A Tiger In The Kitchen

Nantucket: The Art of Winging It

I've always envied people who can look in a fridge, grab a bunch of things and whip together an impressive meal.

The times that I've done that, I've managed to oh, muster up a ham scramble.

As someone who entered the kitchen fairly late in life, my insecurities always get the better of me. So when it comes to cooking, I'm much more of a planner -- I like to think things through a fair bit first if I've never made a dish before. I'll look up dozens of recipes before settling on what to make. And I'll read a recipe several times over to plan any changes or additions before setting foot in the kitchen.

But, watching the ease and freedom of chefs who cook purely by instinct -- that confidence always gets me. I can't help but feel like the child on a tricycle, watching far braver kids whizzing past on ten-speed bikes.

How to bridge that gulf?

In the kitchen of a little beach cottage on Nantucket, I started taking baby steps.

Cornbread (And One Comatose Baker)

Baking a bread every week can teach you many things.

Don't overbook yourself. Take things slow.

This week, making cornbread for the Bread Baker's Apprentice challenge reminded me of yet another thing that's applicable to life in general: Get enough sleep.

New York, Paris, San Diego, Bacon

It began with three women -- one in New York, one in Paris, one in San Diego.

Although they lived far, far apart and had never met, they had one thing in common: a deep love for bacon.

"I was just thinking how nice a BLT would be. I only have the L & T, however," lamented Ellise in Paris.

"And I have the B but not the L and T. Come on over-we'll combine them ... " I, the New Yorker, said.

"You know, I already bought bacon and tomatoes and was planning on a BLT soon for lunch!" said Nicole in San Diego.

And that, folks, was how our intercontinental BLT lunchdate was hatched. 

Sicily: A Duomo Above Others

Just about this time last year, I was in a little car, racing four hours across Sicily in search of a good meal.

At the end of the trek from Palermo, in far western Sicily, to Ragusa, in the Southeast, lay Ristorante Duomo, one of just two restaurants on the island at the time to have received a Michelin star.

Now, I've gone to many lengths in the name of sampling noteworthy food -- this level of devotion is not anything new. But doing an eight hour-trip in a day just for a spot of lunch? Even that was a little insane for us.

What can I say? It was worth it. 

Cowgirl Sea-Horse: Fish So Good It's Got To Be Bad For You

It's always a little unfair to judge a restaurant based on its first week out the gate -- kinks still have to be worked out; the kitchen may not have found its rhythm yet.

Judging from a visit to Cowgirl Sea-Horse just days after it opened, it's a place well worth checking out. If things are only expected to get better after the first week, well, let's just say they're already pretty darn satisfying.

This new seafood outpost of the popular Cowgirl in the West Village has the same Southwestern flavor and Steel Magnolia bartenders that the original restaurant does. But it offers slightly different fare from the chicken-fried steaks and smoked barbecue ribs that have been mainstay of Cowgirl for decades.

On the menu are $12 to $14 seafood gumbos, fish tacos and shrimp cornettas (crispy cones filled with shrimp). Like Cowgirl, it does a good job at what it does -- uncomplicated comfort food. One thread links the two restaurants: there's an awful lot of fried in both places.

Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course.

Cinnamon Raisin Bread: Devil in a Loaf Pan

It was only as I was licking cinnamon sugar off a plate after rapidly devouring three slices of bread that I managed to put a finger on the word I was looking for to describe the cinnamon raisin walnut loaf I had just made.

Trouble.

And this is coming from someone who has generally preferred savory or plain loaves to sweet cinnamon-raisin breads.

Peter Reinhart's recipe for cinnamon-raisin bread? It's trouble.

Big D's Grill: Democratizing Food, One Wagyu Steak At A Time

It's peak dinnertime on a weeknight in Singapore and I'm perched on a rickety plastic stool at Big D's Grill in Holland Village.

The tables are only somewhat clean. It's so unbearably hot and humid in the food court-style coffee shop that an almost endless trickle of sweat is rolling down my face. And the rumbling din all around only crescendos as the tank-top and shorts-wearing crowd grows and flip-flopped hawkers race from table to table, barking out greetings and taking orders.

It's hardly the setting where you'd expect to find some of the most satisfying (and, in some instances, inventive) Western dishes currently being served in Singapore. And yet, that's exactly what you'll get at Big D's, a place that serves USD $33 wagyu rib-eye steaks and USD $8.20 snapper livornese from a tiny kitchen wedged between hawker stands that sell noodle dishes and fish soups for around USD $1.

Damian D'Silva, the owner/chef of Big D's, is something of a man on a mission -- and his quest is to bring high-end fare to a swath of people who love good food but might be intimidated by or don't want to be bothered with going to a fancy French or Italian restaurant. His hole-in-the-wall stall has been part of a growing number of places in hawker centers and other outdoor foodcourts that have been gradually democratizing the eating culture in Singapore simply by selling French, German or Eurasian dishes that one would typically find at higher prices in high-end restaurants in low-key, neighborhood settings.

Big D's in particular, has been attracting big crowds and attention on the shoulders of Damian's dishes -- the New York Times, apparently, is about to run a feature on the place. (The restaurant's Facebook page, Fans of Big D's Grill, sent out an email blast last week urging customers to swing by and pad up the crowds last Friday for a planned photo shoot with a Times photographer.)

On Governors Island: Water Taxi Beach

It can be hard not to think you're having the best meal in New York City when you have your toes in warm sand, a hot dog in hand and a front-row seat to a sweeping view of New York harbor and the downtown Manhattan skyline.

Even if the hot dog is perfectly ordinary -- which it was -- there's little that can beat the experience of lunching at the new Water Taxi Beach on Governors Island on a summer Friday.

Read: When the rambunctious crowds aren't there and the place isn't teeming with kids.

Not that Water Taxi Beach, which officially opened July 11, is only about its location. It serves basic, somewhat inexpensive, boardwalk food done nicely -- the burger patty didn't taste like it'd been defrosted just minutes before and the fries would not have been out of place on a steakhouse plate.

Having been to my fair share of beaches, I've found that these qualities in boardwalk food, sadly, are a rarer find than one would think.

Cinnamon Buns: Faith, Restored

What you are witnessing here, folks, would be what they call "getting back on the horse."

After the smoke, the blackened loaves, the almost-blazing defeat that was my attempt to make ciabatta last week, I'd begun doubting my quest to bake my way through Peter Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice along with 200 plus amateur bakers around the world.

Could I really pull this off? (Without burning down my apartment, preferably.)

Should I even try?

But love can be a powerful motivator. In this case, that would be Mike's profound love for cinnamon buns.

Since I joined the bread bakers' challenge in May, Mike had been waiting impatiently for cinnamon bun week. And by the time cinnamon buns came up, I had begun to see a greater purpose to baking them -- I thought they might help assuage my lingering guilt over a not-so-little visit I made to Stella McCartney in Paris recently. (Hey, 50%-off is pretty good, even in Euros.)

So I grabbed my saddle and called for my horse.

A French Toast To Remember

 

People have been asking -- what do you do with all this bread you're baking?

To which, I have my own question: Have you seen my behind lately?

But the truth is, I don't eat all, or even a quarter, of my bread. Giving it away has been a sound strategy. And, I have a freezer full of brioche, waiting for the day when a handsome bread pudding recipe comes along.

When I made challah, however, I broke the rules.

The moment I set eyes on my braided loaf, I knew French toast was a must.