Banana Bread, Revised

I have tried the gluten-free & sugar-free recipe from Babycakes' cookbook; wasn't too impressed with the results. The bread was semi-dry, and had a bit of an off-taste. Although it required 6 bananas, the taste was lost somewhere among the other ingredients.

So, yesterday, when I noticed that I had some bananas entering their mature phase, I thought I'd bake them into a bread. Instead of following the Babycakes Banana Bread directions, I took my all-time fave banana bread recipe, and inspired by the Babycakes ingredients, revised it a bit. And the results... one of the most delicious banana breads I've ever made!

Here's my all gluten-free, sugar-free, vegan Banana Bread:

Ingredients:
6 ripe bananas
4 ounces of coconut oil
4 ounces of canola oil
1/2 cup of brown rice sugar
1/2 cup of agave nectar
1 tsp of baking soda
1 tbs of vanilla
pinch of salt
2.5 cups of gluten-free flour
1 tsp of xantam gum
optional- nuts or vegan chocolate chips, about 1/2 cup

Directions:
Mix all the ingredients together, and put into a loaf pan for 1 hour at 350 degrees. Test it with a toothpick or a knife until it comes out clean.

It's that simple!

Turkish Cuisine Westchester in White Plains

Inspired by the sun and mild temperatures, Hubby and I gathered our fleeces, and headed over to Sunset Cove in Tarrytown to watch the sun set lazily behind the mountains. Life seemed to stop and take a back seat...

But our stomachs didn't.

Another one of Hubby's clippings- this time from the Westchester Magazine-, we visited the Turkish Cuisine Westchester in White Plains. Not knowing what to expect- I find that most Turkish food, just like any ethnic food, is altered to the local tastes- I was pleasantly surprised.

It reminded me of the earlier version of Ali Baba on 33rd Street- only on a much smaller scale. There are about six tables (seating 2-4 at each) in the back, and a take-out counter space with 4-5 stools for solo eaters. This is not a place for elaborate dining- for that, you may head over to Mamaroneck to Turkish Meze, the same owners as this joint.

The menu is diverse- no side dishes- and the kitchen is flexible if you crave for anything that may not be on the menu. For me, it was the "ayran"- a savory yogurt drink that goes fancily with traditional Turkish meat dishes. I loved my Skewered Ground Meat (complemented by a side of green chili sauce- also on request) that was served with a heaping salad and rice (made in bay leaf broth). Hubby opted for the Grilled Lamb Chops- unfortunately, they were out- and then chose to have Meatballs. Turkish Cuisine does not have a liquor license, but they welcome if you decide to bring any with you. Both dishes were delicious, and the serving sizes were just-right.

There is so much on the menu that I'd like to sample, so I'll be going back for some more.

Turkish Cuisine Westchester
116 Mamaroneck Ave
White Plains, NY 10601
(914) 683 6111
Mon to Wed 11 am–9 pm
Thurs to Sat 11:30 am–3 am
Sun 11:30 am–9 pm

Emma's Ale House

Last Sunday, on our way back from house-hunting, we made a turn onto Gedney Way to stop by Emma's Ale House, a new bar/restaurant in White Plains. Hubby had read about in the NYTimes, clipped the review and strategically placed it by the Tassimo for my reading pleasure.

Familiar with the watering holes in White Plains, I had mixed feelings going into the place- one time, when we had stopped by the Black Bear for a quick wings & beer during the football season, I had felt terribly "old" in my long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Looking around at the females who were in their "Sunday best"- faces fully made-up in revealing slinky (flimsy?) shirts-, I felt like I was as pristine as a nun. Thank goodness, Hubby never said a word, or he was perhaps enjoying the 'company' around us that he did not even notice my discomfort!!

From the moment you walk into Emma's, you're surrounded in dark & rich mahogany colors of old-school bars. To the left of the entrance, there's a large dining room- and on that Sunday, there were plenty of families dining with their little ones. We chose to stay to the right- a rather spacious area- where a long bar welcomed us. Hubby instantly commented on the beers on tap- happy to see the Captain's Reserve Imperial IPA from the local brewery, Captain Lawrence. We recognized the bartender- he was transferred from the Black Bear who share the same owners.

As we were watching the NCAA game on the flat-screen, I surveyed the clientele- a group of what seemed to be golf/sailing buddies with their wives, several young(er) couples enjoying the homemade chips on the bar, a few singletons, and groups of men and women cheering for their favorite college team...

Food was quite decent and prices reasonable- especially loved the soft pretzel sticks that preceded our dinner. Later, when I looked up their website, I noticed that Emma's is a Certified Green Restaurant by the Green Restaurant Association. Good news.

Making our way out of Emma's, I made a mental-note to come back.

Emma's Ale House
68 Gedney Way
White Plains, New York 10605
Phone: 914-683-EMMA
Fax: 914-683-6627
View Map & Directions

Resolution, Schemezolution,..., I'm Determined! And, This is Personal.

Hubby is right to laugh at me (note: not "with" me) when I declare to him my 2009 resolutions. It stings a bit; yet, we go through the same motions every beginning of a new year. There's a pattern, I cannot blame him.

Well, not this year. This year, I am determined.

According to studies, "40 to 45% of adults in the United States will make New Year's resolutions" and "40 to 46% of New Year's resolvers will be successful at six months." Heck. I want to be among the 40 t0 46% this year. And I will.

According to Dr. Norcross from University of Scranton, the resolutions need to be:

1. Realistic, hence attainable,
2. Part of an action plan,
3. Backed up with your own confidence, and
4. Declared publicly.

I'd like to believe I've checked off the first three requirements, and this entry is my public declaration. Here are my 2009 resolutions:

1. Body: Beyond just the body image and my perception of my physical self, I don't believe I've taken utmost care of my body. So, as part of my action plan this year, I'll be more conscious of what I put in it (declared a war on mono sodium glutamate and hydrogenated corn oil), complete a 21-day detox in January (already planned what I need!), and work out at least 3 times a week. I also would like to pick up on my running- I had a fairly good stamina- so, I want it back. Nothing like a runner's high!

2. Soul: Reading and writing are food for my soul. Although I am a verbal person and never shy to express my thoughts, I often find comfort in writing when my thoughts reflect my deeper feelings. Same goes for reading- I tend to read books that usually match my mood du-jour, seek for those moments where a book can provide some answers to what's going on in my life at that time. Both reading and writing to me are very closely related to listening to music, and a variety of it- minus some Folk, some Honky-tonk, Jug band, alcohol-infused Texan Country Music. I get my inspiration from music- lyrical and non-lyrical alike. So, this year, my resolution for my soul is to read, write and listen as much as I can! Part of my action plan includes writing on a daily basis, and taking little steps towards completing my story. I've already rejoined my trusted circle of writing friends; we start in February. Renewed my library card. Of course, I will put that iTunes gift card to use!

3. Mind: I admit, I cheated a bit on this one. This is not a new resolution per say, but rather one that I had made, pursued, and achieved, not yet accomplished. More explicitly, I had applied to a master's program at a school of my choice, and got admitted for this summer start. I am thrilled at this opportunity, one that I'd like to think that I worked very hard at achieving. At the same time, I don't feel that I am ready to celebrate this as an achievement, but rather take it in as a means to getting where I see myself going. This will be my resolution for my mind.

There. I've declared them all. Quite frankly, this does feel pretty good!

Give it a try yourself.

Mastic, Mastiha,... It's about Childhood Memories...

I have already professed my love to Korres, an all-natural brand that promotes the whole goodness of many things that I grew up with... The yogurt my Grandmother smeared on me after a sunburn, Korres has it in its moisturizers, body lotions, face masks,... You name it! Now, they've entered another territory, one that whooshes back so many memories, my mind is running faster than my fingers can type...

Spending time with my Grandparents in the summertime, we would make a summer pilgrimage to Cesme, a seaside resort that's now so huge, I don't even recognize my antiquated version. In Cesme, two things entered my life to remain forever: Kumru (buttery bread, often served with a slice of cheese, tomato and a green pepper for breakfast), and Mastiha or Mastic Pudding.

In the mornings, we would run over to the bakery and buy a few of the kumru's and then impatiently wait until I could bite into it with some Kashkaval cheese (feta cheese was not a "friend" until about my late-teens) and a tall glass of Coke. Sitting on the balcony, enjoying the salty breeze, and stream of "hello" and "good morning"s with walking-by neighbors were all part of the daily ritual. People asked about you and you wondered about the people who, one day, did not show up at their expected locations. I like to believe that Cesme retained some part of its charm today. In the mornings, we'd look over at the water, wax and wane about the direction of the wind and the tides as we planned for the day.

One of those summer days, I was introduced to Mastiha Pudding- a gum-my tasting pudding, sweet and pungent all at the same time. See, with the region's long history, the Greek and Turkish cultures intermingled, almost to a point that it was worthless to argue over which belonged to which tradition. It was (and I think it still is) commonly accepted that we had many crossovers, and may do the same things but with a slight twist in how we do them. Same went for food- a slightly different herb was used in stuffed grapes, or the size was altered a little- the bottom line was that both cultures enjoyed the bounty of the region.

Back to the Mastiha Pudding. I loved it so much that I asked for the recipe, and went ahead playing with it for many years to come. No one complained about my burning the bottom of the pan or adding too much mastiha, or making it too dense, or too soft- my family enjoyed my puddings in all shapes and forms.

So, when I was online ordering my favorite Korres yogurt face mask, I saw their line of Mastiha products, and like Emeril would say: Bam!, it flooded my nostrils with the smells of my childhood. I thought what a better way to start my morning but share my favorite recipe with you!

So, here it goes- it's so easy, so simple, yet the taste remains with you for a long time. I hope you enjoy it just the same. Play around with the ingredients, add a little more, a little less:

Ingredients
1 cup flour
6 cups 2% milk
2 tablespoons margarine or butter
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon gum mastic, crushed (Check out Mastihashop to purchase)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preparation
1. Heat the margarine/butter in a medium/large pot, making sure the heat is low so that you're not burning it.
2. Slowly add the flour with a whisk (similar to making of the Béchamel sauce), mixing it constantly.
3. Add the milk in small quantities and gradually so the flour does not get lumpy.
4. Add the sugar and mastic, and continue stirring until the gum has melted.
5. Stir all until the mixture, as my grandmother would say, gets the consistency of an earlobe.
6. Take away from heat, add the vanilla extract, and stir to make sure all is mixed in well.
7. Pour into a large rectangular serving dish or individual custard cups.
8. Let it cool completely outside, and then place in the refrigerator for some additional cooling time.

If you decide to use a large rectangular serving dish, you can cut the pudding into small squares/ rectangles when serving. Otherwise, single serving dishes are just fine.

If only life could be this simple again...

Watching the Sun Go Down...

"The light gradually forsook the deep water, as well as the deeper air, and the gloaming came to the fishes as well as to us, ..."

- Thoreau

Some things stay with us forever- and with me, the love of watching the sun set over the horizon has remained as one of the purest joys of summer. The simplicity of the experience is the same across the board whether it is sitting in my grandmother's white-washed porch, sinking into a chaise-lounge, cold marble under the feet, with the constant clicking of G&T's and the sweet sound of olive trees whispering against the glorious view of the sun dipping into the cold, salty Aegean sea, or it is bouncing gently on the Pacific waters, skimming the surface in a lean catamaran, with MaiTai's in hands, Jimmy Buffett in the background...

More choices have been added to enjoy the sunset against the lush Hudson River. This weekend, hubby and I explored the new Yonkers waterfront, and ended up at Whiskey Rio. There is plenty of seating outside- from small tables to cushioned sofas. The bar is set right by the entrance- and a small section of it remains on the sidewalk (too bad all four stools were occupied while we were there). The bartender and the prices are very nice and friendly- during ballgames, beer is $3, instead of the usual $5. Not too shabby... In terms of food, if you get the munchies, there's an outdoor grill where a young guy makes burgers and hotdogs. Plenty of people were helping themselves to the grill.

Personally, I loved the feeling of sitting outdoors, enjoying the combination of the sun and water, and good conversation with hubby- reminded me a little of bit of how Battery Park used to be before it got crowded with high-rises.

Will we go back? Yes! Next time, I might even think about heading to Pierview Restaurant right next door to the bar...

Those Pecan-Honey Buns...

The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd has a special place in my life: its publishing loosely coincided with our move to the 'burbs. I'd sit on our patio and get lost in the old South, and think of the tastes of honey buns, peach cobblers, banana cream pies,.. I was so inspired by the book that I dragged one of my friends with me on a quest to locate "honey buns" in my neighborhood. Well, we found them at a bakery at the Golden Horseshoe Mall nearby, and I have to be honest, they were very small and disappointing...

Recently, in honor of all the Honeybees out there, several publications included honey recipes in the past months. Recharged by my interest in honey buns, I've been tempted to bake them all- but I have to admit baking requires accuracy in measurement, preciseness in following directions, and most of all, abundance of time. I came very close to baking Martha Stewart's Honey-Glazed Beehive Cake, but couldn't justify buying the $39 (plus s+h) Beehive Pan from Nordicware. Where else would I use it???

Then I stumbled upon the Pecan-Honey Buns recipe in Food & Wine's August '08 issue. It screamed oozy-gooey deliciousness with crunchy pecans, and I could not resist. So, I set to gather the necessary ingredients from my local sources.

For the dough, you need:
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 tablespoons granulated sugar (I substituted Rapadura Whole Organic sugar)
1 cup milk, warmed
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus more for buttering
3 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons honey, preferably orange blossom or clover (use local honey here)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (I added an extra teaspoon or two)
3 1/2 cups plus 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting (I used a combination of whole wheat and all-purpose)
1 teaspoon kosher salt

For the topping, you need:
1/2 cup honey, preferably orange blossom or clover
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for brushing
1 1/2 cups pecans (6 ounces), coarsely chopped (Buy them whole- you may want to store them in the freezer, place in a sandwich bag, beat with a meat tenderized or anything that delivers some punch!)

For the filling, you need:
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 tablespoon cinnamon (I added another 2 tablespoons)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

Here are the steps:
1. Make the dough: In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle, combine the yeast with a pinch of granulated sugar and the milk and let stand until foamy, 5 minutes. Add the remaining sugar, the 4 tablespoons of melted butter and the egg yolks, honey and vanilla; mix until blended. Mix in the flour and salt. Switch to the dough hook and knead at medium speed until the dough forms a smooth ball, 4 minutes.

2. Brush a large bowl with butter. Add the dough and brush the top with butter. Cover and let stand in a warm place until doubled in volume, about 1 hour.

3. Meanwhile, make the topping: Butter a 9-by-13-inch glass baking dish. In a medium saucepan, melt the honey with the brown sugar and 4 tablespoons of butter over moderate heat until the sugar is dissolved, about 1 minute. Pour the hot honey mixture into the prepared baking dish and sprinkle with the pecans.

4. Make the filling: In a bowl, mix the sugar with the cinnamon. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the dough to a 12-by-18-inch rectangle. Spread the butter over the dough, leaving a 1-inch border all around. Sprinkle the dough with the cinnamon sugar. Starting at a long side, roll the dough into a log and turn it seam side down. Cut the dough into 12 slices. Arrange the slices, cut side up, in the baking dish. Cover and let stand in a warm place until the buns double in volume, about 1 hour.

5. Preheat the oven to 350°. Bake the honey buns for about 35 minutes, until golden brown. Remove from the oven and let stand for 5 minutes. Invert the buns onto a baking sheet and let cool slightly. Serve warm.

The pecan-honey buns, with my changes, came out pretty much how I hoped they would. There were altogether twelve of them- I ate one immediately and froze the remaining eleven (Ok, ok- I ate two!!) and then froze the remaining ten buns in an air-tight heavy freezer bag.

To reheat, I've been pre-heating my oven to 325° and keeping the buns in for about 25 minutes, you can adjust this time depending on the size and/or the number of buns. After the re-heating, the pecans come out a little crunchier, and have a more pronounced caramelized taste, which I love. If you don't like caramelized pecans, then you may consider covering the tops losely with an aluminum foil. Just make sure that there's enough room between the foil and the bun so nothing gets stuck.

For a little twist, you may want to add some raisins, blond or dark, or currants, which would provide a similar taste. Instead of pecans, you can also substitute walnuts. You might also want to add some nuts (pecans in this case) to the filling for that extra crunch.

As a 'nice' side, you may want to make some homemade lemonade (sun-brewed ones are the BEST), and for a naughtier side, you may think of some Bourbon on the rocks, or a little mint julep, made with reduced sugar so you are not bouncing off the walls!!

A little Janis Joplin on the side does not hurt...

Suddenly in the Burbs goes Foodie!

If you've been reading my blurbs about my trials & tribulations in the 'burbs, you might've sensed that finding, eating, and sharing food has been a passion of mine since I were a little girl.

One of my maternal grandma's favorite stories to tell (and retell) has been about me running up our marble steps while sniffing the air for the most exquisite meatballs she always made... I would (and still do!) light up in joy smelling the soft parsley mixed in with pungent cumin, fragrant onions, in 100% beef (and- no, thank you, all of you out there: I don't like to mix my meat groups)... She'd complement the dish with a side of rice pilaf and homemade french fries. And we would not even care about the double-carbs... All this wonderful meal would end with a chocolate pudding with coconut flakes for me, and a semi-sweet Turkish coffee for her. Typing these line in the midst of humid air of Westchester county, I can still smell the mix of these dishes- a talent that helped survive college cafeteria food.

I participate in a Writer's Workshop regularly- and my writing friends have urged me to continue writing about food. I have been. So, now my readers, you will find some more about food & some of my favoriate recipes here!

Cheers!

Our new addition...

It must be the stage of our lives- bridal shower invitations are turning into baby shower invitations, birthday parties at various drinking establishments celebrating milestones are turning into backyard BBQs celebrating first or second birthdays...

Yesterday, hubby and I were celebrating another kind of addition to our family- our family of electronic beverage machines: The Kegerator!! Keggy, as we named him, made himself very comfortable on our kitchen counter right next to my Tassimo. I think this morning, with my barely opened eyes, I almost poured myself some ice cold beer; I might, after all, change his location...

See, I did not know what a kegerator was until last week when a trusted friend suggested to buy it as a surprise for hubby; and I did not blink at the idea twice. Pulling out my credit card, I placed the order. After all, I thought, how much fun would it be to have it for our large gatherings?

Then the waiting period came, and I started wondering if it was the right choice to buy one. Was I regressing in age to college years? Scenes from keg parties rushed back to my mind- asking someone to tap the keg, guys pouring beer, basement parties,... I felt a little guilty. A little embarrassed. I wrestled with the thought. We own a blender to mix margaritas & daiquiris. A martini shaker for my fave dirty martinis. A wine rack. So, what was so different about this one?

Our 5-liter beverage dispenser arrived in its huge box. I emailed our friend immediately- the kegerator was here! Equally excited, we waited for hubby's reaction that evening. Needless to say, he was pleasantly surprised- started reading the manual in anticipation of the first keg that I promised that I'd get the next day.

The Internet provided several suppliers of 5-liter kegs- and I can happily report that the choices are not limited to Heineken and Coors:
Beer Geek: http://beergeek.stores.yahoo.net/5literkegcans.html
BevMo!: http://www.bevmo.com/productlist.asp?area=beer

Nearby, I located the following beer distributor:
Bavarian Beverage Center
643 Saw Mill River Road
Ardsley
(914) 693-3339

The verdict: Ice-cold beer, tap after another. Satisfied hubby, happy me. We're proud owners of Keggy.

Next, I may include him in our holiday cards!!!

The Invisible Hand

Where is it? I am looking at all corners, in the hidden white skirt of the dress- and I cannot find it. I swear it had been there. I tilt the photograph as if the light would do some magical trick on my eyes, and make the hand reappear in the place where the mind placed it.

I hold it at eye-level, look across the photo ink. No, it's not there. I check the empty spaces the waist left between the arms- they're filled with the white fluff of the hand-knitted dress. White pompoms. Watermelon cap sleeves. I check the darkened edges of the right hand resting on the right knee- do I see a shadow? If I tilted it a little bit to the left? A tad to the right? Maybe...

Reality: the hand is no where to be found. It is gone. And I am lost.

I am waiting for my hubby's call to see what train he's taking. I put the picture back in the frame. Back out of my mind. I cannot possibly write about a hand that I cannot see, I cannot find. The picture goes back into its silver engraved frame.

4 days later...

It had to be there. I pick up the frame, release the black clasps against the faux-velvet backing. I am determined. The hand has to be there. It's got to be.

I bring the photograph to a better lit spot, our dining room table. I set it against our blue place mats. I sit and stare. Somewhere, only George Michael is heard: "Don't let the sun go down on me..." I notice I am biting my lower lip, sinking my teeth deep enough to feel a tinge of pain. I leave the photograph. Walk over to get a glass of Puntalta- made from 100% Graciano grapes. My new fave. In my Riedel stemless glass. Even better.

I stare away from the photograph. The radio moves onto Pat Benatar. I close my eyes in pure disbelief. I am never wrong. How can I be so disillusioned about the hand in the picture? All these years, I thought the hand was holding me gently by my left side- with its gracious liver spots, the hand supporting me sitting up straight and tall and confident. I don't want to admit that I am mistaken- I could swear it was there. I cannot be wrong.

I take another full sip. I look at me when I was exactly a year old- that's more than 32 years ago. Sitting on some chair in some studio in Istanbul. My head looks big- I think it still is: I can barely get my Cape Cod sweatshirt on without some heavy-duty tucking & pulling! My left ear almost stands out. I am looking at a distant point, smiling. Perhaps, at the owner of the hand?

I am not so giggly in this picture- you cannot see my dimples. Yet, the double-chin is visible. There's some light reflecting off my eyes. No sign of teeth. Mouth clenched close. A white turtleneck layered under the white woolen dress. Wool always itches my skin. My hands resting on my knees. You cannot tell that I have long fingers. The right hand has dimples on it- so pudgy and still. Index finger bent in half, the others spread out. Black and white studio photo. A classic.

Maybe I pushed myself thinking there was a hand in this photo. Maybe I always wanted it to be there. Holding me up, encouraging me, supporting me- even in this silly studio shot. Those liver spotted hands: roughened by calluses; weathered by years; saddened by recent turn of events.

The hands that tended a picture-perfect rose garden, labored over coffee made just-right. The hands that I reached at 4 a.m. asking for food- caramelized flan, fried eggplant, chocolate pudding,...- and received. Same hands that gently walked out of the room after an afternoon nap. Same hands that solved crossword puzzles, mixed a mean gin & tonic, and fixed buttons.

Now, I cannot see the evidence. Where did it go?

Tomatoes at Trader Joe's

I didn't know about the tomato scare until a friend- fully pregnant- told me about her husband's warning on how she should limit her tomato intake. "No way!" I had said, "That's a total crime- life without tomatoes is like a tortilla without potatoes, or a ring without a band, or... Why are we being told what we can or cannot eat ALL THE TIME!!" You gotta be kiddin' me!!

I made my way to Trader's Joe in Hartsdale last Sunday morning to get some 'stuff' to prepare breakfast- after all, my cousin was over and we had nothing in the fridge to feed her other than some wine, vodka and frozen vegetables.

After snagging a shady spot in the vast parking lot, I was welcomed by stacks of watermelon and charcoal bags through the automatic gates of air-conditioned heaven. Baby, I was home!

Straight to the produce section, I stood in front of the bins and bins full of tomatoes- "Field of Tomatoes", my mind wandered: vine ripened, plum, roma, yellow, green, large, medium, small, x-tra small, minuscule, baby, grand, beefsteak,... How can tomatoes have salmonella? I reached for the Baby Romas- lined up so perfectly against the vine, tightly held up together, reminding me of contestants at a beauty pageant. So perfectly huddled together.

I held up the container in my hand, checking out the expiration date, if such things really existed. How can tomatoes expire, I questioned, when they get mushy, you make sauce out of them. I guess- though- everything in today's world have expiry dates- even we do! We first expire from a being a child, then expire from being a teenager, then expire from the ID-check at bars, then expire from motherhood, expire from work, sometimes expire from favor, and expire from wrinkle-freedom, expire from old age, and expire from the world... And we're conditioned to think this is just reality- whose I don't know- but I refuse. We don't have expiry dates just as tomatoes shouldn't.

I brought the container close to my nose- yes, I smell my tomatoes- as I do with all other fruits and vegetables before I buy them. These smelled of the 5-year-old me, picking out my very own tomatoes from my grandparent's veggie garden- barefooted, with braids in my hair, matching hair clips, a Mothercare sundress... Without the complications of SPF 15, SPF 30, SPF 45, zinc oxide, lather, reapply, wait, re-apply,... Pure, unaware, happy me. Picking up ripened tomatoes, bringing them close to my nose, inhaling the heady perfume of summer. Intoxicated by complete smell of tomatoes. Nothing else. The end of a hose nearby, washing and eating tomatoes. No salt, no basil, no buffalo mozzarella, no fresh cracked pepper, no olive oil, no balsamic vinegar needed. Uncomplicated tomatoes, uncomplicated me.

These are good tomatoes I said as my nose's job was done. Container still in my hand, my eyes wandered over to where I found them- I wondered if I should pick another container. Would they be better? I mean these were good, but would the others be more perfect? Was I getting the "best" batch of tomatoes available this morning? "C'mon, get over yourself," I thought to myself. Since when did you become a perfectionist? "Oh yeah," another voice rebelled in my head, "You always want the best of possible choices: best hairdresser, best nail salon, best technician, best pizza, best moisturizer, best this, best that! Who are you kidding?" That was right. Who was I kidding? Why would I ever settle for less than the best tomatoes?

Closer examination. I read the label: "Hydroponically grown." Huh? Since when did they start growing tomatoes in water? Not the least bit ashamed of my ignorance. Don't tomatoes get their earthly goodness from... ummm, earth? I chuckled to myself imagining of having this conversation at a high-tea gathering in a fancy southern colonial house with kids running around in country-club-perfect outfits: "Oh, dear, I only buy hydroponically grown tomatoes. The ones that come from earth, uh, so passe! They key is in the hydroponics of it!" A small high-pitched laugh. All the others around me joining me in my laughter, clicking their tea cups, staring at the symmetrically cut cucumber sandwiches. In a Oompa-Loompa fashion, "We've been buying hydroponic tomatoes for-EVER!" they say.

Where did that come from- I really cannot tell- but I should definitely be expired before such a day comes!

Hydroponic, schmydroponic, who cares?! They looked like tomatoes should, smelled the way they should- and hopefully, tasted like they should. I placed the tomato container in my shopping cart, and moved over to the eggs.

Here we go again...

In Search of a Decent Pie

Friday nights are ours; it's our date night. Hubby and I order a pie, grab a Netflix movie, sit back and relax... At times, we change our routine and venture out to outside venues to enjoy our pizza (and sometimes, the pizza turns out to be an "Eastchester" at Piper's Kilt or an order of extra-hot wings at Candlelight Inn, but that's another story...) and lately, we've been dare-devilish!

So, I've hit the guides- Zagat's, Westchester Magazine, New York Times reviews- to locate a cozy pizza spot that delivers thin (and dry- we later learn!) crust, good sauce (not too-sweet or too-salty), tasty cheese (no, rubber is not acceptable), and for toppings, hubby's favorite pepperoni crisp but not dried and/or burnt. Not too much to ask, you'd think, right? Oh, well...

For home delivery, we reached out to our neighborhood joint, the Venetian Delight Pizza off Central Park Avenue. They've been quite consistent with the quality of their ingredients but often times, either the pepperoni is undercooked, or the crust soggy, or the pie suffers from a mishap of shape shifting on route to our home. We've accepted it for the convenience. With that said, the very last time, as it turned out to be, we paid $17.00 for a small pie with half-pepperoni, half-plain small pie, hubby and I rioted! We couldn't help but wonder if the pie was being imported from our favorite Brooklyn spot, Grimaldi's... No mas!

So, we decided to try out "Red Barn Pizza" located in a cute Dutch colonial off Central Park Avenue. Hubby insisted that we "test-drive" it with a slice first, and then commit to a full pie. So, we stopped off on our way from the train station home on a rainy Friday night. The "pizza guys" were very nice- even offered some garlic knots along with our slices. Hoping that this would be the answer to our search, we dug into our slices. And, that's where the fairy tale ended. The sauce was too sweet, the garlic in the sauce too crunchy, and I'll just stop here and say that we headed to Sherwood’s for some ribs.

The next time, we turned to Muzzarella, a small spot on Hartsdale Avenue. We've never been inside the place (my gourmand friend warns that their experience of dining-in was not pleasant) but we pass by it frequently enough to add to our repertoire. We called in for a small plain pie. It arrived cold. So, I had to turn the oven on, wait for it to warm up, and then put the pie in, and 30 minutes later, we were finally eating. The whole process took such a long time that I chalked this experience off- our visions were blurred, stomachs yearning for some food, I think we would've eaten anything at this point. So, we smartened up! The next time, we placed our order and turned our oven at the same time. The crust was thin, not soggy, the sauce flavored, and the cheese tasted quite like, ummm, cheese. We liked it, but did not love it.

We then headed to a stand-alone pizzeria on Brook St., Mezzaluna. Its name reminded me of an amazing Italian restaurant in Istanbul that I used to frequent with my friends when I was in college. Having some similar expectations, we landed at Mezzaluna on a busy Friday evening. We were seated promptly in its tiny, little dining room, a little bit in the way of the wait staff. Our pizza was ok, not really distinctive. Quite frankly, I cannot remember any part of it that stood out in memory or on my tongue; yes, the crust was thin, the sauce decent, but nothing really called us to visit this place again. Perhaps, my expectations were set higher just based on my association with the restaurant that I loved, in any case, I wouldn't encourage or discourage anyone from trying this place out.

Exhausted by our search, I wanted to give Totonno's in Yonkers a try. The radio jingle reminds us that "only God creates better pizza" so I asked hubby to get off Bronxville so we can get there fast! Off Tuckahoe road, we drove up the hill on which Totonno's is perched inside the Ramada Inn. Before I go on further, I need to admit that I have this preconceived aversion to hotel restaurants. No matter what the reviewers say, or how good a restaurant can be (and, indeed there are many AMAZING restaurants housed in hotels across the globe, so I apologize if I offend any), there's something gimmick-y about hotel restaurants that I cannot even explain.

Well. Back to Totonno's. The atmosphere. There was an older gentleman at a keyboard playing and singing along to some golden oldies. This reminded me of "gazino"s (a restaurant/ entertainment venue, usually outdoors) that my grandparents used to take me as a child- one would go to the "gazino" for the entertainment- usually a popular singer, entertainer- and food was always secondary, or even tertiary to the opportunity of spending an evening with a company of friends and family. The clientele at Totonno's also reminded me of New Year's Eve's that I spent with my family as a child- ladies in outfits adorned by paillets, men in jackets, kids in their best dresses. Only, this time, it was hubby and I who were the youngest of the bunch. We ducked into a window spot overlooking at the lights of Yonkers. Was that the infamous seminary we saw? We couldn't tell. Back to the pizza. We got a plain pie. The crust was thin but soggy. Fresh mozzarella. Some basil leaves. Decent sauce. We ate. Apologized to God on behalf of the commercial jingles. We left. The older folks were polka dancing. We're never going back. Not unless we're taking our great-grandchildren...

The following Friday, we headed back to our dependable, what-you-see-is-what-you-get place, Pizza & Brew. Always with long lines, it has two locations: one in Scarsdale, another in Greenburgh off of Saw Mill River Road. We've never had a bad experience at this restaurant, but I would not claim that its pizza was one of the best that I've ever had. Although, at this rate, it was looking pretty good! With decent pies, it's the fast-food version of a restaurant experience. Fresh ingredients. Thin-nish crust, gooey cheese, and decent pepperoni. It's a nice fall-back location. And you always get what you expect.

I am inclined to classify A'Mangiare in the same category as Pizza & Brew but only with much better pizza. And perhaps, the best sauce out of all the ones we've tried. There's a number A'Mangiare's in the area: Bronxville, Pleasantville, Elmsford, and White Plains. We went to the movies at the Saw Mill movie complex so the Elmsford location was the closest. It's on Main Avenue (which is the same as Route 119), with ample parking in the back. Nice atmosphere. Thin crust- definitely very crispy. Not too-sweet, nor too-salty sauce. The same sauce is also used in the mini-pizzas in their baskets. Definitely worth a try. The pepperonis were spicy and crisp- not overwhelming the pie. Another perk- they have Captain Lawrence Brewery Company Ale on tap. Nice to sample local ale with good pizza. We left the place all happy and full. We'll see them- maybe at another location- soon!

In our search of a decent pie, we also sampled the deep dish at Pizzeria Uno's, both at its Yonkers and White Plains locations. Another what-you-see-is-what-you-get place, only at times, the results can be inconsistent. We've sent back pizzas for either being undercooked or overcooked. The inconsistency, especially to hubby, is a big drawback. The bar scene and the beers on tap are a plus.

There are more pizzerias that we sampled: Planet Pizza- way too-doughy, very like Domino's; although, much better red sauce. Sal's in Mamaroneck, a great slice joint with long lines.

Our quest is not completed, perhaps it never will. Unless we find our Grimaldi's or John's or Lombardi's here in Westchester...

Yogurt on My Back, Yogurt in My Tummy, Yogurt on My Face!

Whenever we got sunburnt under the Aegean sun, my grandmother would run to the fridge and bring out the yogurt- she'd smear the white goodness all over the burnt spots, which was usually cheeks, shoulders and back in my case. I'd feel like a goddess under the cool touch of the yogurt, and often pretend, I was a character from Dallas and Lucy was my best friend, summering with me...

My grandmother made the yogurt herself- from the fresh milk delivered to us by a short, stocky woman in flowery shalwars and brown slippers. She'd first boil the milk- her way of pasteurizing it- and then separate the creamy goodness (mixed in with honey and pecans/walnuts/almonds, the buttermilk would taste divine!), and then put aside some to be converted into her thick, creamy yogurts. Her yogurt was always the center of our meals- complementing the fried eggplant, or as a sauce on our manti, or in form of refreshing cacik or cold ayran, or mixed in with homemade sour cherry jam as breakfast or dessert...

Today, I am delighted to be able to find yogurt of similar consistency at my local A&P. My favorites are the thick and gooey Fage Total 0% or the Oikos brand's creamy version. Whenever I end up at Trader Joe's (and I seem to do so often!), I reach out for their own brand- it is equally de-lish. For a quick pick-me-up, I drizzle a little honey and sprinkle toasted pecan maple syrup granola, also from Trader Joe's. It's an all-time fave.

I have been reading a lot about yogurt and its earthly goodness, so I decided to mimic what my grandmother used to do- put it on my face! About a couple of months ago, I did some research on available products out in the market, and decided to try out the Korres brand. For my combination sensitive skin (oily t-zone, dry cheeks, hormonally-imbalanced chin), I had picked up their yoghurt velvety moisturising cream and yoghurt mask- both for normal and combination skin. The moment I spread the luscious goodness on my face, it took me back to our summer house with our olive tree whooshing against the salty breeze, the almost fluorescent pink and purple bougainvilleas draped against its white walls and my grandmother humming to a fasil on the AM radio...

The whole product line at Korres reminds me of the homemade remedies that I saw my grandparents use- my grandfather used to boil a similar concoction to Korres's cough syrup made with honey, fennel, aniseed and thyme. I am also enamoured with their White Tea fluid gel- a light cleanser that does not leave the face dry or with film. Usually very finicky, my skin is loving all of these products. Recently, I tried to switch to my previous face regimen- just because-, my skin cried out in red blotches and asked for the yogurt back!

Oh, I noticed that they have a yoghurt cooling gel for sun ailments- I think I might pick it up for this summer...

Girls Who Love to Treat, Lunch and Dine

It's complete Winter Wonderland outside! For some reason, I did not get enough sleep last night, but unexpectedly, and to my surprise, woke up with such gusto, just in time to drop hubby off at the 7:30 train.

Driving on all four-wheels, we passed by sleepy passengers waiting for various BeeLine buses along the main road. I have to tell you, there is something in the air, I could not stop smiling all the way to and from the train station. In honor of my mood, hubby got a luxurious drop-off spot, to everyone's envy, without getting a single flake in his hair. He was smiling, too!

Having the entire week off to myself, I called my girlfriends with whom I had not really had the chance to spend one-on-one time lately, and put lunch dates on our calendars. In preparation to my pampered week, I headed over to my favorite hair salon in Westchester, Salon Topaz in Dobbs Ferry, and submitted my hair to Lisa's creative shears. This was my second visit to this lovely place, and I left triumphant once again!

My first lunch spot was the New Leaf Cafe in Fort Tyron Park, in what's now called "Hudson Heights," (previously known as "Washington Heights" to those of us locals who knew the area before the real estate brokers capitalized on its gorgeous views of the Hudson River) a gentrifying neighborhood of professional moms and dads who work in nearby colleges and hospitals. The cafe is by the 190th Street stop on the A-train as you enter the park. It's a spacious cafe- with clean lines and tasteful minimal decoration.

My friend started with French Onion soup- looked less cheesier than its counterparts- while I sipped my Côtes du Rhône wine by the glass. My entrée arrived promptly- Mediterranean Salad with lemon-parsley grilled chicken and goat cheese. The dish was composed of simple and distinct flavors that blended in nicely with the rest of the plate. I am always afraid of the overpowering prowess of the goat cheese- but not here, not in this salad. (I think I might be able to replicate the grill chicken's flavor using a marinade like Emeril's Lemon Rosemary Gaaahlic at home) My girlfriend got the Crabcake Sandwich which was accompanied by architecturally designed potato chips and red cabbage cole slaw. She loved it and we both licked our plates clean!

The portions were not too big or small- just the right size that allowed us to venture into the land of desserts. And I'm glad we did! I usually have a weakness for warm tarts and tartelets filled with pecans and walnuts, and that's what the daily special was! Bingo for the tummy! My warm walnut tartelet arrived with a scoop of dulce de leche ice cream craftfully placed in a tulle of pastry. I was in heaven! My friend ordered the three-flavor ice cream and happily indulged in it. I was equally happy with our waiter who noticed that this was an occasion for two girls having lunch & talk, so he left us respectfully alone, only coming in to fill our glasses with ice water.

The same day, I met with another girlfriend for mani and pedis in Union Square. We went to my local fave spot, Jeniette, that I've been frequenting since about 1999 when I worked in the neighborhood. Jenny was not there; nonetheless, we had great service and lovely time getting pampered. And at a decent Manhattan price! From there, we headed over to Filene's Basement where I bought myself a pair of cashmere-lined dark brown leather gloves at a bargain price. The day was getting better!

Starved at this point, we went to the nearby unassuming but always crowded Spice and indulged in delicious Thai food. My girlfriend got my absolutely fave Drunk Man Noodles- spicy broad rice noodles, eggs, sweet basil, chili with chicken, shrimp & squid, and I got the Japanese Eggplant with Sweet Basil- sauteed eggplant with garlic, basil & chili sauce with chicken. We also indulged in Mango Martinis and Malbecs. Tummies absolutely full, we headed over to the Coffee Shop for caipirinhas and facetime. We got our end of the bargain AND a nice viewing of the total lunar eclipse. What a treat and a half!

My next lunch spot was a stone throw's away from home, at the Red Hat in Irvington. I had not been to it since it moved from its Main Street location to the waterfront in a converted warehouse. Oh- I have to mention, I went into the nearby One, thinking that it was the Red Hat, and found myself swiftly out the door when I did not see Red Hat's trademark lady in the red hat logo! By the way, my very food-savvy friend swears by One, and recommends it highly for those special occasion dinners. I also noticed that they have my fave appetizer: Caramelized Vidalia Onion and Goat Cheese Tart with peppered walnuts, roasted figs, acacia dressed baby lettuces on their lunch & dinner menu- perhaps, the next destination?

In any case, going back to Red Hat, the ladies welcomed us at the front door. There was a tad bit of confusion as to which one would take our coats, but alas, the coats off our arms, we headed upstairs to the dining room. What commanding views of the Hudson! We took our seats at a corner red banquette and started off with mini sourdough breads and glasses of iced water. The lunch menu looked simply divine- I could've had everything on it!

Upon my friend's recommendation (she'd been here a number of times), I ordered the Classic Salad Nicoise with seared yellowfin tuna, fingerlings, haricots verts, tomato, hard cooked egg, and lemon vinaigrette. I am often disappointed in the heaviness of such an intently light dish, and Red Hat did not disappoint me. The tuna was perfectly quickly seared, the lettuce lightly flavored with the lemon vinaigrette, and the haricot verts crisp to the bite. Again, I was in food heaven. My girlfriend was craving for something "egg-y" so she ordered the Warm Wild Mushroom Salad with toasted pine nuts, fried farm egg, shoestrings, and pinenut vinaigrette. De-lish! Both my girlfriend and I got lost in our food and conversation, we did not even notice that we spent about 2.5 hours- and not a single waiter bothered us! Now, that's a complete treat!

So, today's plan was to head over to Columbus Bakery in UWS with another girlfriend and indulge in their infamous tuna salad- a mix of tuna fish, green apples, cranberries in what they insist is yogurt, but I'd like to differ & think that it's more mayo-based. We used to have it at least once a week when I worked in the WFC 2. And I was thinking of, afterwards, heading over to Levain Bakery for their to-die-for chocolate chip walnut cookie...

Alas, mother nature is asking me to take a culinary break. So, as I am sipping my Mastro Lorenzo Crema that my Tassimo so diligently produces, I cannot help but think about what I will be having for lunch... I wonder if the roads to the Whole Foods will be cleaned by lunchtime to get fresh sushi... Hmmm...