Beer and Brats

Dara writes:

James and I spent Christmas in the snow and winds of Madison, Wisconsin with James's mother's side of the family. Every year, this family does a grab-bag of gifts, going on the premise of, if you bring one, you get one. It's a remarkably inexpensive and fun way to celebrate. This year, it was James's idea we do "consumables." We brought Greenmarket items.

The two things that made our grab-bag gifts were liverwurst from Flying Pigs farm in upstate New York, and Thunder Pickles from Katchkie Farm, also upstate. The pickles have a stunningly spicy, vinegary, and garlicky flavor. They don't crunch, but the taste lingers and beguiles. The Flying Pigs swine enjoy a good life under the care of Michael Yezzi and his wife, Jennifer Small, who are at the Union Square Market on Saturdays. We had to special order the pickles.

James's cousin from Milwaukee added Serbian cheese and meat pies to the grab bag. Another cousin from the South (Georgia) added pickled okra and lemon-artichoke spread. We were lucky enough to take home Wisconsin micro-brews and glasses from the Milwaukee brewery. Overall, the consumables idea was a good one.

Finally, it wouldn't be Wisconsin without bratwurst. James's uncle brought us to State Street Brats. State Street is the main campus drag. Of course, school was out, but we got a taste of the storied beer hall. Wanting to be virtuous, James and I ordered just brats--not in a basket with plain or spicy fries. The brat arrived swaddled in a chewy sourdough roll, wrapped in wax paper, and adorned with a pickle. We both ordered white brats, which were delish. I garnished mine with pickle relish, red onions, sauerkraut, ketchup, and mustard. I washed it all down with a Sunset Weisse beer. It was a fab, apricot-y, thick-but-not-heavy wheat garnished with an orange slice. It chased away the cold--and it was cold. More snow than I'd ever seen. And we basically flew in during a snow storm. Before we took off the pilot said, "Basically the whole flight will be bumpy." Superior!

But it was a superior Christmas!

Moms at Momofuku

Dara writes:

As readers of our blog know, James and I love David Chang's Momofuku Noodle Bar, in downtown Manhattan. We love it so much we decided to venture there, with our parents, for James's recent birthday.

We were excited to share our fave kimchee-laced brussels sprouts and sinfully rich ramen with our folks, but I guess we were in a bit of a bubble and failed to realize our parents might not want to crowd onto tiny stools for grub that doesn't quite fit in their comfort zone.

Our market research told us that on a weekend night we best arrive early. 5:20pm found us waiting outside the door, the first people there. The waitress who had told us "the line starts at 5pm" was a tad off the mark. No matter. What did matter was that my father had to arrive late, and, Momofuku being one of those "no reservations, we can't seat you until all members of your party are here" establishments, it gave us a tussle about our table. We had to insist we'd order for my father. The manager said that we could save a seat for him but that if the place filled up he'd have to give away that seat.

Now, Momofuku has grown very big in stature (and bigger in size, since it recently moved to a bigger space), which is great for it, but in the process it's gotten an entirely new staff. Not everyone is as mellow and cool (host with the wacky '80's haircut, I'm referring to you) as the old staff. And indeed, talking to this new manager was like being on the phone with Delta Airlines. There was no reasoning with him and he spit out dictates that didn't make sense in the context: to wit, our potentially having to cede my father's chair midway through the meal although we would have set the space and ordered food for him.

We made it to the table, though (as did my dad, about 30 min. later), and our mothers had to sit on their coats and wiggle into their stools. When the food came, they thought it was weird, but couldn't deny the tastiness of the kimchee and charred mackerel. The runny egg on top of the ramen frightened some at the table.

I think all in all we realized that while the dorm-room, guerilla theater elements of the restaurant thrill us, to our folks, it's a little shady. They dine out for comfort and ease, not necessarily to be challenged. And by the way, at around 6:30pm, there were still plenty of seats, although when we left at 7pm there was the proverbial "line out the door."

Wild Salmon to Close

Dara writes:

As I predicted right here in September, Jeffrey Chodorow's paean to the Pacific Northwest, Wild Salmon, will close at the end of this month.

I love salmon, but, as I said before, salmon is like chicken: in and of itself, it's boring. Therefore, the right stage for salmon is kind of a wild and crazy joint. And though Chodorow's place has "wild" in the title, it looked like a basement-level Sheraton conference room where one drinks Starbucks and nibbles on deli-sandwich quarters provided by Sodexho catering.

Good riddance, El Chod.