Posts Tagged ‘waffles’

you can’t call it cheatin’

Thursday, October 18th, 2012

Monday morning we were in much better shape (due to a distinct lack of residual corned beef, as well as lower alcohol consumption, I suspect) and we made it out of the hotel in time for the tail end of rush hour.

And waffles.

This truck is called Wafels and Dinges. They’re all over the city, but we stopped at the one in Columbus Circle.

I got the Brussels wafel with speculoos spread, which I’ve been reading about for years (or so it feels, I actually have no idea – I mean, doesn’t it feel like you were hearing about burrata when you were just a fetus at this point?)  and it was so fucking delicious that I really was just forced to use a curse word in that sentence.

It was so delicious that I don’t even care that I look like a squinty rabbit in this picture.

I dropped the last quarter of it on the ground.

It was the saddest thing that happened to me in the whole trip.

Crockett went for the special of the day, which was an apple pie waffle. Same waffle, apple pie spread, whipped cream, cinnamon, and lots of love (probably).  I’m sure it was good, but it was no speculoos. Seriously, cookie spread? Sounds so weird! SO NOT WEIRD. SO GOOD.

After Crockett finished his waffle and I had a moment of silence for the city-sidewalk-death of mine, we headed to Chelsea to see Highline Park and (more importantly) the Chelsea Market. Highline Park is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen (<- complete and total lie). It’s like a museum walkway built twenty feet above the ground – the whole thing is only fifteenish feet wide and bedroom and office windows immediately surround it. Neat thing to do with an old train track, but still very strange. Crockett took a bunch of pictures but apparently I wasn’t feeling it, because I have zero. What I do have is a picture of the seafood sliders we shared from The Lobster Place in Chelsea Market. Crab one – good. Shrimp one – eh. Really, who genuinely likes tarragon? I’m asking. Lobster one – quite tasty but still no match for the one at The Empire. (Of COURSE I’m not sucking up to my hometown local, what’choo talkin’ bout.)

From there we hopped over to the Essex St. Market. We were exhausted, but I wanted to see Shopsin’s and get some cookies from Beurre & Sel.

Two shops at the market were closed, everything else was open. Those two shops were Shopsin’s and Beurre & Sel. Sigh. The whole thing was just like a confusing supermarket – it might have been cool if we hadn’t been to Chelsea Market first, but we had. We got Crockett some coconut water and moved on with our lives.

It turned out we were only a few blocks from the famous bagel-er (made up word? Judge says… probably!) Russ & Daughters, so we swung by to round out our brunch of tiny sandwiches.

Lox (don’t ask me what kind – the man behind the counter tried and then just said ‘mild?’ and I said ‘ok!’ and then he asked me what kind of cream cheese and I said ‘what kind do you like’ and he said ‘I like them all’ so I just picked and he said ‘spectacular’ and I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or what but anyway) and scallion cream cheese on a plain mini bagel. Question: is the defining characteristic of New York bagels an exceptionally chewy crust?

Properly fortified, we headed back to midtown.

We stopped by the LEGO store and I pretended, just for a moment, that I was Liz Lemon. It was very exciting. I tried to talk Crockett into ice skating, because it turns out the rink in Rockefeller Center is there even when the tree isn’t, but then when he said he would it turned out I was just kidding because my feet hurt. Whoops.

Instead, we went by MOMA. Although they were lacking a giant Egyptian statue, their gift shop was way better than the Met’s. I call it a draw on the museums-we-didn’t-actually-go-into showdown.

We had a whole plan. We’d walked off our mini sandwiches, and we were going to have a late lunch at Don Antonio, another pizza place on my list-of-NY-pizza places (a list that didn’t actually include any traditional NY style pie places but wev), then nap, then head back out.

We showed up at Don Antonio at 3:31, and they were closed from 3:30 to 4:30. Their website said nothing about that, so I whined for awhile, and Crockett decided to move the nap up the list of things to do – I only made it a few blocks before freaking out and insisting I needed a drink and a chair asap.

I’m sometimes quite charming to travel with.

Victor’s Cafe saved me!

A daiquiri …

an avocado filled with bacon and tomato and monterey jack served with plaintain chips…

and some pretty hilarious avocado-as-creepy-crawly artwork by Crockett …

put the smile back on my face. (I think I took like seven pictures. Crockett was smiling in most of them  but I looked like an idiot. I have no idea what’s happening with him in this one but it’s my blog so HA. This may have been immediately after the bartender was talking about how he’d accidentally auditioned for a porn, so maybe Crockett’s mulling that over.)

The avocado didn’t turn out to be enough food, and it was a little after four thirty by the time we finished at Victor’s, so we decided to head back to Don Antonio. They’re doing traditional Neapolitan pizza, just like Motorino, but with some twists.

Crockett started with a beer that had a gorgeous label, and I had some … wine. People, I don’t even know anymore. A lot of things happened in these days, and many of those things were wine, ok?

We ordered two pizzas, even though we weren’t starving, because we absolutely had to try the house specialty. (This is not it.) This is a sausage pizza with fresh mozzarella and pistachio pesto that reminded me very much of the pizzas they sell on the street in Turkey. It got better with every bite, and was it’s absolute best at room temperature. Strange but true.

This is the house specialty. The dough is lightly fried prior to being topped with sauce and smoked mozzarella and baked. It was bizarre, and as far as ‘pizza’ goes it wasn’t anything special, but as a food all on it’s own? Fried bread with tasty sauce and cheese? I could eat that every single day. Also, it was $12, which struck me as crazy reasonable, especially considering we were in midtown Manhattan.

We had lots of leftovers and took them home, but I had to stop one more time before we hit the hotel.

Pinkberry peanut butter froyo! We don’t have Pinkberry in CO, so how could I resist?

I’m not going to lie -we almost didn’t make it back out of the hotel after all that. We’d walked for hours, eaten a bunch, drank… we were wiped. We napped until seven and then rallied, though, because we were in New York freaking City.

We went to the Apple Store.

Nope, not at all kidding.

Then we walked cross town to Hell’s Kitchen, to yet another place I’d stumbled across in my internet explorations of the city. It’s called Caseulla, and they specialize in wine and cheese. Naturally, we had some wine and cheese. Crockett also had a mead called Viking’s Blood, and everyone around us at the bar was fascinated and had to taste it too. Then our bartender tried to pick up our bar neighbor, even though he was pretty clearly already on a date.

Then we ate bacon popcorn and I realized it was Crockett’s birthday, because it was past midnight.

The bartender brought us goat cheese and Nutella truffles to celebrate, we ate them, and then we walked home.  It was our last night, but we were seriously wiped, so we decided to have one more drink at the hotel bar and then call it a night.  We did not see Chase Crawford or Blake Lively, but we did have cozy seats by the fireplace, so I think we made the right call. Then we slept hard. NY is exhausting, have I mentioned that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Syrup

Sunday, February 27th, 2011

Yes, I do like syrup. In the title, though, it’s capitalized for a reason.

Syrup.

My friends Rachael and Anna recently moved to a new house, in the Baker neighborhood of Denver. I’m a scared little suburban girl, so up and coming neighborhoods make me a little nervous, but their house is adorable. And like a block from the Breckenridge Brewery. Not that they’ve been there. If I lived there, though? Brewery tours. YAY.

I drove to Denver to see their house, and they took me to their favorite brunch location. Syrup is actually in Cherry Creek, a shwanky neighborhood not too far away, but they apparently go there all the time.

Despite the lack of a liquor license, I knew they were right about this place when I saw the wallpaper and the dog heads in the entryway.

The interior is this great shade of green as well, and I was thisclose to stealing some of the white chairs.

I have a lot of chairs, but lookithowcutetheyare!!

And this. If I could have figured out a way, this would have come home with me.

We were seated at the corner table, with sun and a street level view of saturday Cherry Creek shoppers.

Don’t judge Rachael for making this face at me. Our coffee hadn’t been poured yet.

Oh, there it is.

The coffee was mild and drinkable, as evidenced by the fact that I drank approximately five cups.

Rach and Anna know their way around the menu, and made their decisions right away. This is Rachael’s not-Benedict.

By not-Benedict I mean she ordered the corned beef benedict (still a benedict), on a croissant (mmmaybe still a benedict), and then asked that they scramble the eggs.

I don’t know what you call this delicious mess, but it ain’t a benedict.

Anna had a breakfast sandwich, on a croissant. With a side of hollandaise sauce.

I did tell you they know their way around the menu, right?

I had the classic breakfast burrito, with absolutely no alterations. No croissants, no hollandaise. It was all very boring of me.

It was super tasty, though. I don’t know what all was in it, exactly -chorizo, definitely, and green chili on top. Eggs. A good tortilla. And … some other stuff.

They give you a lot of food. Rach had some leftovers…

and I definitely had some leftover (insert this image for Saturday night dinner, if you will).

They cleared our plates, and the meal was over.

Oh, no, wait.

It wasn’t over.

Rachael and Anna have this wacky concept.

Breakfast dessert.

Sure, Syrup calls them ‘Breakfast Appetizers’, but R&A have decided they make far more sense as desserts. You chose a pancake or waffle flight, and then three types of syrup from that list.

And then two types of butter from this list.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’re looking at breakfast dessert.

Sadly the butters shown aren’t the ones we asked for. We wanted Drunken Pecan and Honey Butter, and all they had left was PB&J Butter and regular butter.

The syrups, though – dear god, the syrups. I didn’t even need butter.

In front is the Maple Vanilla syrup. Do you see the flecks of vanilla seed in that syrup? That is SO MUCH vanilla. My moderately trained eye tells me that the teaspoon of syrup on my plate probably has a quarter of a vanilla bean’s worth of seed in it. So much vanilla.

When Crockett gets home from skiing, we’re going to take a bath in the stuff.

Sorry for that imagery.

The one in the middle is Strawberry Syrup. It was good. If I’d tasted it before the Maple Vanilla, I probably would have been really impressed – it truly tasted like strawberries, not like a strawberry jolly rancher (which is what I expected). The one in the back is butterscotch syrup. It tasted like butterscotch.

Whatever.

Did I mention the Maple Vanilla syrup?

Monday breakfast

Monday, August 16th, 2010

Last week I made ricotta (if you haven’t tried it, it’s easy peasy) and now I put it on waffles leftover from Saturday- one with blueberry jam and one with strawberry. Also, it’s still peach season in Colorado. The yum here is undeniable.