Something simple, something great
Food can be part of your spring cleaning, the latest on Hooters, and the micro-chain expansion I'm most excited about
Well, it appears we’ve made it. Spring arrived, daylight savings brought with her longer days, and the constant uncertainty of how many layers to wear and if it will rain persists for the foreseeable.
It’s prime time for a reset, and after my marathon of dining out last week, I’ve been feeling the irresistible tick of spring cleaning. I want to eat lentils 3 meals a day. I want to rotate out my sweaters with t-shirts and inevitably make a huge pile to laze around in the corner of the room until finally, one day, it gets donated. I want to return to my kitchen (and closet) with a renewed sense of excitement. In the wake of eating oysters and drinking wine every night for a week, that looks like a wee break from so much drinking, lots of chicken bones simmering away for a full afternoon, a pantry restock, and cookbooks strewn around my apartment as I search for recipes that…spark joy. I’ve felt devoted to a reset, not in a detox way, but with the intention of finding pleasure in all that is simple and good.
I get an email from Luise about how good Diljān is. I tell her my new favorite yellow cake recipe is Melissa Weller’s from A Good Bake. She sends me the work of Elena Heatherwick and I can’t stop looking at her photography.
With the rain gone, I finally get to prance around in my new suede Margaux Clara mules, grinning as my heels get waves of cold air, finally free from my slowly disintegrating sock collection.
My Farm to People is full of rainbow chard and rainbow carrots. I have no plans for either but I’m sure it will come to me. I avoid dinner and drinks plans, opting for coffee instead so I can take advantage of my Spring produce and drink a little less. Julia hosts a well-timed saloon event with Aplós and I become enamored with their ume spritz. I swear it’s the most delicious canned beverage I’ve ever had. I’m not kidding.
I got new jeans and a new work bag for my birthday and it is making me feel very grown up. Especially with my quart containers of confit garlic, chicken stock, and braised fennel in the fridge, and my pantry overflowing with Rancho Gordo beans and Sqirl jam. Small wins as I try to pick a healthcare plan.
I found myself in the West Village last week for a lunchtime meeting. Despite my barren fridge, the last thing I wanted was more restaurant food. The sun was out, though the air was far brisker than I had dressed for in my short trench and long sleeve shirt. I was craving a bit of warmth and something simple. Nothing too rich, too extravagant. And yet, I landed at one of the more decadent restaurants in the neighborhood. Via Carota was drenched in sunlight, with one crowded stool at the end of the bar waiting just for me. I sat at an angle, so as not to wrap my forearm underneath the iron stand occupying my small counter real estate boasting flowers and citrus. I declined a menu and ordered right away; I wasn’t stopping for a mid-day risotto—I had my eye on just one item that was enough to draw me in for an easily avoidable $30 meal.
Via Carota’s ribollita feels like a secret, despite its position at the top of the menu. On a page full of cherished salads and fresh pasta, the traditional vegetable bread soup hardly sounds like a treat. The scalloped bowl that arrives, though smaller than you’d expect for $22 (!!!), is a piping hot green-ish, brown-ish stew with a generous centerpiece of freshly grated parmigiano. Even in a packed dining room, after a not so great start to the work day, on a colder than you’d like day, that $22 soup will transport you. The dish is, first and foremost, perfectly salted. It’s also lovingly filled with soft bits of broken up bread thickening the stew holding up creamy beans and soft vegetables leaving few brothy bites. There’s just enough olive oil drizzled on top that you can taste it, a welcomed peppery note, but not enough for the dish to feel oily. With my phone and airpods out of reach, I sat, slurping up every last bite, before paying my tab and heading on my way. I also immediately texted my family chat to ask if the soup was included in the VC cookbook. Devastated to learn that it is not. Sure, Via Carota is full of tourists and packed at all hours of the day, but don’t forget how good it can be for just the right, simple dish, all alone, on a Wednesday afternoon.
Just a week prior, my mid-day lunch brought a very similar delight in simplicity. My first visit to Mariscos El Submarino was highly anticipated and long overdue. I loved the bright white and turquoise restaurant from the moment I stepped inside and laid eyes on the row of 8 hot sauces sported on every small table.
Our verde aguachile mixtos was exceptional, as was the tuna tostada and our assortment of tacos, with dabs of each hot sauce dotting our plates as we tested the heat of each. And perhaps my favorite part was the simplest—a constant refresh of golden brown tostadas, pulled from an endless supply of plastic bags you might very well see at the grocery store. Like the impossible-to-stop-eating tortilla chips at a Mexican restaurant, these tostadas tasted exceptional, though there was truly nothing so special about them. Slightly fried flavor, adequate saltiness. They broke the spice of so many dishes and served as the optimal vehicle for scooping up raw shrimp and thinly slice cucumbers from the lime green liquid containing it. Worth paying a little extra attention to next time you’re there.
I have to stop myself nearly every morning from prancing over to Little Egg for ACQ toast and jam with a couple fried eggs, maybe a side of kale, and a black drip coffee. I settle, most mornings, for my new perfectly golden Miolin granola, a golden kiwi, and Painterland Sisters yogurt (thank you, Hallie, for putting me on). Why do eggs and toast taste so much better when they cost you $12, and are enjoyed outside of your own home? Picking up breakfast excitement is a lifelong pursuit of mine. Maybe I should finally give Alison Roman’s spanish tortilla a whirl.
Hallie and I find ourselves at Elbow Bread, as we so often do, and watched a girl out front audibly gasp as she bit into the salty pistachio donut. I, not a huge fan of pistachio-flavored items, was persuaded. While not nearly as simple as their perfectly executed sesame spelt roll with a massive slab of salted butter sandwiched between, it’s hard to even pinpoint what makes the pistachio donut so excellent. The cake is rich and soft, and rolled in sugar before frosting for a surprise crunch in each bite, alongside big flakes of salt. The Shrek-green icing is bound to cover your face and hands, as if it were 2002 and you were trying to get your little paws around a strawberry frosted Dunkin’s donut.
I haven’t been anywhere new recently, and my Want to Go list is growing quickly. I think I’ll get back into the swing of things soon—once my stomach and wallet feel a bit more recovered. Bear with me :) In the meantime, I’m testing a recipe for the Gem cookie from scratch with no information other than its name and texture. And planning a new series for roF. PLUS have a few very exciting pop-ups in the works for this summer.
And now, all the latest updates, new openings, and pending restaurant news I have collected the last month…if you’re new here, Table Talk is a bonus feature for paid subscribers where I round up all of the newest hospitality news I think is worth noting and categorize into three categories: Just Opened, Something New, and Another One, so you can easily pick through the endless changes in the food world in NYC, see where your favorite spots are expanding, and highlight the forthcoming restaurants you’re most excited about. This is the ninth edition! The others are HERE.
P.S. great lunch discourse happening this week:
Arden Yum’s investigative lunch journalism
I know you are all on the edge of your seat. The very last NYC Hooters has closed. I didn’t know we had Hooters here, which led me down a wormhole of other very suburban-feeling chains and their presence in the city. I’d like to point out that the nearest Cheesecake Factory’s are in Elmhurst and Hoboken. There’s a Rainforest Cafe in Atlantic City. We have lots of Buffalo Wild Wings GO’s in the city which seem far less appealing than the full sit-down strip mall experience. You have to go to New Lots for that. Or the Bronx. We still have the Times Square Olive Garden. Meanwhile, the 120 year old Barbetta on 46th and 8th avenue shuttered last month. I guess the appetite for breadsticks only persists when they’re unlimited?