Bi-coastal Pronvincialism

Dara writes:

I got some very good feedback on a recent post about Target from a woman in Alabama. She reminded me that New Yorkers can be very provincial; Ms. Herbitter averred that while compared to the MoMA Design Store Target might not be much, compared to Wal-Mart it is manna from heaven.

While we New Yorkers can navel-gaze, we can also forget the rest of the country and zoom right on out to California. One example of our coastal myopia is the writing of Kim Severson for the "Dining" section of The New York Times. Her role seems to be bringing dispatches from California; no wonder: until recently she was a staff writer at The San Francisco Chronicle. Don't we have enough voices from CA?

This past week, Ms. Severson wrote about a fire that destroyed a beloved Northern California inn. The caption below the photograph of the inn read as follows:

"RUSTICITY Manka’s Inverness Lodge was known for its quirky menu."

For a moment I thought I was going to read about a quaint little restaurant of which I would not have otherwise known. Instead, Ms. Severson informs her readers that

"Manka’s fed actors like Frances McDormand and Brad Pitt and writers like Isabel Allende and Robert Haas."

Indeed, the day of the fire, actors Maggie and Jake Gyllenhaal were guests at Manka's. The thing is this: if I want to encounter Jake Gyllenhaal, I can nibble chicken paillard at the over-discovered Manhattan restaurant Pastis (as I recently did and sat next to him). If I want to read about food and scenery a bit more extraordinary, I might need to look beyond food writers whose main pipeline is the next Jet Blue flight to Oakland.

Food: Pickles

Dara writes:

I mentioned below how I loved the pickles curated by David Chang of Momofuku. The ones with which I decorate a rice bowl at the Ssam Bar tickle me green. But I forgot to mention how divine the seasonal pickles at Momofuku Noodle Bar are. Chang chooses to dip carrots, brussels sprouts, turnips, mushrooms, and other unsuspecting veggies in vinegar, and his chefs plate them to create a beautiful cornucopia.

As I just praised a pickle purveyor, karma has it I must now slam one. I choose to slam Rick Fields, who created Rick's Picks, which he peddles at the Union Square Greenmarket. Rick may look like a Lower East Side hipster-cum-Catskills organic farmer, but folks, he was a TV producer and went to Yale.

I went there too, which is how I know; I first learned of Rick not in the Dining Section of The New York Times, where he has indeed been mentioned, but in the Yale Alumni Magazine, which ran a "Where They Are Now" column about him in a 2005 issue.

Since in 2005 I walked through the Union Square Greenmarket each day on my way to work, I decided to meet Mr. Fields. I introduced myself and said I read about him in the Alumni Magazine. He grunted. I think he looked away.

Oh, I see: your affiliation with the Ivy League doesn't quite go with your residence on a street corner in downtown Manhattan. Ruins your cred, does it? Ruins your customer service, more like it.

I inherited my passion for pickles. Recently my mother took my cousin and me to a swank lunch on the Lower East Side, and perhaps to balance her karma, she followed the tony lunch with a stop at the corner pickle-barker, who hawked pickles out of big barrels on the street. The lusty woman purveyor fished dills and sours from the briny broth and poured them into plastic containers. It all felt very Jewish Lower East Side circa 1918. My mother waxed nostalgic about buying all her underwear at Goldbergs, back in the day.

Underwear: yes, I need underwear, thought Mother. To my and my cousin's absolute mortification, my mother asked the large, lusty pickle purveyor about where, around here, she could buy panties.

If I could think of a living soul I would be less inclined to ask about undies, it would be the lusty pickle purveyor.

Oy.

Restaurants: Momofuku Ssam Bar

Dara writes:

I love it when most people leave New York City and I can pretend I have it all to myself. Such is the occasion on the Friday of Christmas weekend--especially when the rain pours.

James and I took the opportunity to revisit the more casual restaurant of David Chang, he of Momofuku Noodle Bar, which critics worship. You might remember that I was negative on the Ssam Bar here. In fact, I have changed my mind; the workings of the Bar have changed.

When I first went to the Bar a few months ago, I ordered a Ssam (a Korean burrito), and while I liked some of the ingredients--the pickles, cole slaw, and spicy sauce--the next day I felt a bit less happy to have ordered it. Now the process has been deconstructed, so that when you go up to the counter and place your order, you can pretend you are at Subway and really make your meal as you go.

Now I get the rice bowl instead of the Ssam. The rice bowl is just rice and you add a protein. I always go for the Berkshire pork because it is tender, high-quality, and delicious. Then, because I can order as I go, I avoid beans, edamame, and others bits that don't agree with me. I pile cole slaw, ginger-scallion sauce, and portobello pieces on the rice and am satisfied. Also: as far as I am concerned, David Chang makes the best pickles in the city. Tonight I let James eat some of my bowl but absolutely insisted he not touch the pickles.

In case you were surprised up there by the word counter: yes, this restaurant is cafeteria style. You stride in past the burnished wood bar on one wall and the roomy wood communal tables along the other wall. You pass the big picture of John McEnroe and place your order at the counter. You pay and then, since every time I have been I have shared the restaurant with only a few others, you take a whole "communal" table to yourself. I once met a fellow teacher here to plan a week of lessons and the space and quiet proved essential to the success of our meeting. Not that it's completely quiet: the Rolling Stones invariably mix with hip-hop and rock on the playlist. And by the way, the restaurant does get busy, and on weekends stays open until 2:30am--at which point table service gets the job done.