the woods mushrooms: Considering that this is something that Craft is famous for (unless I ordered an incorrect variant), I was underwhelmed. Underseasoned? Simply roasted, texture was bordering on a little tough and chewy, particularly near the base of the stems. Slightly less festive note.

Berkshire pork ravioli: Overall impression seemed to be slightly more al dente (including the filling) than I would like, but solid, happy flavors. Interestingly, because of the strength of everything else, this was middle-to-bottom of the pack.

Pear study: Tart and two types of pear sorbets. The non-spiced sorbet was slightly more awesome. Tart was gud (sic).

Chocolate souffle: Four words: Earl Gray creme anglaise. Some random letters: OMFGROFLMAOWTF! The chocolate souffle was boring by comparison.

Sugar & spice doughnuts: YES! This was the most delightful dish of the night. Light, fluffy mounds with just the right amount of external sugar... and cinnamon (the proper amount of cinnamon is just enough to be tasted), I seem to recall. Fun mini proportions, with MONDO sauces-- chocolate and applesauce, which were served with, and then THE MASSIVELY ENTERTAINING EARL GRAY CREME ANGLAISE.

Overall, it was the perfect amount of food and we didn't leave stuffed (Pierre Gagnaire, I'm looking at you)... but oddly enough, we were feeling a bit full before dessert??? But despite what might sound like criticisms above, one of our great restaurant meals and experiences, in my opinion-- maybe top five? Really high quality, really delightful. A fantastic experience all around, and I was very lucky to have such a wonderful dining companion.

It was appropriate that the dishes I most enjoyed things were a combination of something ordered for K and something for me: bacon + lettuce, doughnuts + creme anglaise. I think we worked in a feedback loop, because I kept getting happier when my girl got happier. Happiness all around, in fact, even with the decor-- the spray-paint (huh-ha!) paintings and lightbulbs and crazy walls.

A glance at the watch at the end of our meal showed our stay at Craft was pushing three hours, for a meal that was simpler with "small" plates. When such time has flown so enjoyably and comfortably by, you know you've found someone very special.

And boy, have I ever!



...Okay, the restaurant's pretty special, too.

Operation Cassava Melon (shake-a-shake-a)

Step One: Enjoy your Thanksgiving.

Step Two: Take turkey carcass. Lovingly remove flesh. Place bones in stock pot. Boil with celery, carrots, onions, thyme and rosemary.

Step Three: Strain stock. Use heavenly turkey water to flavor polenta, risotto, sauces, stews.

Step Four: Notify long-distance boyfriend.

Step Five: Wait.

Love ya' Honey!

Chocolate: The Sequel

Evidently, le boyfriend was only getting started with his first shipment of chocolate! Hard to believe, seeing as the first batch was truly a smörgåsbord of the world's best bars. Over the course of the past few years, however, I have never stopped admiring H's assiduous curiosity, thoughtfulness, and generous affection. Alors, more chocolate followed on the heels of the first. In thanks, a review!

Dole's Waialua Estate 70%: Yes, made by Dole, makers of canned fruit and raisins; but don't judge based on the brand! This is an absolutely delightful bar. It arrives as five ten-gram bars, the perfect size for tasting. The taste is rich and fruity. However, in comparison with the bars which followed, the Dole bar had a powdery flavor, more like cocoa powder than smooth cocoa butter.

Rogue Chocolatier Rio Caribe 70%: Like the Rogue Hispaniola, the texture and physical properties of the Rogue Chocolatier product are exceptional. For it's melting properties, tempering and presentation it is the best chocolate available. The flavor of the Rio Caribe is lower in profile than the Hispaniola, like an oboe as compared to a flute. They both sing, just at different registers. It was delicious, and indulgent in a way that only deep, creamy chocolate can be.

Francois Pralus Republique Dominicaine 75%: I have a new lover. No no no, H isn't going anywhere. I mean a new chocolate love. A new relationship in cocoa. It is this bar, made with organically grown cocoa, grown in Madagascar with trees from the Dominican Republic, processed in France, consumed in America. Ahh, the taste of organic chocolate, with the heady overtones of jet fuel. No matter, this bar is so divine that it will banish all thoughts of melting ice caps for those of melting chocolate. Like the Hispaniola, this bar has fine, sharp berry flavors. It is a more finely tuned instrument, however, than the Rogue chocolates. Each note is in perfect harmony. It made me eat chocolate like a kid, one grand corner snapped off, then another, until half the bar was gone!

Now that's something to be thankful for this season.

Portrait of a Lady and a Tramp

I was relishing and basking in glory of the last post, perfectly content in having that be the first one that the world would see, but that would be selfish. So, I have created a tribute-to-us post for my honey pumpkin.

Make no mistake. This is the tribute post.

Put on your goggles or your face will be ripped off.

I present Exhibit A: a story from a British news source (doesn't really matter which one). In case they take it down, I have reproduced the epic story below.

--
Boxer dog adopts a goat
Thursday, February 28, 2008

With a name like Billy, this boxer was perhaps destined to be mates with a kid.

The pet dog has become a father figure to baby goat Lilly after she was tossed out by her mother.

'They sleep together and even clean each other,' said owner Katherine Tozer at her farm near Buckfast-leigh, Devon.
--

Let me take a step back.

"Hunh!"

(I'm not as young as I used to be. (Also, there is no step back like a James Brown step back.))

I was inspired to find something online worthy of my sweetie pie, so naturally I typed in the normal happy couple searches to see how we fared against the recommendations ("check, check, got that going on in spades, check, you must be crazy Cosmogirl!") and use the article like a bingo board (you draw your own conclusions (fine-- naturally, I bingo-ed the crap out of the Internet)).

So I had to go bigger. Like... Greatest Of All Time big.

"G.O.A.T."

Cycling through my google results-- results like the Ultimate Goat Fansite-- I found a pic that could express my boundless love for my one and only: Billy, the goat-adopting boxer.

I felt the love. But I also felt that certain things needed to be changed to better express... my world. Behold Avalon:

You see, it's very symbolic what I have done. The symbolic red lips and shoes. The symbolic tie and black box. The symbolic big yellow star. But most symbolic are the polygon happy faces-- why is hers a decahedron and mine only a pentagon?

It's because she is my better half (and here, we define "better half" as "my face only has half the number of sides n as hers does" (don't think about it too hard-- nothing romantic ever stands up to the light of reason (and it's because love is an impulse, unplanned inspiration huh-ha!)))

Baby, I would totally clean you. (And please immediately see above for boxer-goat-owner Katherine Tozer's comments before you clean my clock. (Romantic, right? Right? Anybody?))