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The Rise of Coconut Oil

Coconut oil roasted yams - photo by NYTimes.com

A belated re-post from the Times dining section. It seems more people are catching on to my best friend, coconut oil. In its unrefined form, thick coconut oil is nutritious, moisturizing and antibiotic, and has featured in my kitchen and bathtub since I started first reading Michael Pollen and the Know Your Fats guru, Dr. Mary Enig.

Plus, it's unbelievably delicious.

Once a Villain, Coconut Oil Charms the Health Food World

By Melissa Clark

A FEW years ago I noticed something odd at the health food store. There, rubbing elbows with the extra-virgin olive oil and cold-pressed canola oil was virtually the last fat I expected to see in such esteemed company: coconut oil. 

The last time I checked, coconut oil was supposed to be the devil himself in liquid form ...

(Continue reading at nytimes.com)

 

 

Daikon

As my compatriot would say, "just because."

 

Weird, Icelandic sculptures appear in Midtown

Dag Hammarskjold Plaza, with its leafy shade, peaceful fountains and weekly farmers market, is my little private sanctuary in East Midtown.

Political protests and public art have come and gone from this little plaza, which is named for a former head of the nearby UN. But walking through it recently, I was struck by something new and alarming: pairs of androgynous, faceless, life-sized human sculptures, seated seemingly at random throughout the plaza.

photo from steinunnth.com

Creepy, or wildly cool? As always, I turned to my google master for some perspective.

According to the New York City Department of Parks and Rec, the figures are the handiwork of the well-known Icelandic sculptor Steinunn Thórarinsdóttir, whose work has been installed across public spaces in Europe, Japan, Australia and the U.S.

Apparently, her themes lie somewhere in the ballpark of highlighting the subtle interactions between people.

It's hard not to notice, for instance, that the plaza's figures are placed in such a way that a viewer is physically between two figures who seem to be in some sort of silent conversation.

Thórarinsdóttir's figures at the University of Georgia - photo by UGA

The official Parks and Rec statement is that the installation, Borders, will connect the UN's "many diverse constituencies to new artistic experiences" and "foster conversation" at the plaza's very public space.

But I smell something deeper here.

In his essay The Privacy of Emotion, art historian Erik Thorlaksson points out that while the initial experience of eating lunch next to a cast iron human figure might be common to all viewers on the surface, any further meaning is a deeply personal one:

"Some critics have noted that Thórarinsdóttir’s mostly asexual figures, be they whole or ‘broken’, seem to convey an eerie atmosphere of loneliness, isolation or even sadness; others have seen the same works as monuments to meditation, dignity and peace within an individual at ease with himself. However, such analysis only scratches the surface of her works, but that is exactly where all shared interpretation comes to a stop: we can share views on what we see, but the figures give nothing away of what rest within."

Whatever the public reaction, I'm looking forward to a long summer of watching diplomats in black suits, interns and construction workers alike, all equally bewildered by these eerie figures.


Borders  runs from March 24 through September 30, 2011.

How not to drink. Ever.

Warning: what follows is yet another curmudgeonly post.

What do New Yorkers dread about springtime? The annual invasion of the city by out-of-towners dead set on drinking until they vomit, usually wearing some form of green plastic.

You know who I mean. If you've spent even a few St. Patrick's Days in Manhattan, you've inevitably seen these guys, or someone very much like them:

Photo by wpix news.

They're not there when you head off to work in the morning, but by lunchtime they've crept into your favorite Irish dive (like my office local, Keats, on 2nd Avenue). And by evening they've poured out onto the streets, yelling drunkenly and crossing the street right in front of your damned bicycle.

And the green puke. Oh, the green puke.

As the Hudson Reporter points out, it could always be worse. Check out their link to CoEd magazine's photo essay featuring the St. Patrick's Day festivities in nearby Hoboken, New Jersey. Eerily reminiscent of a certain basic cable reality TV show, isn't it?

And if that doesn't cheer you up, you can still take heart! You have all of 364 days before the next onslaught.

Brooklyn Booze Experiment

A belated nod to the latest in the Brooklyn Food Experiments series, the Booze Experiment! No, it's not a fratboy-style all-you-can-drink Friday night. This amateur cooking competition, which has previously featured such themes as tacos, chocolate and and brunch, this time tackled food cooked with alcohol. Needless to say, I was in attendance.

If you haven't been to one of these fine events, here's how it goes: on an unassuming Sunday, 20 to 25 amateur competitors flood into the main ballroom at the Bell House, a big, rambling Gowanus music venue. They carry stockpots and chafing dishes full of prepped and ready-to-serve ingredients. They line up in a ring around the room and wait for the hoards of hungry diners to arrive.

And then arrive we do. It's admittedly chaotic, but in kind of a fun way.

Plate of booze-infused samples. Photo by Han + DianaEats!

By way of background, the Food Experiments series is the brainchild of chefs Theo Peck and Nick Suarez, both famed for their dominance along the New York cookout circuit. (Yes, this exists. Think: Fondue Takedown 2008, Cassoulet Cookoff 2010, and, of course, the great Chowder Slam of 2009.) The former rivals are now semi-celebrities in the food media, and the Food Experiment events regularly sell out.

The Booze Experiment was not my favorite in the series, but it did provide for some really unique flavor twists - particularly in the savory category: fondue fennel with pastis tomato jam, empadados made with rum and coke pork, and the rich bourbon braised shortrib that took first place in the Audience Awards.

The sweets were no slackers, either. The blood orange ricotta doughnut filled with Rittenhouse Rye dark chocolate was a standout, though not my taste, as was the pecan pie with vanilla bourbon ice cream.

Pecan pie. Photo by Han + Diana Eats!

For their next trick, Theo and Nick are taking the show on the road. They just finished the first event in their national tour, a Pork Experiment in Austin, TX (oh, to have been there for that one!) and are planning stops in New Orleans, Washington, Philadelphia and Boston.

The Invisble Dog Art Center

Spent last Saturday evening at an opening at the new(-ish) art space in Cobble Hill, The Invisible Dog Art Center. A fascinating find! It's simultaneously sleek, exciting and tongue-in-cheek. Let me explain.

According to the center's website, the Frenchman/theater professional/recent New York transplant Lucien Zayan discovered the building at 51 Bergen Street in 2008, and, with the support of its owners, converted the rundown former factory into an art space. It's a beautiful, stripped-down, high-ceilinged building, still very much in the raw state of its 20th century production history.

If you know the Smith Street area in Cobble Hill, you'll know that stumbling upon a rustic gallery run by a charmingly ironic group of artists is something of an aberration there. (In recent years, Smith Street has come to personify precious, boutique-filled, fine-dining Brooklyn.) This place is more Bushwick chic than anything else.

"Prana"

"Work/Space"

Last weekend's opening welcomed two new exhibits, Chris Klapper and Jen Lukker's light sculpture "Prana" and Julien Gardair's projection installation "Camera Locus 2." It also opened its fascinating working studio spaces to public viewing in a project called "Work/Space."

Best yet, the art was largely interactive, and during the open studio, many of the working artists were on hand to chat about their work - be it sinewy wire sculptures, life scenes in miniature, or charcoal slashes on brick. If you're looking to have a very different evening from the usual downtown gallery-going scene, head to this place and sniff around.


Addendum: What did the factory at 51 Bergen originally produce, you ask? None other than the famous gag gift, the Invisible Dog Walking Leash! OK, so I still don't really get this joke. Apparently, however, in 2009 a flash mob of some 2,000 Brooklynites walked their invisible pets through the streets as part of an Improv Everywhere event, egged on by none other than the Art Center folks themselves.

Repost: The superstar chef who couldn't taste

Grant Achatz (photo by beall + thomas)

I've mentioned before that I'm not much for the tell-tale signs of the "molecular gastronomy" movement - namely foams, gels, gums and gravity-defying charcuterie - but this recent article from Salon on Alinea's Grant Achatz, and news on his new memoir, definitely merits reposting. Enjoy!

By Francis Lam

"At some point during my first meal at Grant Achatz's restaurant Alinea, I started giggling. There had been no joke - I just started giggling. Soon, I was bouncing up and down in my seat, laughing almost uncontrollably, and then  suddenly teetered on the edge where I didn't know if I might start crying. I was, as they say, emotional, and I couldn't exactly say why. Three years later, I returned with my special ladyfriend, and, at some point during our dinner, she took a bite, skipped the giggling, and just started crying. And looking around the room, we were not the only ones to feel this way. I don't use this word lightly, but it takes a genius to create meals like that.

(Continue reading this article, care of Salon.com)

Guatelama!

Update: winter blues much relieved by a recent journey to Guatemala! This is truly one of Latin America's most underrated countries.

Market ladies, selling fresh chicken

Like so many places, it's poor but vibrant. The country has struggled against some intense odds over the course of its history, from repeated Spanish slaughters of the Mayans - from whom most Guatemalans are descended - to a bloody political movement suppression spanning the 1960s, 70s and 80s. (It was only in the last decade that the country has seen some real peace, said my taxi driver as I first rolled into town.) And although the country is still prone to crime, the Guatemalans I met were warm, friendly and generous.

That brings me to the food. Central American food is not known for being, um, refined - in fact, it's mainly grilled or fried chicken, beans, and  hand-patted tortillas. But, as usual, a little digging yielded some gems.

First, the fruit: There's a bustling - though admittedly environmentally unfriendly - trade in tropical fruit from the Pacific Slope region up to the capital and the touristy lake region, where I was staying. Gorgeous fruit! I'm a tropical girl, so the small, sweet, black-spotted mangoes were a personal favorite. (Guatemalans are also crazy for smoothies, which they call liquados, a nice change of pace so long as you stay away from those made with tap water.) Avocados grow like weeds in most of the country, so you can expect truly fine guac on everything.

Next, the beans: My travel buddy and I engaged in much debate about the incredible, rich, sticky black beans that accompanied every typico breakfast we ate. I have a fantastic - and very secret! - family recipe for frijoles negros, but there was something about those Guatemalan beans that defied my culinary understanding. Delightful, very cheap, and totally ubiquitous.

Desajuno typico - breakfast!

Finally, the wrapped-things: Tamales (red and black), tamalitos (tamales, but tiny), paches and chuchitos. All are filled with varying quantities of sauces and meats, bundled in corn husks or giant banana leaves, steamed and sold in every market in town. We took these chuchitos along on a hike up a 10,000-foot volcano.

And, because the scenery was every bit as inspiring as the food, a parting shot:

Our view - Jaibailito de Atitlan

Now go, buy your ticket!