How brown was my chicken*

A chicken, two heads of garlic, cloves separated, a bunch of Long Island grapes, some cut up red potatoes, terrace thyme and tarragon inside, 2 cups of dry white vermouth, salt etc. Put in pot with lid and cover, in oven of 400'F/200'C. 1 hour and a quarter-ish. Take off lid for 20 minutes to brown. The side effect will be the brown-spattering of the pot-sides that you see above, which you should scrape down by sloshing the juices over them, and scratching with a wooden spoon. No metal on your le Creuset, please.

Toast some hole-y bread and put a slice in the bottom of a bowl. Spoon the chicken and juice and potatoes and soft garlics and grapes on top.

Accompany with a salad of North Fork mizuna and fresh North Fork corn. Mizuna is a bit of a wuss and needs a gentle vinaigrette. I added some cream to mine.

* How green was my valley?

SoHo roof garden

Once upon a time there was a new grey terrace in SoHo that needed a garden.

Ideas were discussed, pictures were sent, measurements were taken, drawings were drawn, visits were made, money was paid, planters were built, plants were scouted, soil was ordered.

Below, the cedar-clad planters arrived, swaddled against mishaps.


And were put into place. It was realized that a new awning would chop a planned birch in half, so the planters were altered and re-arranged


Irrigation was laid behind and into them, and they waited for their soil and plants, and to meet the gardeners.

The gardeners stood below and glared at the garden designer. They did not think the birches could possibly fit into the elevator. They were thinking of six flights of stairs carrying birches up every step. The garden designer stood her ground and insisted they would fit. She had measured. But she was a little nervous. The gardeners looked frightening. And a bit mean.

The birches were wrapped in soft cotton drop cloths and bent.

They fitted into the elevator, one by one. Then they were carried up a last, elevatorless, flight.

The grasses and flowers had heard a lot about the big city, and were very quiet.

Before they knew it, just after lunch, they found their roots in deep soil, and were drinking New York City tap water for the first time. There were birch leaves overhead. The leaves fluttered in the afternoon breeze and complained about being bruised.

A gardener was cleaning the pavers with more water.

Only the tallest prairie dropseed could see over the parapet and told the others about the view (people having lunch on the street). Some city bees came to visit. The perennials said they were used to stars on the North Fork of Long Island. The gentians at the birches' feet whispered that they were too small to see the city lights.


Below: Sporobolus heterolepis - prairie dropseed, native to Missouri, and found from Texas to Canada. Considered endangered.

Allium taquetii - blooms September. Native to Korea.

Agastache 'Blue Fortune'. A hybrid, but agastache is a US card holder.

Calamintha nepeta ssp nepeta - from southern Europe. This is one of my favourite perennials, because of its outstanding flowers and bloom time, all the way from the middle summer through frost, as well as its delicious, minty scent; but I cannot find more information about its potentially invasive properties. My own has reseeded like the blazes. They popped up all over the terrace.

It is however, the famous nepitella, used in Tuscan cooking.



Nasella tenuissima - Mexican feather grass. More climate change here: it used to be marginal, but is now surviving our winters.





Pennisetum "Little Bunny". Originated as a seedling of "Hameln", found by Jack Weiscott of Ornamental Plantings, Southhold, Long Island.

The grey terrace is now a terrace with a garden, and has come alive, ready to be lived in.

North Fork

..aka Freedom.

Yesterday we drove out to the North Fork of Long Island to pick up some perennials for a garden that was to be planted in SoHo today (post tomorrow), and to scout for some special shade plants for the Tribeca terrace in afew weeks. No matter how industrious or thorough one thinks one is, seeing new plants is often the best inspiration for planting an interesting garden that works through the seasons.

It's a long trek: 2 hours and 100 miles from Manhattan, but it pays back in terms of results. I think.

And    my    father   says: Results count. 

Boy, did we hate hearing that.

After driving and walking through all of Jim and Joanne Glover's fields, taking copious notes and lots of pictures, squeaking at various Interesting Things, and picking up my agastache, calamintha, nasella and pennisetum for the SoHo terrace, Vince and I drove another ten minutes to a beach he'd found on a map.

We could not have imagined how perfect it would be.

There were a few houses, whose owners I envied.

There were six people on the beach , propped up in chairs, facing the September sun.

And there was the water. Clear. Blue. Green. Crystalline. I had not expected this colour or quality facing the Long Island Sound, and the mainland many miles across from us, but we were at the very tip of Long Island, so the Atlantic has plenty of space to wash in.

A swimming section was cordoned off, below, the buoys making a lovely line in the water.

We were seeing it on a weekday after Labor Day, so Summer's Over, was the feeling. Perhaps in season it is mobbed. But it was so clear, quiet and beautiful, that the hour or less that we spent having lunch, lying listening to the water, and walking to look at the water-washed stones, felt like a long gentle medicine that I didn't know I needed.

We did not have swimsuits and didn't want to offend the locals. We did not know we would find this place.

Our picnic was basic, and we'd picked up a local Pinot Noir from Duckwalk Vineyards for a glass each before driving back.

Burrata and tomatoes with terrace basil on ciabatta, some prosciutto, Persian cucumbers with salt...

We lay back and listened.

And breathed in.

And out.

And were very happy.

Alma

It wasn't until Saturday evening that we ate at Alma on Columbia Street - I've been meaning to for a long time: just drinks and some appetizers, as we were having a real dinner at home, which was just as well.

The view is a killer, semi-industrial one of Manhattan and Jersey across the harbour - but the guacamole at this Mexican restaurant was bland, made with under ripe avocadoes, under- seasoned, no hint of lime or lemon, or even salt and...well. A waste. What more to say.

The ceviche was a collection of shrimp and scallops in a sweetish tomato soup that tasted like the kind of canned cocktail sauce that comes with those skating rink-sized platters of shrimp served in certain establishments and on game night. I'm told.

I'm dying for a simple ceviche where the fish is very fresh and made even better by citrus juice, take your pick; a herb, take your pick; and simple seasoning or a spice, take your pick.

I wouldn't go back to eat the real food, which is sad, as it's a great rooftop and so many reviews were good. But if the basics are treated with this carelessness, why would the main dishes be any different? I liked my margarita, with cucumber, and Vince's beer tasted just like beer.

Which was quite reassuring.

Tonight I'm making guacamole. With slow-cooked pig.

Two years

Dawn this morning, courtesy of the cats' breakfast time. Over our human breakfast of coffee and challah bread (or kitka, as I grew up calling) it, we realized that it is two years ago today that we met. Vince and I. I've known the cat much longer. For coffee at Newark Airport. For which Vince flew across the country, and for which I took a cab. Then I brought him home.

We had a good day today, fraught at the end, with re-entry into Manhattan traffic and bad manners, from a day far out on the North Fork for plant shopping, but that was just bad luck. The middle of the day was beautiful - I will post pictures tomorrow - and now we are going to splurge for dinner at Saul's. I hope it's good. I've eaten well there twice, but not for a long time.

9/22/2009 - How was dinner you ask?

Very good.

We tossed down shot glasses of an amuse bouche of sugar snap pea soup, which was the best thing I ate all night.

I had the $35 three course prix fixe, starting with duck confit on a bed of lentils: this was a whole duck leg and thigh, on delicious lentils, with pickled okra thinly sliced on top as a garnish; the okra was flavoured strongly with coriander seeds, which made me homesick, and was a little slimy for my taste (picture strings of, as you lift the fork). The duck was excellent, though. The other choice was bacon and onion tart, which I was hard-pressed not to choose. Vince had the foie gras terrine, a very, very (small!) modest slice, with a grape (I think) jelly and toast. Excellent.

Main course for me was pork loin on a bed of green stuff, pureed, and not identified (we were told, I forgot) with fingerling potatoes and pieces of roast apple. It was cooked beautifully, still a little pink. A modest portion in a huuuuuge white bowl - very pretty.

Vince's main course was a $36 confection which perturbed me and delighted him: flank steak and short rib, the latter cooked long and to perfection and the former seared and meltingly tender. The presentation? The same pureed green stuff, then a layer of pureed yellow stuff (potato), then slices of the flank (about 4-5 small rare slices) pressed into the potato, then the small hunk of shortrib at the head, then a cippollino onion on the shortrib. It looked like a long flat fish? A flounder? Was it supposed to? It thought it awfully clunky and inelegant. Maybe it was a food joke? It tasted wonderful. It looked like it had fallen. Or been caught. Or run over.

Then Vince had my baked Alaska which looked like a sweet, quilted, padded hedgehog. Too sweet for me, but he lapped it up.

I was happy that we tried both ends of the menu, high and low. Was it worth it? - we had a wonderful time. Maybe that is the answer. Is it justified, I don't know. I would say the prix fixe is very well organized and presented, and would choose it again. My feeling is that the a la carte dishes are over-priced. I've eaten very well at other restaurants which could charge the same prices, but don't. They charge a little more than half of the $36 one. I suppose it's what the market can stand.

There is the issue of the great white bowls and plates and leatherbound menus - 4 menus: tasting, prix fixe, a la carte, wine - for each meal, and goldfish bowl sized glasses... all this costs more than a paper menu and mismatched cutlery. Saul's has a Michelin star.

Maybe I've become provincial. We'll be slumming at home for a while.

Independent Pilot Competition

The three newest episodes of my friend David Schumacher's web-series, NYCMusicShow, will be screened exclusively at the NYTVF Independent Pilot Competition this Thursday at 6.15pm and Friday at 10pm.

New World Stages, 340 West 50th street, betw. 8th and 9th Avenues.

You can reserve FREE tickets at the NYTVF website. There is a $3.50 processing fee. So...

You can just show up at the door (it's a big theatre), which is what we're planning on doing on Thursday. Later we'll find something to eat. Maybe at Hallo Berlin.

I worked with Dave and the lovely Lala (whose production company is Magnetic Media) a year or so ago when they thought that a TV show about Urban Gardening, hosted by Me, might hit the spot. It didn't! But making the teaser to shop around to networks was a lot of fun. Maybe I can dig out the disc and find a way to upload it for general amusement.

I met Dave when he was freelancing as the soundman for a CBC interview I did in a rooftop garden in 2007, and the seed was planted in his head. Poor seed: we watered it, fed it, but the Beings that Pay just don't seem to want gardens. Idiots. Or maybe it was me...Maybe the yellow dress was a mistake.

The competition is screening a lot of other pilots, too, so you can make an evening of it. It's a fascinating glimpse into the business of selling the ideas that become - in. some. cases. only. - what we watch.

Says the woman who does not own a TV. But I'm a DVD junkie.

What else to say about Mr Schumacher? He's a musician - we bonded during that shoot over opera, which he loves; and he cooks a mean leg of lamb.

Here's a taste of an NYCMusicShow episode.

The best view in New York

...is from the Fulton Ferry Landing beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, as the lights come on in Manhattan.

We walked down to it last night after having illicit sundowners on the Brooklyn Promenade in a tugging wind off the harbour. There were Russians, being disgorged from a white stretch Hummer. There were four male friends asking everyone to take pictures of them. There were tourists. There were film makers. There were waves splashing onto the dock as large pleasure and work boats went by. It was quite beautiful.