Put down that edamame salmon burger! Turns out Omega 3 fatty acids and soy might not be so great at preventing cancer and saving your heart.

Hey! I've got an idea: How about we quit focusing on the power of pomegranate, soy, green tea, fish oil, flax seeds or whatever the hell they might label the new panacea superfood... and just recommend a varied diet with lots of fresh, unprocessed foods in sensible portion sizes. What if we supplement that with a daily dose of fresh air and exercise?

Yeah, I know. You can't produce that in pill form and sell it, so it'll never work. I'm all full of these crazy notions...

J issues a report from the field (well, okay: the Lower East Side)

Ginsu Alert! Ginsu Alert! There's a new Italian place with
extraordinary Roman-style pizza called Palà
at 198 Allen Street (just south of Houston). They don't open until
next week, but I walked in off the street tonight and they fed me and introduced me to the Roman master baker responsible for
their very impressive dough (all organic, untreated whole wheat
flours, five day rest & rise, thirty minute cook time). The NY Times
was there today for an article next Wednesday.

Also: we recently (Sunday afternoon) ran into the 22-hour-old Divalicious Chocolate. The owner ("I'm a singer-chef") was demonstrably ambitious, effusive and more than happy to dip a pretzel (or marshmallow, or strawberry) for visitors in the Wonka-like chocolate fountain that flows at the counter. (Need one? They rent 'em.)

J promises more fun is on the way with promising café/bar Clandestino on Canal St. down the way from Les Enfants Terribles...

Who doesn't love quality corporate euphemisms?

Okay fine... Put your hand down, smart guy. You'll love this one from Dannon: "long intestinal transit time."

Hmm. Wonder what they mean by that?

More entertaining is that food transglobalmegacorp's other stroke of marketing brilliance: Bifidus Regularis™. Yes, they've got their very own trademarked enzyme.

I didn't know you could do that. I want an enzyme now, too. I'll call mine "Acidophilous Ginsumatus Terribulous™." It'll be ten feet tall with a bad attitude. It'll track down all the bullies from my elementary school and give 'em wedgies in front of their coworkers.

Hey... if you're going to have your own enzyme, don't you want it to do something more exciting than breaking up intestinal transit strikes?

Continuing my list of 100 fantastic food things, I submit for your approval:

6. Manchego: Tasty, accessible and ever-so versatile. It might be the cheese with which a person could satisfy the "What if you could only have one cheese for the rest of your life?" question.

7. Redhots! The cinnamon candy classic becomes the high point of a handful of memories revolving around clumsily hand-glued shoeboxes bulging full of thin paper valentines (begrudgingly delivered by classmates who were forced to distribute one to everyone... even the homely little girls at which they normally threw iceballs).

8. Is there anything finer than the friendly, accomodating market-driven neighborhood bistro that never lets you down? Maybe it's the the same bistro that also serves a tongue-tickling sticky toffee pudding — hot and chewy (with just the right amount of sweetness), drizzled in buttery fresh caramel and garnished with sautéed banana slices. Yeah, I guess that's just a bit finer, isn't it?

9. Mediterranean Yogurt: So this is how yogurt is supposed to taste! I remember I used to sneak into the pastry walk-in 'fridge (in a restaurant I worked in) to peel the lid off the 3-gallon bin of mediterranean yogurt. I'd grab dates from the big bag on the top shelf, dip them in the yogurt and hum with pleasure over the combination of rich, creamy sweetness. I'm sure the health department (and my chef) would not have approved, making the flavor somehow sweeter.

10. I'm oh-so mad for pickles. Pickled ramps, pickled lotus root, pickled carrots, pickled watermelon rind, pickled green tomatoes, pickled green beans, pickled peppers (a peck!), pickled cabbage, oshiko and kimchi... What a brilliant way to preserve! What a delicious accent to salads, sandwiches and cheese plates! What a succulent midnight refrigerator raid!

Our minds are like our stomachs; they are whetted by the change of their food, and variety supplies both with fresh appetites.

Marcus Fabius Quintilianus (35-95)

A delicious selection from "The Cheese Museum," a chapter in the excellent Mr. Palomar by Italo Calvino.

The cheese shop appears to Mr. Palomar the way an encyclopedia looks to an autodidact: he could memorize all the names, venture a classification according to the form — bar of soap, cylinder, dome, ball — according to the consistency — dry, buttery, cramy, vined, firm — according to the alien materials involved in the crust or in the heart — raisins, pepper, waluts, sesame seeds, herbs, molds — but this would not bring him a step closer to true knowledge, which lies in the experience of the flavors, composed of memeory and imagination at once. Only on the basis of this could he establish the scale of preferences and tastes and curiosities and exclusions.

Behind every cheese there is a pasture of a different green under a different sky: meadows caked with salt that the tides of Normandy deposit every evening; meadows scented with aromas in the windy sunlight of Provence; there are different flocks, with their stablings and their transhumances; there are secret processes handed down over the centuries. This shop is a museum: Mr. Palomar, visiting it, feels as he does in the Louvre, behind every displayed object the presence of the civilization that has given it form and takes form from it.

Now that's food writing. Damn.

Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water.

W. C. Fields (1880-1946)

Oh! To be independently wealthy and lead a life of leisure... A Chef's Tour of Western India

Thanks to a recent Organic foods piece from Consumer Reports there's new hubbub about pesticide residue. The folks I work with are all in a froth because public attention on conventional food pesticides means more organic food sales (higher profit margins) and an opportunity to upsell a commercial fruit & vegetable wash.

I've always been a fan of produce washing (albeit not a compulsive one... an apple purchased from a fruit vendor on the street generally gets a vigorous rub on my clothing before consumption), and I worship my salad spinner. Spin-washing lettuces and herbs is surprisingly fun. Yank the cord! Yay! It spins! In addition, it's somehow satisfying watch all the soil collect in the bottom of the container.

Still, the advertising push for commercial washing fluids got me wondering whether a rinse in the sink was enough. Commercial washes have always seemed a bit dubious to me, like the tinctures, tonics, elixirs and potions peddlers once promoted as panacea. (Full disclosure: I also feel the recent antibacterial product craze is shady.) I mean, what's in those plastic squeeze bottles, anyway? The ingredients lists will tell you they're made of non-toxic ingredients, including "fragrances" and "surfectants." Since full disclosure isn't required by law for non-toxic household cleansers, consumers are supposed to be satisfied with these fabricated terms while the companies protect their "trade secrets."

The Environné VegiWash FAQs will at least reveal that they include Polysorbate 20, a sugar derived from fruit, and grapefruit seed extract, which may have some natural antibacterial qualities. So, sugar, citrus oil... sounds like something you could concoct at home, right? Many home cooks apparently use a DIY wash made with vinegar or lemon juice, while others go for baking soda scrubs.

It might interest you to know that while produce washing products such as Fit and Environné claim to remove more residues from produce than water alone, Cornell University disagrees, recommending a simple water wash with a scrub brush. (Cornell also cites water-washing recommendations from this country's three major food agencies: the EPA, FDA and USDA). Cornell's information, however, seems to be based around a desire to remove the microbial critters that cause foodborne illness. (Inexplicably, the University of Maine recommends using distilled water, rather than the standard tap variety.)

Given all the reading I've done, I think I'll stick with tap water and add in a splash of vinegar for the particularly manky surfaces. Besides... my veggie scrub brush (a sweet little alien dude with a bristle-brush head) is über-cute. Waaaay too cute to abandon to the junk drawer.

Saveur magazine is tapping my phone line. I'm sure of it. It's either that, or they bribed my dentist to implant a recording device in one of my molars.

How else could they have known about the The Condiment Packet Museum (check the pantry links), my devotion to Rick's Picks GT1000s, my chef and that avocado salad I made every day for six months of my life at Tabla, the public produce at fallenfruit.org, jacques torres and the Bonnie Slotnick cookbook shop on West 10th. Seriously. They're following me.

Every year Saveur magazine releases yet another edition of the "Saveur 100," a sweeping compendium of food and cooking raves. All of the above make the list, as well as a bunch of other stuff I've only been thinking about. It's creepy. And they do this every year.

I'm starting my own list. A hundred favorite fab food things. Since I'm a staff of one (with a day job and a life), I'll have to publish in smaller quantities... like five at a go.

In the meantime, run run run to your local bookstore and grab the February Saveur. Read about my cookbook shop. Order some GT1000s off the Rick's Picks site. Turn to page 48 to see my avocado salad (well, okay my Chef's avocado salad).

You can even make the recipe. But I'll give you a hint. The one they printed isn't exactly it. It's almost right, but it's just slightly off. You need to toast the cumin and grind it fresh for the best flavor. And to make it really really right, you have to work the garde manger station for a month or so.

In no particular order, 100 things that rock:

The Hedonista Hundred

1. Orangina. That compelling blue label! That refreshing effervescence! That sexy shape!

2. Hot chocolate ... Particularly if it's extra-dark with a hint of heat in the back of the throat.

3. The George Foreman Grill. The pressed sandwich goes portable.

4. The annual Lavazza Calendar of espresso hotness.

5. Fish tacos with micheladas. A ray of sun, a patch of beach and thou.

More wonder and delight to come...

Ahhh, the sandwich. Is there a more perfect food? Is there anything that's not at least slightly better on a sandwich?

J., my agent in the field (that particular field being the Lower East Side of Manhattan) reports that he's spotted new and exciting sandwich opportunites, namely, the "piada," which appears to be an Italian flatbread sandwich.

Salivate for yourself at PiadaNYC. If it's tasty, I'll tell you all about it soon...

Oh, Montréal! It seemed so full of promise. Look! (said we) Cheap tickets! We'll fly for the New Year's holiday! There will be fun! There will be bistros! There will be cafés! They will love the food just as much as we do!

Alas... in late December all the cute places in Montréal close up and goes south for the holidays. Gone to Martinique. Gone to Florida. Gone to Guadeloupe. Who could blame them? Shards of frozen water fell from the sky, cutting wee wounds into the dry, flaking skin of our wind-burnt cheeks.

We spent bitterly chilly days pressing irritated noses into the cold windowpanes of shuttered restaurants while we wandered in a hopeless search for flavorful food. At last resort there were greasy diners and Canadian restaurant chains. These were, sadly, no better than their American counterparts. Our disappointment grew more and more humorous until we were overtaken by fits of giggles.

On the brighter side, our B&B was clean and friendly (thank you, Geraldine!) and the city was inexpensive (hooray for favorable exchange rates!). We found a couple of open bookstores and saw a vast array of fantastically weird beetles, spiders, termites, scorpions, butterflies and bees at the Insectarium. This stop turned out to be my personal highlight. Montréal gives great bug. Oh, and the beer and cheese... also good. But one cannot live on beer and cheese, books and bugs.

Abandoning the quest for freshness and flavor, we pleaded for a smidgeon of savory spice from the chipper Scot who served us at the Bombay Palace on St. Catherine St.

Our man recommended a round of crisp Cheetah beer to wash down a basket of tandoor-fresh naan, a delightfully tender lamb vindaloo and a homey eggplant masala. We left our anxious stomachs in his hands. I should note that Indian restaurants present a particularly nerve-wracking risk for me. I love subcontinental cuisine so, and having cooked in an Indian-style restaurant, I'm particularly aware of how good every dish can and should be. The food was, thankfully, just fine.

The whole thing warmed my bones (momentarily) and made me hunger for a journey out to Patel Brothers back in Flushing, Queens. Serving up spice since 1974, Patel is apparently a national chain. The Flushing shop contains aisles and aisles of spices, rices, peppers, pots, pans, sweets and snacks, and (as promised on their website) the spacious store provides a charming "range of authentic Indian groceries and bring joy and celebration of the taste of motherland India right at your doorstep. To bring those warm indian memories we have a wide range of Spices, Pickles, Chutnes, Pules, Lentils, Basmati Rice, to name a few. Helping you create the countries varied culinary magic right in your home." Mmm... warm indian memories.

And what's to be done with all the treasures you plum from Patel? I'll reproduce a recipe I recently posted in the comments field on I(heart)bacon.

Here's a simplified version of a bhel puri used as an app. The trick with Indian cooking (and with most cooking for that matter) is this: you have to taste it to get the seasoning right. It's supposed to be a tasty balance of tangy, sweet, spicy and salty. Brands vary in seasoning, so your tamarind chutney may be sweeter than mine. It's difficult, therefore, to recommend an exact quantity.

Pick up the sev, puffed rice, tamarind chutney and mint chutney at an Indian food shop, online or at an enlightened supermarket.

(I like the Patak's brand for store-bought chutneys and pickles. Their lime pickle is fantabulous.)

Bhel Puri (makes approx 24-30 apps, served in cucumber cups*)

1 small onion, minced
2 green chilies (anaheims work well), deseeded and minced
1/2 cup hothouse cucumber (diced)
1/2 cup tart apple or mango (diced)
1/2 cup cilantro leaves, chiffonade or chop finely
1/2 cup chopped mint leaves, chiffonade or chop finely
juice of 1 lime
1 tsp chili powder
1 tsp chaat masala
tamarind chutney (about 1.5 Tbsp or to taste)
mint chutney (about 1.5 Tbsp or to taste)
salt/sugar/cayenne pepper (to taste)
1/2 cup puffed rice (to mix in at the very last moment before serving)
Sev (sprinkle on top for garnish)

In a bowl, mix all the ingredients together except rice and sev.
Taste for balance and adjust flavor with chutneys and seasonings.
Add puffed rice just before serving (otherwise, it'll get soggy).
Scoop by teaspoon into cucumber cups. Sprinkle with sev.
Serve immediately with a hoppy ale.

*Slice hothouse cucumbers into 3/4" rounds. Scoop out a little cup in each slice with a teaspoon or melonballer.

Patel Brothers
42-92 Main St
Flushing, NY 11355
718.661.1112

If you do not believe that a man will commit murder for one can of tomatoes, then you have never been hungry.

-Robert A. Heinlein (1907 – 1988)

Just got back from Montréal. Damn, folks.... Over the New Year's holiday, that city is really cold and really closed. (Fermé pour les vacances. Nous rouvrirons Janvier 4. Bonne Année!)

What fools are we! That fare was cheap for a reason.

We are so very happy we live in New York and ever-so glad to be home. Despite all that, you'll get the photo-and-food roundup in the next post.

Meanwhile (back in Gotham), La Hedonista weighs in with a table full of other salivating mouths at the Eater: The Year In Eater, 2005

Bon appétit!