Finally.

It took two weekends of tweaking, combining and adapting recipes, but I finally settled on a Concord grape focaccia (inspired by schiacciata, but less desserty) we couldn’t stop eating. Gil did his damage to it while I was away at work, but each night before bed, I stood at the counter nibbling on tiny pieces that always added up to the one large piece I should’ve just cut for myself at the start.

Apart from the focaccia, I didn’t really do any cooking last weekend because I was working on my first (paying) portrait shoot! Last winter, Cara Packard, the super-talented owner of Cara Linn Cakes, hired me to take some promotional pictures for her business. She’s getting married next month, so her sister did a little sleuthing to find me and arrange a surprise bridal portrait session in the city. I had a great time working with someone so natural and relaxed in front of the camera, and found that taking pictures of humans is even more fun than taking pictures of food. Go figure.

a few bridal pictures and focaccia recipe after the jump

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A few days ago, the Freakonomics blog of the NY Times posted a piece on the economics of street charity. The specific question posed didn’t make a lot of sense to me — it asked how you would divide $10 between a hot dog vendor and a beggar — but I found the answers interesting and diverse enough to read on. Perhaps not surprisingly, several of the answers were over-intellectualized, though you could certainly tell how each respondent felt about street charity.

Those of you who live in NY or any other city that requires a lot of walking know that you encounter many such requests everyday. I walk over a mile to work, starting at the Port Authority, and if I gave money to every person who asked, I’d have nothing left for myself. So here’s how I determine who gets it:

1) I always give to women. Life on the street has to be difficult enough, but doubly so for women. Even if stories of homeless women being forced into sex for favors or protection from homeless men aren’t true, women are physically smaller and have a more difficult time defending themselves if things get physical, so they get something from me if they ask.

2) I often give to the inebriated. I know, I know, they’ll only buy more alcohol with it, but let’s face it — if you’re drunk on the street at 9am, you’re not one epiphany away from turning your life around. These guys probably won’t have long lives, so why shouldn’t they have a little succor while they’re still around?

3) I steer clear of overtly insane or violent-looking men — the ones who scream at random passers-by or at no one at all, or who mutter to themselves as they shuffle along.

If conditions 1 or 2 aren’t met, I keep walking. If condition 3 is met, I keep walking … with speed.

How about you? Do you give to anyone who asks or do you only give to people who meet certain criteria? Or do you prefer to give to agencies and not to individuals at all? How do you decide who gets your charity?

…sort of. Sorry for the disappearing act, but we’re putting out the biggest issue of the year at work. That’s not to say I haven’t been cooking, but when there’s too little time to collect my thoughts and nothing but disappointing pictures to post, there doesn’t seem to be much of a point.

Anyway, I took this picture on the way to work a couple of days ago. There isn’t a LOT to recommend 9th Avenue besides a lack of foot traffic, but sometimes the sights are worth it. No, it doesn’t compare with the Official MI Husband’s reflection shot, but he’s a master. I still have much to learn.

From left to right, the bread pudding offerings on the table: Garlic, Chocolate, Old-Fashioned, Capirotada Mexican, Cinnamon Roll, and Ms. Edna Lewis’ Famous

The Bread Pudding Spectacular of 2007 wasn’t much of an event, really. A few lonely slivers of quivery pudding made their way to the table as my friend and I looked around the store. After making my purchases, we dove right in, taking our judging responsibility with all the seriousness it deserved. We sampled, compared impressions, encouraged a couple to join us, and cleaned the store out in the process. But really — don’t you HAVE to sample each flavor before making a sound judgement? Yeah, I thought you’d agree.

I was surprised by how well the garlic bread pudding worked. It had a hint of sweetness without being overly garlicky, so I’d bet roasting (or maybe simmering?) was involved in some way. As far as savory bread puddings go, it was nice, but very one-note. Everyone else thought the chocolate was the best, and it was very, very good, but no Café Matisse. (I’m a spoiled little brat, I know, I know.) The old-fashioned took first place on my ballot, mostly because it tasted the most traditional and basic, even though it was MUCH more custardy than I’m used to. Didn’t mind that at all, though, and think I may have to try something similar myself, and soon. The Mexican was far too fruity for my taste (I think it had a layer of fig paste at the bottom), but everyone else liked it a lot. Ms. Edna Lewis’ was afflicted with overly plump raisins (does anyone else see those in baked goods and think BUGS?), but was otherwise as good as the old-fashioned. I suspect Ms. Edna could kick my butt if she put her mind to it, so I’ll leave it at that. The worst of the bunch BY FAR was the cinnamon roll bread pudding — it was dry, underflavored, and dull. I’ve had more voluptuous cinnamon toast than this stuff. Maybe it would’ve fared better with a spritz of one of the icings, but I’m a purist. It’s hard work being this right.

Today’s excursion was a creative department field trip to AIGA for their Package Design from Japan exhibit. As you’d expect, there were lots of wacky designs for even wackier products — maybe the collection wasn’t exactly representative, but it gave the impression that the Japanese are overly concerned with controlling sweating and WAY into Pocky and Pocky-like products. Also, I am led to believe they like their drinks and desserts small, in direct defiance of our American super-size doctrine. Oh yes, and black packaging lends an air of sophistication to products as disparate as chocolate bars and Bioré pore strips.

On the way back to the office, we stopped in at New York Cake Supplies for a period of lusting after objects I not only don’t need, but don’t know how to begin using. It isn’t exactly a pretty store (in fact, it reminded me a lot of the warehouse-y shopping experience at RK Bridal), but they have ev-er-y-thing. Maybe one of my projects while Gil is away next week will be to learn extremely rudimentary cake decorating. If there’s a coconut-scented mushroom cloud in north Jersey, you’ll know who to blame.

Those of you who check out this site from time to time may know of my obsession with bread pudding. It’s all I can do NOT to make one every weekend with whatever variants of bread and fruit we have lying around, but I’ve been health-conscious of late. I don’t think we’ve indulged since before Passover, which is far too long for someone like me.

So when I read about Broadway Panhandler’s Bread Pudding Recipe Exchange Week Taste Off this morning at the always-informative Megnut, I could barely contain my excitement. Meet me there Wednesday? It’ll be amazing. I always imagined myself as more of a BBQ judge, but only because I didn’t know bread pudding competitions existed.

Check out the recipes link in the right column for a few of my favorite bread pudding recipes.

Update: Attend the Taste Off at your own risk. (via The Agitator)

It isn’t all rat droppings and squalor here in the West Village, you know. In fact, there are several establishments I’ll miss like crazy when our office moves to the Flatiron area next month: Ottomanelli Meats (where the old guys shamelessly flirt with me as they satisfy my dry-aged and hanger steak cravings), Murray’s Cheese (where the conversations are less flirty than oddball, but they really know their stuff … and give huge samples!), The Lobster Place (for the freshest seafood and made-to-order takeout sushi), Amy’s Bread (for, um, bread & sandwiches), and Rocco’s Pastry Shop (cannoli, ’nuff said). And they’re all on the same block! My years in the West Village have been a godsend for me, culinarily speaking, and I love shopping at specialty stores for the best ingredients for my meal.

But there aren’t many restaurants I’ll miss for lunch. You can find decent Thai in the neighborhood, but all Thai is decent, really. It’s just rarely transcendent. I’m not knocking it — that uniformity is a large part of it’s appeal, in my eyes. The Japanese place next door is supposed to be amazing, but it’s only open for dinner. So lunch options around here are standard, mostly delis and a few healthy-but-expensive takeout places.

Except for the restaurant that just happens to be my favorite lunch spot in the Village. On the rare occasions when I’m not working out or working through lunch, I go to Surya. In Hindu teachings, Surya is a deity, but he’s also leant his name to a wonderful restaurant which serves upscale Indian in a space that always feels cozy, even in the middle of the day. The lighting is just low enough to be flattering with candles flickering on white tablecloths, and everyone seems to leave their frustrations behind. The whole dining experience is very soothing and a welcome break from a typical workday. It’s almost spa-like.

The warm aroma of spices greets you as you walk in the door, but it’s subtler in every way than the standard greasy spoon Indian lunches you might be imagining. It’s a blend of cardamom, coriander, and cumin so delicate and balanced I’d wear them as perfumes if I could. Surya offers the standard dishes — vindaloo, aloo gobi, tandoori chicken, and a few outstanding curries — but I usually opt for the sprouted lentils with spinach, something I haven’t run across elsewhere. The dish is slightly spicy (or really spicy, depending on your tolerance) and infused with cumin and mustard seeds. It’s also creamy with a nice firm bite (just shy of a crunch) from the sprouted lentils and topped with julienned ginger for a surprising little zing. The rice is always fluffy and aromatic, but I chose the roti this afternoon for a change of pace. I skipped dessert today, but if you ever go, be sure to try the kheer, coming atcha with cardamom pods and rose water. It’s an acquired taste if you grew up on a sweet and creamy version of rice pudding, but I’m hooked on this style.

And best of all, they offer a lunch special — 50% off your bill if you dine in. (And why wouldn’t you?) I’m sure I’ll be making the occasional trip to the Village during grilling season for those hanger steaks and a few cheeses for snacking, but Surya, I think I’ll miss you most of all!

I’m sure most of you have already heard about the rodent issue Taco Bell/KFC had in the West Village. It was pretty disturbing to hear, since my office is only a couple of blocks away and I’d stop once in a while to satisfy my Bellian cravings. No, I never saw rats, but I’m sure it’s only because my attention was focused on the equally-scary clientele.

Since then, I’ve noticed a few other nearby places shuttered, too. First Sammy’s two doors down, then John’s Pizza around the corner, and now Risotteria — a much nicer place I always thought, and one of the few restaurants in the neighborhood that caters to people in need of gluten-free dining. Not content to go down without a fight, Risotteria posted signs in every window:

What’s that? Can’t quite make out the sign:

Posted a new set of pictures taken on my walk to work last Friday. Click on the image below to see them all.