Spring in the City

SPRING IN THE CITY
Gramercy Park | New York, NY
© Dolcetto Confections | Allison M. Veinote, 2011

Four & Twenty Blackbirds

A few Sundays ago, I fell head-over-heels in love with the first sweet bite of my slice of Salted Caramel Apple Pie. I wiped a piece of the flaky crust, studded with a fleck of fleur de sel, from the corner of my mouth while simultaneously loading my fork with the next perfect bite. Perhaps I should preface this by saying I have been, up until this very moment, completely unimpressed with the pie movement which seems to be overtaking this city. Are pies the new cupcake? Maybe - but flavorless, dense crusts encasing mediocre fillings peak my interest even less than cloyingly sweet icings piled upon dry, crumbly cakes. If I can create a better version of a dessert at home, you can bet I will not be paying anyone for sub-par baked goods.

And until this first bite of flaky, apple pie passed my lips, I would have sworn on my life, my mother's happiness, and the graves of my great-grandmothers that my family holds the best recipe for apple pie. So imagine my profound shock - but what a sweet shock to bear - to be proven utterly incorrect. I chewed over this little dilemma, seated in a rickety wooden chair in this little pie shop nestled in Brooklyn, foamy cappuccino in hand. Touché Four & Twenty Blackbirds!



Four & Twenty Blackbirds
http://birdsblack.com/
439 3rd Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11215-3119
P: 718.499.2917
Note: Cash only
Hours: Tuesday to Friday: 8am – 7pm, Saturday: 9am – 7pm, Sunday: 10am – 6pm

Happy Easter!

© Dolcetto Confections | Allison M. Veinote, 2011

Baked Eggs with Pancetta and Basil

Saturday mornings are my favorite time of the week. My eyes lazily open to the sun brightly peaking through the wooden blinds and I pull my fluffy down comforter up to my chin. Whoever gives up their ground on the bed first is silently required to put on the first pot of coffee for the day, which sputters and fills the apartment with its scent, usually stirring the other from sleep. We slowly migrate to the living room, where we sink down into the soft leather couch, cup of coffee in hand, and relax a few sips longer.

Breakfast is a distant thought, as I will my coffee to last a little longer to keep me from facing a sparsely stocked fridge, destructed by the hectic lives of two working adults. Around 11 am, when my stomach starts voicing its displeasure about not being fed, I am forced to start the conversation, "What would you like for breakfast?" I shuffle to the refrigerator to take stock of our options. It is a good start to the day when there are both fresh eggs and whole milk awaiting me - pancakes it is! - but that was not the case last weekend. A mish-mash of items greeted me: eggs, pancetta, leftover red sauce, and more basil than I knew what to do with.  A torn loaf of semolina bread rested on the cool granite counter and my eye caught the flash of extra oranges, leftover from a baking project forgotten during a busy week.

I warm the oven, crisp the thin pancetta rounds in a hot skillet, then warm the red sauce in a bit of the residual pancetta fat. I haphazardly layer the components in two individual cast-iron bakers, crack two eggs over each, and sprinkle with a pinch of coarsely-ground pepper. As these bake and the griddle heats, I half the oranges and release their juices. Uneven slices of semolina cook on the griddle. The baked eggs emerge from the oven, the whites just barely set to ensure a delicious, runny yolk. I instruct Mike how to chiffonade the fresh basil to scatter over the eggs, as I pull the grill-marked bread from the heat.

Breakfast is served.

Charleston, South Carolina

After a relaxing vacation on Kiawah Island, the female members of our group made a day trip to Charleston while the boys squeezed in another round of golf. I have been excited to visit Charleston for some time now; in fact, whenever we were in a 3 hour radius of the city, I would beg Mike to go. When his friend moved to Charleston, I suggested a trip. But I finally, finally had the chance to explore this beautiful city, even if just for an afternoon.

Sipping on peach iced tea during lunch at Palmetto Cafe set the mood for a sunny, Southern day. We explored the shops and then the market, where we fell in love with every seagrass basket along our path. We stocked-up on pastries and admired the iron gates. And as we drove along the water, gasping at each house we passed, I made the executive decision that Mike and I should move there when we grow up. I did not consult him on this decision, but rather made-up my mind and informed him of this later. I do this often - make decisions about parts of our adult life - though usually these decisions are smaller, such as the reclaimed farmhouse table that we will one day share meals upon.

So for now and the foreseeable future, we will stay Manhattanites. But every time I need a little break from the pace of city life, I find my mind drifting back to one of those houses, with porches on both sides of the house and the open windows and doors allowing a cross-breeze to drift through the house.