Blood, Bones, and Butter, Metal Mountains, etc.

fig. a: the lamb roast

We'd been itching to check out Gabrielle Hamilton's Prune for years. People we trusted kept urging us to go, and we'd heard nothing but the most enthusiastic reviews. Then we started to catch wind of a new book by Hamilton--not a cookbook, but a memoir. And then her story "The Lamb Roast" appeared in the January 17, 2011 issue of The New Yorker--a little foretaste of the book, now officially titled Blood, Bones, and Butter and slated for release in March--and that sealed the deal. The next thing you knew, Michelle was talking a lot about extravagant outdoor roasts--lamb and goat roasts, mostly. The next thing you knew, Prune had become a #1 priority.

The story was about a lamb roast, yes. More specifically, it was about an elaborate lamb roast her eccentric set-designer father threw for friends and family on their sprawling property in rural Pennsylvania, an undertaking inspired by "a photograph torn from a magazine of two Yugoslav men roasting a lamb over a pit." But, really, it was about so much more. And although there was a certain nostalgia to Hamilton's story--the "sexy black cat-eye eyeliner" fashioned after '60s icons like Audrey Hepburn and Sophia Loren that her mother wore; the pre-McMansion innocence of the Pennsylvania/New Jersey landscape; the insouciance of riding untethered in the back of a pickup truck; the traditional family-owned butcher shop in the days before "artisanal," "organic," and "free-range"--this was a tale of heartbreak, or, perhaps more accurately, a tale of innocence lost.  Either way, there was a lot there that the two of us could relate to--the artistic milieu, the barbecue, and the "meadow filled with people and fireflies and laughter," the freedoms of childhood in the '60s and '70s and the Led Zep--and it got us pretty excited about the impending release of Blood, Bones, and Butter, not to mention a Prune pilgrimage.

Near the end of March, we decided to make a last-minute trip to New York for Michelle's birthday. It was Saturday morning, the day before we were scheduled to leave, and we were brainstorming about things we wanted to do while we were there. We knew we wanted to be in the East Village on Sunday night--there was a concert there that night that we wanted to catch. "The concert's at 8:00. Should we eat before? Where should we go?" "I know," Michelle exclaimed, "Prune!" Yeah, right. As if... But we did want to eat early. Hmmm... Nothing to lose from calling, right? So we did. And sure enough they were booked up. But then the woman on the other line revealed a little secret.

"How many are you?"

"Two."

"We always keep a table for two open for walk-ins, and you can't reserve the seats at the bar."

We liked where she was going with this.

"We open at 5:30. If you show up right at 5:30, I can pretty much guarantee you'll get seated--either at a table or at the bar."

"Pretty much guarantee..."? Perfect. We'd make sure to be there right a 5:30.

It worked like a charm. We showed up at 5:15, and by 5:30 we were seated at a very small, very cozy table in the very small, very cozy space that is Prune. The Velvet Underground's Loaded was roaring over the stereo. The room was filled with a golden, late-afternoon light. We couldn't have been happier. We took a quick look at the menu to get our bearings, ordered a bottle of Frappato on the recommendation of our waitress, and made our final deliberations.

fig. b: wine

Prune's menu is simple, elemental, and ever so tempting. We wanted to try everything, but settled on just a few choices.

Marrow bones to begin with.

fig. c: bones

(Hamilton describing her mother's kitchen: "Her burnt-orange Le Creuset pots and casseroles, scuffed and blackened, were always filled with tails, claws, and marrow-filled bones that she was stewing or braising on the back three burners.")

Then a grilled lamb chop with skordalia, a whole grilled striped bass stuffed with fennel and herbs,

fig. d: fish

and leeks vinaigrette with mimosaed eggs (again, just like Hamilton's mom used to make).

We felt so good after that meal, we strutted out of Prune and into a surprisingly warm early-spring evening in the East Village. And twenty minutes later we were immersed in the psych-folk sounds of Metal Mountains.

fig. e: 2/3 metal mountains

A couple of hours after that, we found ourselves at Rai Rai Ken again,

fig. f: inside Rai Rai Ken

not so much because we were hungry, but because we were in New York, and the night was young.

We ate a lot of great things while we were in New York, but the simple elegance of that meal at Prune was particularly memorable. I'd even go so far as to say that it left Michelle positively Prune-obsessed. Maybe a little too Prune-obsessed.

You see, I had it on good authority that she had a copy of Blood, Bones, and Butter in her future. But she was so Prune-obsessed that she wanted it now. My feigned indifference must have tipped her off, because she really started pressing buttons.

"I really want to read Blood, Bones, and Butter. Should I buy it right now? Should I order it? What do you think? Should I get it now? I should get it now."

I've gotten pretty good at withstanding these barrages, but this time I crumbled. "No, probably best to hold off on that one, honey."

Wouldn't you know it? The pressing of buttons subsided. And, sure enough, Michelle got her copy of Blood, Bones, and Butter a couple of days later.

She made quick work of it. Almost as quick as that meal at Prune. For a couple of days, there it was, sitting on her bedside table.

fig. g: blood, bones, butter, boris

And then it was gone. The verdict? Particularly memorable.

Now it's on my bedside table.

Prune, 54 East 1st St., # 1, New York, NY, (212) 677-6221

For more about Blood, Bones, and Butter, check out Hamilton's book-related website.

aj

* Apparently, there were many of these elaborate affairs, including an exotic Moroccan party, a "Valentine's Day Lovers' Dinner that featured a swan motif prominently because, as her father explained, "Swans mate for life," and a Russian Winter Ball styled after the ice palace scene from Doctor Zhivago (naturally).

New York Winterlude 2, rev. ed.

Day 2 of our Winterlude began with us roughing it on breakfast (we packed a makeshift Schaller & Weber sausage special), and hitting the pavement. I had some business to attend to, so I dragged Michelle on an architectural tour of Lower Manhattan that began with us emerging from the subway underneath the Municipal Building,

fig. a: up from the underground

and focused on an area around the intersection of Broadway and Wall Street.

fig. b: cloud-scrapers of New York

It also involved me posing Michelle in front of locations from old films and tempting her with hot dog carts.


figs. c & d: Wall Street

By lunchtime, we'd made our way back to Midtown and had the time to check out Raymond Hood's News Building en route to a lunch date Michelle had arranged for us.

fig. e: under the Hood

I'd read a fair bit about Tudor City over the years, but I'd never seen it up close until this visit, in February 2009.

fig. f: cloud-scrapers of Midtown

It took a reservation at Michael White's Convivio to finally get up close and personal with Fred C. French's strange Tudor Modern (Early Modern Modern?).

fig. g: Early Modern Mod

New York magazine described White as "the Mario of Midtown." As much as we may be big fans of Mario Batali's cookbooks, we wouldn't know. One visit to Batali's Otto hardly seems like enough of a measuring stick. What we can tell you, however, is that Convivio is a true jewel.

fig. h: the writing is on the wall

In fact, it's quite likely the finest Italian restaurant either of us has ever visited. Expert antipasti featuring house salumi, a supernaturally plump, juicy grilled quail appetizer, homemade pasta with crab and a truly luscious sea urchin-based sauce, and a utterly superior grilled bistecca were just some of the pleasures of one of our absolute top meals of 2010.

The lowdown:

sfizi: marinated shitaakes, mellow pickled cucumbers, spicy olives w/ spicy salami, burrata with tomatoes and herbed oil w/ toasts

antipasto: grilled quail skewer, bacon, onions, shitakes, chives, vin cotto

primi: cod-stuffed ravioli, many egg-yolk pasta, sausage, rapini, herbed oil; saffron gnocchetti, crab, sea urchin, breadcrumbs

secondo: bistecca, grilled, w/ winter vegetables (carrots, brussels sprouts leaves, etc.) and a peppery wine sauce

dessert: lemon semifreddo, pistachio sablé, candied pistachios, acacia honey wafer, candied citrus peel, acacia honey ring with vanilla bean

fig. i: Convivio dreaming

And while on this particular occasion we'd decided to cut loose and splurge a little, we realized that lunch at Convivio had the potential to be very affordable indeed. Portions were surprisingly generous, and we pictured ourselves returning and having a (transcendental) pasta lunch at Convivio's bar.

fig. j: exterior, Bonnie Slotnick

As you know, we've scoured other New York bastions of culinary arts & letters before, but, oddly, this was the first time we'd visited Bonnie Slotnick. Not for lack of trying, though. We'd tried to visit on two or three occasions, but had always managed to swing by on days where the store happened to be closed (in spite of its well-deserved notoriety, Bonnie Slotnick remains a very small operation, so hours can be irregular).

fig. k: interior, Bonnie Slotnick

Anyway, we were happy to finally get a chance to explore Bonnie Slotnick. Not surprisingly, we found plenty of material to keep us occupied and broaden our horizons, so we ended up spending about two hours there. We also had a long conversation with the chatty, gracious clerk (Bonnie passed through at one point to drop off her latest haul of books, but otherwise she was on the hunt). We could have easily spent another two hours. It felt like a home away from home.

fig. l: electric Company

That night we met R & M at Jim “Our pies are not always round" Lahey's (then) newly opened Company (a.k.a. Co., but not to be confused with David Chang's Ko). We'd heard great things, our Sullivan Street slices the day before had gotten us good and primed, and Co. didn't let us down in the least. Okay, so the pies weren't always round, but we found them perfectly cooked with great structure and just the right amount of blistering, with a tomato sauce that was tangy and bright, and toppings that were novel without being too "fusion." As is so often the case with top-notch pizza (and the pies we had that night were definitely top-notch), the simplest pies are often the most satisfying. So, for instance, as much as we appreciated Co.'s Flambé, with béchamel, lardons, and caramelized onions, it was their Margherita that really stood out for us. In fact, Co.'s margherita was so lovely, so perfect, we opted for a second one "for dessert." We loved the space, the service, and the buzz of the place too.

The lowdown:

appetizers: pizza bianca; toasts, e.g. with lemony chicken liver paté; butter lettuce salad w/ roasted squash, pumpkin seeds, lemon, olive oil

mains: 2 x margherita; 1 pie w/ anchovies, green olives, olive oil, tomatoes; 1 "santo" w/ shaved radicchio, parmesan, taleggio, mozzarella; 1 special w/ bechamel, leek, spicy sausage

desert: homemade blood orange gelato; homemade chocolate gelato; a generous banana split w/ homemade ice cream and candied walnuts

We haven't to spend a lot of time on this stretch of 9th Avenue when we visit New York, but, here too, we swore we'd be back.

Convivio, 5 Tudor City Pl., New York, NY, (212) 599-5045

Bonnie Slotnick Cookbooks, 163 W 10th St # Ge, New York, NY, (212) 989-8962

Company, a.k.a. Co., 230 9th Ave., New York, NY (212) 243-1105

aj