Tuesday, July 26, 2011
On random Sundays, I force my boyfriend to take me to brunch so I can eat eggs and some of whatever he ordered at 1pm to nurse my hangover. Brunch is one of the best creations modern man has ever constructed. Some other things in the category with brunch naturally include the wheel, the internet, the light bulb, and Toddlers and Tiaras. Obviously.
This past Sunday began no different than any other brunch Sunday. I woke from my dream of sugar plums (with a side of cornbread hash) dancing in my head, planned to annoy Chris until he woke up, and pondered how I wanted my eggs. Did I even want eggs? Maybe I'd go for more the "unch" side. Or maybe I'd get some french toast. Who knows! That's the crazy thing about brunch, you could have anything you want. Oh brunch....
Now, I do owe you a brunch themed week so I can banter about all of the glorious things I have eaten early Sunday afternoons but right now, I'm just going to focus on my most recent endeavor: Cookshop.
You might be thinking "what an adorable name!" as I did. That's because Cookshop is a happy place and happy places are named happy names. Some of you may remember my Five Points mishap. Since I wanted to redeem myself and Cookshop is also owned by Marc Meyer, Vicki Freeman and Chris Paraskevaides, I felt that this was my chance.
After scanning the menu and having a mini-crisis about what to order - eggs or french toast OH THE PRESSURE! - I decided on the Cookshop Scramble (caramelized onions, creme fraiche, chives, and pork sausage with a buttermilk biscuit) and Chris ordered walnut-raisin french toast with vanilla-mascarpone cream, toasted almonds, and strawberries. "They had me at mascarpone," he joked. Comments like that are why we're together. Adorable.
While I acted interested in our conversation, all I really could focus on was taking that first bite. After all, it is my favorite of the bites. And then it came. Delicious. Though I probably could have put some of the scramble on the biscuit and eat it like a sandwich, I choose to cut it up and mix it in the goodness. Best decision I'd made in days. Naturally, I asked Chris for some of his food while trying to look as innocent as possible. It worked and the french toast was also freaking delicious.
I kind of wanted to hug the waitress, demand I meet the chef, and cry to him about how thankful my taste buds were... but you know, that's not socially acceptable.
Not yet anyway.
PS Cookshop is right across from the 20th st entrance to the Highline. Food and fun!
Saturday, July 16, 2011
You caught me. I lied to you, reader. I know I promised more frequent posts but I still made you wait.... patience is a virtue. I was clearly testing your authenticity as a human.Now, as some of you may not know, I love all things Greek. From their affinity for the olive to my friend Constantine's ridiculously beautiful hair - the Greeks could teach us Americans a thing or two about living the good life. So when my friend shared that we were going to Pylos for her birthday, I was ecstatic... maybe a little too much. These are new friends, I should try to hide the odd side of me. But Pylos? COME ON! Ever since my sister moved to the East Village, I've been waiting for the day I'd eat at Pylos. I was excited.
I met my friends - and besides for the self-loathing woman next to us out for her anniversary with the husband she clearly abhorred - all was perfect. Once our Greek friend arrived, we were ready to order. Think I'd go without a Greek? Yea, okay. Now, I cannot stress how effing delicious each morsel was. For appetizers, we shared a little of everything with one another since we all were gaga over the dishes. My personal favorites were the anginares moussaka (artichoke moussaka) and soutzoukakia smyrneika (awesome meatball things, yea don't try to pronounce it - that's why we invited a Greek). As per my friend's suggestion, I ordered the arni kotsi me meli, gigantes skordalia kai psiti tomata, which roughly translates into huge lamb shank awesomeness with bean puree and ridiculous roasted tomatoes. So maybe I added an adjective or two. You get the point.
I had to leave dinner early to visit my newly engaged friend and oogle her ring. I was a little sad.
Parting is such sweet sorrow