AfterTaste (by Sherry)

Bern’s Steak House
1208 S. Howard Avenue
Tampa, FL 33606
(813) 251-2421

As I mentioned at the end of my Momofuku Ko post (let’s see how many times I can link to that before it gets lame and obscure), I recently went to Tampa, FL for a little self-imposed Spring Break. Matt had an actual one and I used it as an excuse to take off a few days myself. Not a Girls-Gone-Wild, ‘zongs in the wind, STD swapping type Spring Break (I’m too old for that), but rather a relax in the sun, learn how to golf, eat well, grill outdoors, and read Toobin’s The Nine type Spring Break. That’s just how Matt and I roll. Like 70 year old retirees.

And we love it.

Golf was fun. Matt bought me my first Yankees cap at Legends Field (now known as Steinbrenner Field) before the Spring Training game we caught. Beach was pleasant. Weather was gorgeous, but let’s call a spade a spade. I was most excited for our meal at the famous Bern’s Steak House.

When we first decided to go to Tampa (his grandfather has a vacation home there) back in February, the first things we thought of were our meals, which nights we’d cook, which nights we’d eat out, where, etc. Matt began to tell me about this magical, mystical steak house called Bern’s where the wine menu totaled approximately 150 pages, the food menu was 18 pages, and there was a separate room for desserts. I was transfixed by these tales and we immediately made a reservation.

When you enter the restaurant, you form two immediate impressions: 1) you’ve walked into the interior design lovechild of Louis XIV and a New Orleans whore house and 2) you’re somewhere quite fancy pants for typically laid back Tampa. It’s dim inside with all dark red and gold and mirrors, and, although the restaurant has at least four separate sizable dining rooms (plus one dessert room), the place is quite quiet without having that uptight library hush most upscale joints possess.

Now me being the person that I am, I had already read through the 18 page menu several times, so we already had a good idea of what we were getting. In fact, we knew exactly what we were getting. From the massive steak chart, we had chosen the 1 3/4″, 19 oz. strip sirloin for two, medium rare, of course. Each steak comes with a mixed salad, onion rings, carrots, baked potato, French onion soup, and a vegetable “tasting” that changes daily. On our day, it was sauteed string beans.

Did I mention that all the produce comes from Bern’s own gigantic organic farm? Also that they have a 500 gallon (or something like that) fish tank for all their seafood? That they have a separate room for dessert and after dinner drinks? And that they have the largest private collection of wine in the WORLD? Yes, the world.

After a starter of delicious oysters (from both coasts) served with an astounding truffle mignonette, cocktail sauce, green Tabasco granita, and horseradish sorbet, we moved on to our little silver bowls of soup, which were average, but tasty. After that were our mixed salads, Matt’s with a fairly impressive wasabi green goddess dressing and mine with one bowl of that and one bowl of the macadamia nut vanilla vinaigrette. Unfortunately for my savory-loving tastebuds, the vanilla vinaigrette could (and should) have been served over apple pie.

Then came the main event: the steak. Brought to our table whole, the steak was divided up in front of us by our kind, albeit constantly panting, waiter.

The steak was a touch more rare than medium rare, but we’re not the complaining type and don’t really mind rare meat so we didn’t say anything.

The strip sirloin also came with a portion of filet mignon to round off the 19 ounces of steak that we were promised because they cut the inedible tail off the strip, but feel the need to replace those lost ounces with some filet. A little nutty and completely unnecessary, right? Yeah, that pretty much explains the entire experience at Bern’s, right down to the five million complimentary side dishes and a piano player with a phone for request calls (coming from phones in the dessert booths).

The steak was tender and delicious, but I would have appreciated it cooked a shade more. We then opted to take the kitchen tour after our entrees, but before dessert. Each station in the vast kitchen was pointed out to us quickly by a nervous, but courteous waiter-in-training, including the salad station and the cheese “caves” (walk-in refrigerators). We were then passed off to one of the sommeliers (also nervous, but polite) who took us into the frigid wine cellar and showed us rows upon rows of floor to ceiling shelves filled with thousands of bottles, the oldest of which dated back to the late 1700’s, the most expensive of which was approximately $10,000. The wine collection is so huge that most of it is stored in a warehouse next door though.

Next, we mounted some stairs to the Harry Waugh Dessert Room. You can read all about Harry in the dessert menu. Something about Bern having had dessert and coffee in Waugh the wine genius’s drawing room once. For dessert, I had a key lime pie, which turned out to be more like a lime tart with a buttery crust covered in a mountain of whipped cream. Not quite key lime pie, but still deliciously light and citrus-y. Matt had some outrageous peanut butter chocolate chip pie cake concoction.

We were in the room with the aforementioned piano player who looked like that sadistic French instructor, Mr. Cleary, from School Ties. You knowwww, the jerk who drives McGivern crazy because he can’t recite the monologue and then the (hot) guys seek revenge by somehow placing his precious car in the teacher’s apartment?

Remember him!?

Our own piano playing Mr. Cleary

He played everything from Piano Man to Margharitaville. It was entertaining and weird. Made all the weirder by the decor of this area of the restaurant that looked like the inside of a Ranch-style house from the 1970’s (lots of dark wood, amber colored lamps, red leather, bricks).

This restaurant is full of a lot of gimmicks and odd touches, but that’s where its charm lies. Gimmicks like the piano man phone and the plastic covered toilets (press the green button and a new sheath of plastic comes sliding on counter clockwise while the old plastic slides back into the machine):

Despite the sometimes inexplicable decor, the slightly overbearing service, and, in our case, the undercooked steak, a good time was had by all. An expensive good time, sure, but it’s quite an experience to sit down to all these options, a veritable cornucopia laid at your feet, just for one gluttonous evening.

Dinner for Two:

• 12 Oysters - $35.95
• 19 oz. Strip Sirloin for Two - $75.42
• Bottle of Red - $49
• Key Lime Pie - $8
• Peanut Butter Choc. Chip Pie - $9
• Espresso - $4
• Total (excluding tax and tip) = $181.37

What’s the surprise, you ask? The Easter surprise is that I’m celebrating Easter with Matt and his family and, surprise!, I’m not Christian. Worry not, they’re fully aware of this fact, but are kind enough to include this Pagan in their family traditions anyway.

Naturally, I am skipping the church service, but will be there for the meal with a lovely side dish in hand. When I first began thinking of Easter, my mind jumped immediately to Spring despite the fact that it remains 35-45 degrees outside. As I thought of Spring, I thought of asparagus.

Few things remind me of Spring more than the lovely snap and tender flavor of those verdant stalks. From there the ideas just flowed. I wanted to make an asparagus salad, but the problem I have with asparagus salads sometimes is that they are too singularly noted, too “green” tasting and insufficiently complex.

So I sought advice from my book, Culinary Artistry by Andrew Dornenburg and Karen Page. Through interviews with some of the most prominent chefs such as Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Alice Waters, the book speaks at length about dish composition and flavor pairings. I came up with a salad of boiled asparagus with roasted wild mushrooms sprinkled with thyme and a tarragon, roasted garlic vinaigrette.

All afternoon I’ve been debating whether I should add anchovies to the dressing or if I should add hard boiled eggs. Both of these are flavors that combine clasically with some central element of the dish (hard boiled eggs and asparagus, anchovies and asparagus and anchovies and garlic). I don’t want to fall victim to overwhelming the already strong flavors of the asparagus, thyme, and tarragon.

Well, we’ll see. I’m sure the Easter bunny will inspire me at the eleventh hour.

Momofuku Ko
163 First Avenue (Bet. 10th and 11th Streets)
No Phone - Make Reservations Here

David Chang is a genius.

Let me repeat that. David Chang is a genius.

I was worried after I posted my review of Momofuku Ssam Bar that I had exaggerated Chang’s talents or that I was rhapsodizing about something that I had really only had limited exposure to. The answers to those concerns are: I didn’t and I was, but I was right anyway, so who cares.

Last night, as a belated birthday surprise, Zachary, my wonderful gourmand of a friend, told me to meet him at Union Square. Indeed, I met him there and after the customary hugs and kisses, he linked my arm and suggested we take a stroll around the neighborhood and see what could be scrounged up for dinner.

We began walking east, which fueled my belief that somehow Zack had procured reservations at Momofuku Ko. How did I know Zack was going to take me to Momofuku Ko? Well, for one, Momofuku Ko has been all over the place this week as it just opened to the public on Wednesday, March 12, so it had already been on my mind. Secondly, I went to Momofuku Ssam Bar for the first time with Zack at Zack’s suggestion. Thirdly, he’s amazingly fabulous and has wonderful taste in food. Fourth of all, I’m psychic.

To make a long story short, he turned us around in circles a few times all over the East Village until I didn’t know what to think and then finally after a 1/2 hr of wandering we wound up at, you guessed it, MOMOFUKU KO!

When I realized, I shrieked, hit Zack on the shoulder, grinned like a murderous clown, shrieked some more and then composed myself as we walked into the tiny space that was once Momofuku Noodle Bar, now transplanted down the block. The atmosphere was as you’d expect from Chang and a 14-stool counter: fun and simple with funky selections playing from an (probably a chef’s) iPod, creating a Zen-like ambiance.

I could not believe we were actually sitting here one day after it had opened. I continued grinning as the hostess/waitress put a small, black moleskine notebook in front of us. Zack thought we got to keep it, but we didn’t; although that didn’t stop someone from stealing one later in the evening (overheard from the hostesses/waitresses). Inside the first few pages of the notebook was the wine selection, the only selecting you’ll be doing at Momofuku Ko, unless, like us, you opt for the wine pairing, in which case the only decisions you’ll be making are how quickly you inhale the food and when you visit the bathroom.

Our 11 course (if you include the two amuse-bouches) meal began with a piece of crispy, thin pork rind sprinkled with some Japanese dried spice.

Quick Side Note: The acoustics in the place are horrendous, so listen hard when the chefs plunk the plates in front of you and don’t hesitate to ask them to repeat it. Same goes for the waitress/hostess/sommelier ladies (only 2 of them). This will help explain why there are some things that I’ll have to just describe as “yummy, salty, brown paste-y stuff.”

We were served a Rose Lambrusco first. I’ve had plenty of Lambrusco in my day and appreciate it for various reasons, the main ones being that it’s fruity and bubbly, but this was drier and more crisp than the cheap, 5 euro bottles I had back in Italy. Therefore, the Rose version made it a perfect wine for me.

The pork rinds, of course, tasted like the best pork rinds you’ve ever eaten and thought never could even exist in the realm of fried pork skin. It actually managed to be…dainty and delicate. But, I mean, it’s a pork rind, so I was thinking, let’s move on to the main show.

The second dish dropped in front of us was a housemade English muffin with whipped pork fat. This was very comforting, toasted, spongy bread soaked with yummy grease. But again, just bread and butter essentially.

The third course consisted of slices of raw fluke from Long Island with whipped (they like to whip things here) buttermilk and poppy seeds. The buttermilk was light with a faint tartness that elevated the richness of the fish. The poppy seeds gave it an unexpected peppery pop. A delicious, beautifully simple, clean dish.

This lovely plate was served with a Sancerre from the Loire Valley. “100% Sauvignon Blanc grapes” as the waitress continually reminded us. It was light and crisp and went well with the clean flavors of the fish. I might end up confusing the order of some of the wines. Pardon my blunders.

The next dish was slices of Berkshire pork belly and two raw Beau Soleil oysters over Napa cabbage in a kimchee consomme. Now this, this is what I was expecting from Chang; and, yet, it was still entirely unexpected. Throughout the pork rinds and English muffins, this creative dish is what I was waiting for, but I could have never known it would be this good. The consomme was dark and deeply flavorful. The oysters were briny and slippery. The pork meat was savory and hearty, but the real highlight of the dish for me was the pork fat. I, like many, have generally tried to avoid eating large hunks of pure pork fat. I find it not only mentally unappetizing, but also physically unappetizing with its glossy, opaque chewiness. When I got to that part, after I had sliced off and eaten the meat, I shrugged, grinned, and bore it. With the price tag of this meal, I was leaving nothing on the plate.

These pieces of pork fat literally melted in my mouth. As soon as it touched your tongue, it was halfway out the door. It had the consistency of denser whipped cream and broke down just as smoothly as a mouthful of whipped cream would. It was unbelievable.

This was served alongside Okuden sake, a sweet sake that did that neat disappearing trick good sake always does.

Next up: hen egg over onions garnished with potato chips and an obscene mountain of (what I assume was) Osetra caviar. This dish was the star of the entire evening. Hell, it was the star of the month. The egg is sliced open with the silky, lusty yolk flowing out and under the salty, fishy caviar. These ultra rich flavors are tempered by the sweet, sweet onions and the starchy potato chips. Each bite worked with every element being on the spoon and even with only individual parts of the dish sitting on the spoon. Achieving that is pure genius and pure madness.

I think that was served with the “indie” (as the sommelier described it), 100% Sauvignon Blanc grapes wine from California, but I can’t swear to that.

Ooh, boy. This is gonna be a long post.

Moving on. Next came scallops and manila clams over fennel and red wine vinegar garnished with sea beans alongside a pile of crisp nori and a streak of aforementioned “yummy, salty, brown paste-y stuff.” The relative simplicity of this plate was a pleasant break from the culinary acrobatics of the pork belly and the egg dishes. You can’t go on for too many dishes like that, you’ll just keel over and die. The scallops and clams were tender and the nori brought out the salty sea taste in them.

I think this dish was served with a Crozes-Hermitage. A dry wine the sommelier described as “funky” to my and Zack’s amusement. We were also glad she didn’t call this one “indie” as well.

The next dish blew and CONTINUES, even now as I write this in the comfort of my own living room, to blow my mind. This dish is the best demonstration of David Chang’s talents. He takes ingredients and puts them together in a way that makes you think it could never work. This man is insane. This is absurd. THIS CAN’T BE.

But it can and it is. It be. So sit down and wrap your head around this. A bed of lychees, a Riesling gelee, and pine nut brittle covered in snow cone-like shavings of…foie gras. Yes, you heard me lychee and foie gras. Of course, foie gras is often served with fruit, but usually some assertive ones like cherries or cranberries, not the mild mannered, laid back lychee.

Whyyyyyyy does this taste good? It SHOULDN’T. But it is at this point in the meal when you learn to surrender yourself to Chang and just say, “alright, alright, fine, I trust you, I get it, you’re fab, what’s next, man.”

The brittle is pine nut, not peanut, so it’s sweet, but not overpoweringly strong in flavor. The gelee contributes more texturally than flavor-wise. The foie is salty and, similar to some of the other elements of this meal, dissolves on your tongue like the snowflakes that it imitates.

This dish was served with a lychee tasting Kamekome sake that I would gladly drink with any light Japanese dish.

From this delicate dish, we were taken to a heavier meat dish of braised and fried short ribs with pickled carrots, grilled scallions, daikon, and a mustard sauce. Here comes the only minor, minor, minor, minorrrrrr complaint of the night. The dish overall was delicious and my appreciation of it grew over the course of my eating the dish; however, my short ribs were a touch dry, justttt a touch. Zack said his were fine, so who knows. It was still delish, especially with the pickled carrots.

The beef was served with a Rioja that I enjoyed a surprising amount considering I don’t typically like Rioja at all.

Come on, stay with me now. Almost done. Let us trudge on with curious stomachs and brave hearts!

The miso soup with pickled vegetables and a grilled roll of rice was a clever, clean way of easing the transition between heavy, savory meat and sweet dessert. Not too much to report on with this dish except that I loved the not too sour pickled veggies with the not too salty miso soup and the comforting saltiness and smokiness of the grilled rice. It was a soft, smooth landing from the previous culinary flights of fancy.

I don’t remember what wine this was served with. It’s very difficult to keep track of, plus, I was getting just a wee bit hazy at this point (not just from all the wines, but the long day too).

Leading us into dessertwas a sorbet of very, very ripe pineapple atop a pile of candied pineapples, a very nice palate cleanser.

The very last course was a fried apple pie with sour ice cream and miso paste. Again, this dish emphasizes Chang’s trademark balance of flavors and textures. The sweet, sweet apple filling (with very low acidity, the way I like it) with the salty, earthy miso and the tangy, milky ice cream. The pie was hot and crisp with a thin coating of crunchy cinnamon sugar. The filling was warm and oozing. The ice cream was cold. A wonderful apple pie reminiscent of, and I mean no offense whatsoever, a McDonald’s apple pie; well, like a McDonald’s apple pie that went to finishing school and came back to its hometown in piles of pearls, a pair of expensive jeans, and a funky cardigan.

This was paired with a carbonated Banyuls from the Catalan region. It doesn’t come carbonated, so Chang, the bad ass, adds his own carbonation. Its bubbly apple cider-like appearance belies its very strong alcohol flavor.

That’s it. I think I’ve sufficiently done my duty as a food blogger here. I had planned this whole wrap up paragraph about why I love Chang so much, how I greatly appreciate his crazy contrasting ways because of growing up on Thai food, how my favorite dishes in the world combine different flavor elements and different textures, but I’m spent.

And I really need to get to bed to catch my 7:30am flight to Tampa, FL tomorrow. Why am I going to Tampa, you ask? You’ll just have to wait for my next post for the answer to that one.

Dinner for Two:

• Wine Pairing ($50 x 2) = $100
• Tasting Menu ($85 x 2) = $170
• Total (excluding tax and tip) = $270

And worth every penny.

This has to be brief because I have to leave for work in about negative twenty minutes, but I had to put this out there.

Last night, my beloved culinary partner in crime, Zack, took me out for my birthday and I had one of the most phenomenal meals of my life. A bit belated, I know, but he more than made up for it with his persistent, relentless, stubborn refreshing on the Momofuku Ko website. The brand new restaurant that only opened to the public Wednesday, March 12, has no telephone in the restaurant (well I’m sure there’s one somewhere, but not in the front by the “hostess” station). They only accept reservations online at their website. They also only accept them one week in advance. Frustrating, sure, but at least it gives you a fighting chance of securing a rezzy before 2010.

So for my surprise birthday dinner, Zack took me to Momofuku Ko. I’d like to say ”for the tasting menu” (they slide a plate in front of you, briefly and sometimes gruffly explain what it is and you eat it, no questions asked), but that connotes other options. It is the only option, take it or leave it. We also ordered the accompanying wine pairing (pay additional for the pairing, but unlike the rest of the menu, it is not mandatory to do so). I had a sneaking suspicion he was taking me there, but only in that way where your wildest fantasy surfaces and an insane part of you believes that fantasy may actually come true. Rarely does it, but this time, despite his leading me east, then uptown, then east, then downtown, then east, then west, then back east, my suspicions were confirmed when we came upon the tiny, obscure door on First Avenue. The only indication of what lay behind is a tiny, plucky little peach in the center of the glass door.

No time to write the entire review right now, but I will be getting to it by the end of the day, believe you me. A preview: it was mind blowingly fantastic.

Don’t believe I actually went? Here’s proof:

PS -Did I mention Chang himself was there? He gave my camera a bit of a glare (or glance, not sure), but that’s okay. What a rock star.

In an effort to push myself out of my comfort zone, I’ve tried being a little more adventurous in the kitchen. What’s the point of all my learning, researching, Food Network watching, and cookbook reading if I’m just gonna prepare the same things day in and day out?

One thing that I love, but very rarely (until now) make at home is steak. I would always think steaks are too expensive, I don’t have a grill, I don’t know much about the different cuts, I can’t, I won’t, I don’t, I shan’t…blah, blah, blah and on and on and on. I’m great at the excuses, but I knew that, in reality, none of that was actually true and I was gonna do some investigating to figure out how I could eat steak in the comfort of my own home. Plus, it’s not like eating steak out is so affordable either.

So I decided to write this little tutorial on steak.

Welcome to Steak 101.

Some basics about steak to consider are cost, fat content (or “marbling”), keeping it juicy, how to cook it, and how/when to cut it.

Some equipment you’ll need to do a good job: decent sized cutting board, heavy bottomed skillet of some sort or a grill/grill pan, tongs, and a decent knife (either a carving knife or chef’s knife or, if you’re serving individual steaks, steak knives).

Levels of “Doneness”:

• Raw: (Not cooked at all) Usually chopped up or sliced, like in steak tartare or carpaccio
• Rare: (Core temperature of 119-121 Degrees) Outside appears brownish, gray-ish and middle is still bright red
• Medium Rare: (Core temp of 125-127 Degrees) Outside is nicely browned and middle is reddish, with a rim of pink; most typical level of doneness in steakhouses
• Medium: (Core temp of 133-135 Degrees) Middle is deeply pink
• Medium Well: (Core temp of 143-145 Degrees) Middle is light pink
• Well Done: (Core temp of 166-170 Degrees) Steak is completely cooked through and through with no pinkness and definitely no redness; might get you spit on if ordered in an American steakhouse (or at the very least a questioning eyebrow raise)

Relevant Terms/Cooking Methods:

1. Marbling - The vein-y white fat that runs through meat and melts away when cooked (meaning not the huge, thick slabs of fat you cut away as you eat the steak); more marbling is usually desired as it ensures flavor and tenderness
2. Pan Searing - Process of sealing juices into the meat to provide a more lusciously melt-in-your-mouth steak. This is accomplished by smearing the pan with a coating of vegetable or Canola oil, heating up a skillet (can be cast iron or non-stick or plain metal) over the highest heat possible. Once it’s so hot it’s almost smoking, put the meat in, leaving it completely alone (no shuffling it around with your tongs) for (depending on the thickness of the meat) anywhere from 3 - 8 minutes. Pick up a side of it just to peek for color. Once a brilliantly dark brown crust has formed, flip and sear the other side for a minute or two less. For thinner cuts like hanger and skirt, this is enough to cook the steak to a perfect medium/medium-rare. For thicker cuts like sirloin or filet mignon you may have to finish the cooking in the oven (see below).
3. Broiling - For some thicker steaks that are too thick to cook all the way through using the pan searing method, you can first pan sear and then stick the steak under the broiler (transfer to a baking pan if you used a non-stick skillet to sear it in the first place, non-stick cannot go into the oven). The broiler consists of heat from above which will help cook the middle of the meat without drying out the seared outside. You can also throw steaks straight into the broiler to cook (a flank steak, for example).
4. USDA Prime, USDA Choice, USDA Select - Grade of meat from best quality to lowest, mainly based on marbling, color, and texture.

Different Cuts of Steak:

1. Sirloin - A generally very lean cut, pretty pricey; consists of a “top” and “bottom”. Top sirloin is more tender and more expensive. Bottom sirloin is less tender, bigger, and is usually what you get when the butcher doesn’t specify whether the sirloin is top or bottom.
2. Filet Mignon - A very tender, very, very lean piece of the tenderloin, usually contradictory features in the world of beef, but alas, that’s why its unique combo jacks up the price. Typically, it is the cut of choice for skinny-minny female meat eaters across the country, meaning it is super lean and tender, but where that lack of fat shows itself is in the fact that it’s not the most flavorful of steaks. For this reason, it will often be accompanied by a sauce or wrapped in bacon.
3. New York Strip - Also, very expensive cut as it is one of the more desirable cuts for its tenderness. Also known as “Delmonico” or entrecôte.
4. T-Bone -Aside from being a cool nickname, T-bone is a very large and, therefore, very expensive cut with the eponymous t-shaped bone; kind of a 2-for-1 since it actually consists of two other cuts: the strip and the tenderloin (the 2-for-1 is another reason this steak is so pricey). Best suited for quick cooking like broiling.
5. Porterhouse - Like a larger T-bone, it, too, consists of the strip and tenderloin on either side of a t-shaped bone, but the tenderloin is thicker. Also like the T-bone, very pricey and delicious broiling.
6. Rib Eye - Pretty expensive cut (sensing a theme here?) for its especially extensive marbling and, therefore, flavor and tender texture. Called rib eye because it is cut from the beef rib and it can be served with the bone or boneless.
7. Hanger - Cut from the diaphragm, this steak is tougher than more premium cuts like strip and sirloin and, consequently, hanger is much more affordable, but what it lacks in tenderness, it makes up for in flavor. Hanger steak is characterized by a very long, stringy grain that requires quick cooking and slicing against the grain so each bite is very tender. It can benefit from a marinade of some kind, but, in my opinion, does not require one.
8. Skirt - Another affordable, flavorful, but tougher cut of steak. Looks similar to the hanger, but narrower and less marbled. The meat comes from the rib cage. Cooks very quickly and, if cut against the grain, it can also be tender. This cut is also used for most fajitas.
9. Flank - This cut comes from the cow’s stomach and is also known as “London broil.” Like the skirt and hanger, flank steak is very affordable compared to other cuts. Because it’s a well worked muscle, it is probably the toughest of all the cuts mentioned here, but with a long, tenderizing marinade, quick cooking, and, again, slicing against the grain, this steak has absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

Most importantly, as Matt’s dad, Mr. C, always reminds Matt, remember that once you take the steak off the heat, there is carry over cooking time, meaning the steak is so hot it will continue to cook a bit on its own. Take this into account when timing the doneness of your meat.

Lastly, do not serve or slice the steak the minute it comes off the grill/out of the pan/out of the oven. All the juices will pour out. Wait at least 15 minutes before serving or slicing and your patience will be rewarded.

That ends Steak 101 for today. Stay tuned for Steak 102 in the future where I’ll write about my own adventures in steak-land and give you recipes for some great side dishes.

Levain Bakery
167 West 74th Street (Between Amsterdam and Columbus Avenues)
(212) 874-6080

I don’t say it often. In fact, I’ve only said it one other time on this blog.

It took me awhile to get there…and actually, now that I think about it, I still haven’t really gotten there. A kind friend, Dan, volunteered to pop into Levain Bakery for me and some other friends. He lives in the neighborhood and that day, for some reason, I was hell bent on getting to Levain, but didn’t have time to stop by before it closed at 7pm. “What is your obsession with these cookies?!” Matt kept asking me. I was sick and tired of waiting to get to these cookies that I had heard so much about. I trudged to Dan’s apartment on that snowy, icy Friday evening (and broke my ass on the slippery sidewalk along the way) to pick up the cookies.

Of the four varieties (chocolate chip walnut, peanut butter chocolate chip, dark chocolate chocolate chip, and oatmeal raisin), I had Dan pick me up two chocolate chip walnut and two dark chocolate chocolate chip ones (not all for me).

I’d heard a lot about these cookies, but after seeing Bobby Flay’s chocolate chip cookie “Throwdown”* on Food Network, I couldn’t get them out of my head! I don’t even live far away from it, them, whatever. Enough was enough! Unfortunately, I was so full from dinner Friday that I didn’t get to them until the next day, but, damn, were they worth the wait (and weight, at an estimated 800-900 calories each).

See that uncooked middle? Perfection.

The chocolate chip walnut was not too sweet because of the rich walnuts. The sheer size of the cookies (6 ounces, aka nearly half a pound) is enough to overwhelm and awe. As they cook, they spread, but they start off as such huge softball sized lumps that even after a good baking they emerge the size and shape of a scone with a perfectly crisp outside and a doughy, chewy, creamy middle. It almost tastes floury, but in the best way possible. This also seems to help the cookie be not too sweet.

The dark chocolate chocolate chip tastes like a chocolate chip brownie. It has that familiar fudge-y texture in the middle, but denser. The outside is a little less crisp than the chocolate chip walnut is. I’m not sure if this was due to the additional chocolate in the batter or because the cookies had been rolling around the bottom of my bag for nearly two days. These are best with milk, but I discovered later that they’re delectable even without it.

Bottom line: you have to experience these lumps of virtuosity for yourself. Yes, at $3.50, they’re a little pricey, but one’s enough for two people to share if you’re on a tight cookie budget. I dare you to stop yourself from eating the whole thing though.

*For the record, I despise the premise of that show; tricking unsuspecting, usually small time, cooks and chefs into thinking Food Network’s producing a special on them and then Bobby Flay popping up and trying to beat these cooks and chefs at their one specialty…what a jerk.

Lunetta
920 Broadway (Southeast Corner of 21st)
(212) 533-3663

Following the trajectory of many yuppy social climbers, but not many restaurants, Lunetta’s trail leads from Brooklyn to Manhattan. The first Lunetta is located in Brooklyn on Smith Street. In November 2007, the second Lunetta opened on Broadway in the Flatiron District to some shaky reviews in the New York Times Diner’s Journal, likely a bit of a shock considering the popularity of the original Brooklyn branch. It’s been about three and a half months since it’s opened and it seems to me this restaurant is slowly, but surely getting its bearings and nestling in comfortably in its new home on a trendy corner on Broadway.

I went on a Wednesday with my girlfriends, Pri and Kaitlin. The restaurant was relatively empty when I first arrived at 7pm, but by the time we left at around 9pm, it seemed like almost every table was occupied.

Upon entering Lunetta, you’ll first notice the elegant, yet eclectic decor. Presided over by richly green plants and leaf patterned wallpaper, marble tabletops and leather banquettes sit underneath clusters of 1970s-esque globular hanging lamps. The space, in short, is perplexingly divine.

The bruschetta, in its own separate section, seems to be a specialty of the house. On this occasion we tried three: the tuna, the chopped liver, and the ricotta with hazelnuts. The tuna was firm, yet flaky with a hint of acidity from the tomatoes and olives. Kaitlin acutely observed that the tuna would have benefited from more olives for added punch.

The ricotta was smooth, citrusy from lemon zest, and crunchy from the hazelnuts. I thought that overall it was a creative dish, but needed more contrasts in flavor to liven it, perhaps with the addition of bright herbs or a sprinkle of lemon juice. It was Pri’s favorite by far. She marveled at its simultaneously sweet and savory flavors.

For Kaitlin and me, it was all about the chopped liver. I’ve never been a huge chopped liver fan, turned off by it in high school when my mom brought home some from the Second Avenue Deli (at that time actually on 2nd Ave). She urged me to try it and like a good little girl I did, immediately made a face, and declared, “it tastes like feet.” Since then I’ve tended to avoid it, but my experience with chopped liver crostini in Florence was fairly pleasant so I gave this bruschetta a try. It was sublimely delicious. Its deep, rich, darkly complex flavor finished with a hint of smokiness. The texture was dense with a seemingly contradictory whipped airiness. Kaitlin and I fought over the last lump.

The fried artichoke appetizer satisfied that little part (in my case, not so little) inside all of us that craves salty, crispy, fried things, but it wasn’t exactly what I had expected. The way it was described made it sound like there would be crunchy whole artichoke leaves, but instead it was shards (some kind of sharp) of artichoke and fried herbs dressed with a splash of citrus. A tip: don’t eat the herbs, I think they were sage. They were too bitter and pungent and I think its purpose was to flavor the dish with its aroma rather than be consumed. The mound was fun to pick at, but at $12 I thought it a tad overpriced.

The fennel beet salad was spiced with ground cumin which was unexpected, albeit this time in a very pleasant way. The scallions were a lovely finishing touch. I’m not sure I would order this again, even though I like beets. It didn’t wow me and normally I like beet salads with some kind of cheese (blue or goat, typically). If you love beets, however, go ahead and order it, you won’t be disappointed.

For my main course, I had the meatballs, served over housemade tagliatelle (slightly flatter and wider than fettucine) for an extra $5. It was inexplicable to me that they would serve meatballs in tomato sauce with absolutely no starch as a main course. The meatballs were noteworthy with a pronounced creaminess and heft, minus any leaden density. The tomato sauce paired very well with the meatball, but the bites where I had the sauce on its own on the pasta were a wee bit bland. Maybe if there had been some Parmigiano cheese? All in all, a dish I would gladly order again.

Pri’s tagliatelle with braised short ribs was described by the manager as bolognese and while I’ve had true, authentic bolognese (only a hint of tomato and more of a meaty, slightly creamy sauce), I’m glad they changed the name on the menu from bolognese to ragout. The sauce was thin and the meat lay in shredded chunks. It was also a tad under salted, but Kaitlin preferred Pri’s pasta to mine, so to each his/her own with that.

Kaitlin had the Wednesday night special of snapper en cartocchio, basically snapper steamed in a paper package or “en papillot” to you Francophiles.

The snapper sat on a bed of vegetables and was supposed to be drizzled with a truffle vinaigrette or truffle oil of some sort; however, the two bites I took (from two different sides of the fish), while light and tasty, provided no hint of truffle and truffle’s a pretty tough flavor to mask, so that was a little disappointing.

One other snag was that when Kaitlin got to the middle of the large piece of fish she discovered it hadn’t been cooked all the way through. The waiter gladly took it back into the kitchen to finish cooking it, but that type of hiccup can be disruptive to a meal. The fish came back about 10 minutes later and by then Pri and I were pretty much done with our dishes. I was told that the snapper had first been offered as a part of a special Valentine’s Day prix fixe menu and had been so popular Chef Shepard decided to include it weekly, so maybe they’re still working out the kinks on cooking times and temperatures. It was a shame too; conceptually, it is a wonderful dish.

By this point I was stuffed beyond stuffed. We ordered dessert anyway and as I was only planning on taking one bite I let Pri and Kaitlin choose. They ordered the citrus crostada, which definitely would not have been my first or second choice because, in general, I don’t enjoy citrus-based desserts. Well, thank god I let them choose whatever they wanted. The dessert completely took me by surprise. The tartness and sweetness of the grapefruit and orange, somehow, miraculously remained mellow against the buttery, doughy, sugary crust (which, from its appearance, seemed like it was going to be brittle and crunchy, but wasn’t at all). All of it was drizzled with a thin vanilla cream sauce that rounded all the flavors and textures out. The crostada, apparently, changes seasonally (a month or so ago it was an apple crostada), so get this while you can.

My overall impression of Lunetta was of a toddler advancing from a crawl to walking strides. It may wobble on occasion, even fall down, but you see the progress and the potential for where it is headed. You know it’ll get there eventually and you breath a sigh of contentment and anticipation at what you see in its future.

Dinner for Three:

• Tuna Bruschetta - $3.50
• Ricotta Bruschetta - $3.50
• Chopped Liver Bruschetta - $3.50
• Fried Artichokes - $12
• Fennel Beet Salad - $10
• Meatballs (over Tagliatelle) - $15 (+ $5)
• Tagliatelle with Braised Pork and Short Rib Ragout - $17
• Snapper en Cartocchio - $26
• Citrus Crostada - $9
• Bottle of Falanghina - $36
• Total (excluding tax and tip) - $140.50