The Lunch Break Chronicles

ABOVE: Super spicy shrimp tacos at Casa Villa

12/25/2009

CASA VILLA: 182 WEST MAIN ST, STAMFORD

Being the junior member of what is now essentially a two-person department, I work Christmas almost every year. There is no real way to sugarcoat this; it pretty much sucks.

My family is 2,900 miles away in the San Francisco Bay Area and despite spending Christmas Eve at a friend’s house for an entirely enjoyable holiday meal, it’s a little depressing to find yourself cruising Stamford for a restaurant or grocery store that might actually be open on Christmas night.

Having failed to anticipate this problem and forgetting to shop for groceries the day before, my options were meager. Macaroni and cheese, cold cereal and other less-than-appealing options awaited me at home as I wandered the city searching for something open, warm and ideally, delicious.

But just when I thought all was lost, the light from a familiar storefront on West Main St. shone through the darkness. Like the Christmas Star leading the three wise men to that manger in Bethlehem, the neon ‘open’ sign in the window of Casa Villa beckoned. These eyes have not seen a more welcome sight and at this moment – I don’t know if it was the Spirit of Christmas or just my insatiable appetite for authentic Mexican food – I was flush with excitement for tonight, my friends, I would dine on tacos.

Behind the counter owner Alvino Villa worked frantically alongside an all-hands compliment of employees (including Alejandro, the star short-order cook). Casa Villa was busy churning out dishes even as – or perhaps because – the rest of Stamford was closed for business.

Sitting near the warm glow of the rotisserie oven, looking out onto the cold street with a flimsy paper plate of shrimp tacos in front of me, I realized that on a night like tonight, Casa Villa is more than my favorite neighborhood restaurant, it is a savior.

Mr. Villa, for rescuing my Christmas, I thank you. It truly was a Christmas miracle.

–CP

POST SCRIPT: I fly to SFO at 7 a.m. tomorrow and will still have plenty of time for family holiday time. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.

ABOVE: My first attempt at Kourambiethes.

12/14/2009

“It’s for Christmas cookies,” I explain, slightly embarrassed to be slipping a bottle of $4 brandy into my coat pocket, forgoing the paper bag at an East Side liquor store.” Though in retrospect, maybe I’d rather be seen as a cheap drunk than a compulsive baker.

I haven’t been down to Astoria for a couple of months and this is a problem. Artopolis, a bakery in this heavily Hellenic Queens neighborhood, offers some of the most unbelievable Greek pastries this side of Athens.

I can go on and on about the galaktoboureko and the baklava, but I have a soft spot for the kourambiethes; shortbread cookies with almonds and brandy, covered decadently in confectioner’s sugar. Lots and lots of sugar (this recipe calls for a pound of the white stuff).

They are wedding cookies, Christmas cookies and Easter cookies. Essentially, they come out when people are celebrating.

I call them a mid-morning snack.

The Chicago Tribune recipe:

WHAT YOU NEED:

1/2 cup blanched almonds

1 lb unsalted butter — softened

1 lb confectioner’s sugar

2 egg yolks

3 tbsp brandy

1 tsp vanilla extract

3 cup cake flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

WHAT YOU DO:

Pre-heat oven to 350′F.

Spread almonds in single layer on baking sheet. Bake, stirring occasionally, until lightly toasted, about 10 minutes. Remove from oven; cool, then chop coarsely.

Beat butter in large bowl of electric mixer on medium-high speed until very light and fluffy, 5 minutes. Add 3 tablespoons of the confectioners’ sugar; continue beating 3 minutes. Add egg yolks, Cognac and vanilla; beat until smooth. Beat in almonds, flour and baking powder until mixed well. (If dough is too soft to handle, add additional flour.) Shape scant tablespoons full of dough between palms into round balls or crescents.

Bake on ungreased baking sheets until set and very pale golden in color; 15 minutes. Remove cookies to cooling rack.

Place remaining confectioners’ sugar into sifter. While cookies are still hot, sift confectioners’ sugar over tops. Repeat twice at 20-minutes intervals.

THE BOTTOM LINE: Any recipe that calls for both butter and sugar by the pound is alright by me.

–CP

POST SCRIPT: Do not eat these while wearing a navy blazer shortly before walking into an Ivy League cocktail party. Or wear a bib.

ABOVE: The shrimp po’ boy from Jeff’s Cuisine

JEFF’S CUISINE: 54 NORTH MAIN ST., NORWALK

12/13/2009

Speaking of New Orleans and my new 3Gs iPhone (that replaced my earlier version that I broke last month), I wanted to test out the new camera.

What better to try it out on than a shrimp po’ boy at Jeff’s Cuisine in Norwalk. Though not anywhere near as good as the crawfish po’ boys I used to buy at Tony’s Seafood in Baton Rouge for about $5, it’s the best you can get around here.

I like mine dressed, so drag it through the garden, baby!

–CP

(Chris Preovolos/Baton Rouge Advocate, via AP)

ABOVE: Convict poker at the Angola Prison Rodeo, the self-proclaimed “Wildest Show in the South.”

12/13/2009

I stumbled on an interesting Hidden Kitchens radio story about food at the Angola Prison Rodeo while exploring the NPR app on my new iPhone.

If you’ve never been to the popular event at the Louisiana State Penitentiary, which more than lives up to its billing as the “Wildest Show in the South,” I’m not sure how to explain the bizarreness that is the prison rodeo. The prison is a working farm on the site of a former massive cotton plantation tucked into a bend in the Mississippi River. Driving into the penitentiary, you see the unsettling sight of inmates picking cotton while corrections officers on horseback keep a watchful eye on the fields.

But when you enter the 10,000-seat rodeo arena, it gets downright surreal. I can’t even adequately describe it, so just use your imagination. It’s brutal.

But the food is killer.

“You got things here that you can’t find in society,” says one inmate regarding the prison’s boudin balls (cajun fried hush puppies with sausage or crawfish inside). I don’t know what that means, but they are damn good.

And so is the etouffee.

LISTEN HERE: Broncos and Boudin.

–CP

ABOVE: Pumpkin soufflé. Of course, this is what it looks like after it had been frozen and popped into the oven to bake the next day.

11/25/2009

I realize it’s a little late for last-minute Thanksgiving menu additions, but I was testing out some pumpkin soufflés last night and thought it was worth a mention.

Even at this late hour, I haven”t decided what dessert I’d be going with on Thursday. I guess I’ll still make a pie, but this could be a lighter alternative at the end of a heavy meal.

I should have read the reader comments first, because basically everybody mentioned it was light on the pumpkin flavor and I concur.

But it’s definitely worth a shot, especially with the bourbon molasses sauce they recommend making.

READ THE RECIPE: Here

–CP

P.S. I made use of all the left over egg yolks in a custard-based ice cream to go with a chocolate cake for a coworkers birthday, but lets keep that a secret because it’s supposed to be a surprise.

ABOVE: The president serves up homemade wine at the Minturnese Social Club’s annual game dinner.

11/22/2009

Fluorescent panel lights cast a yellow pallor on the linoleum-tiled dining room at the Minturnese Social Club. It’s packed. All the folding tables and chairs are marked off by families or groups of friends. Frank Masone’s table here. Tony Cardillo’s table there. And in the center of the room, the Rizzi’s table is scattered with wine bottles as the patriarch, Tony, rushes about doling out plates of pasta and slaps on the back in equal measure.

“What’re you drinking?” somebody asks. From nowhere, a jug of homemade Sangiovese is produced and my glass is filled but before I can down it, somebody else insists I try their 2008 vintage.

This is how the monthly men’s dinner at the Minturnese club begins.

But this month is different, it’s the highly-anticipated annual game dinner and John Zinacola, a retired butcher, bagged a deer. The rest – rabbit, quail, pheasant and sausage – was store-bought, though still quite good.*

Everybody here is from a little Italian town in Lazio called Minturno and the club really is just a big family; there are only about ten surnames in the entire room and keeping track of which Tony is which Giovanni’s second cousin is a hopeless endeavor. They are stone masons, plumbers, barbers and electricians. They are doctors, lawyers, bankers and politicians. But above all else, they are Minturnese.

In the kitchen, Julio Pompa, Tony Cardillo, Tony Rizzi and John Zinacola churn out a four-course meal. They start with a selection of antipasto and finish with a plate laden heavily with three or four different types of game and a salad that nobody pays much attention to.

I struggle clumsily for a time with a knife and fork, trying to maintain a modicum of decency but the guys at my table pick up on this. “Use your hands, it’s better that way,” somebody says. Thus released from the constraints of polite society, I dig in. Ripping ribcage from hind-quarter, I scour the rabbit carcass for all it’s worth.

With the rabbit out of the way, one of the Giovannis (or maybe a Pasquale) walks over with a plastic bowl containing three quail halves. “You like these, right?” Certainly I do, but let’s be realistic. I arrived nearly an hour late and consequently received all four courses at once.  I have – quite literally – a lot on my plate.

The prospect of finishing the meal is actually somewhat daunting and as espresso is being sent down from the bar (accompanied by the requisite Styrofoam cup of sambuca), I’m still working on the linguine with pheasant sauce.

As the crowd thins out – or rather, heads up to the bar – we manage to wrangle a handful of guys to roll some bocce. In the waning days of fall, this may be the last game I play this year and the threat of a few bocce-barren months is not lost on John Mallozzi, ”we need to put a cover over this so we can play in the winter,” he says with hopeless optimism.

Now that’s what I’m talking about. Tuzza la rosa!

–CP

*In all fairness, I believe a couple of Mallozzis were involved in the deer hunt, but amid all the activity at the dinner, I lost track of to whom the credit is due.

ABOVE: Huevos Rancheros for 7 bucks.

MAYA RESTAURANT: 166 STILLWATER AVE., STAMFORD

11/21/2009

When I walked into the Maya Restaurant on Stamford’s West Side today, I was horrified to see that the pastry case was missing. No more tres leches cake?

Fortunately, it had only been moved to the rear of the restaurant which was busy serving up big breakfast plates. We both went for the Huevos Rancheros, traditionally a Mexican dish, but this being a predominantly Guatemalan establishment, there were differences like the super-thick corn tortillas and the inclusion of fried plantains.

Maya replaced Corelli’s bakery, a long-time fixture on the West Side, reflecting the demographic shift the neighborhood has witnessed over the years. They opened with summer with a spacious dining area out front and outdoor seating along the side of the restaurant.

Most of the food here is Guatemalan.; the pupusas are popular, either filled with cheese or pork, both deliciously greasy and served with a plate full of wicked-hot pickled peppers.

Oddly enough, they serve a lot of Peruvian food as well. I’m coming back to try the lomo saltado. Choices at Maya run the gamut, you can drop in for a $2 pupusa for sit down for a full meal of steak or fish.

And then there’s dessert. I go for the tres leches cake which is appropriately soggy and sweet with condensed milk and a sugary icing.

–CP

CHINESE MIRCH: 35 ATLANTIC ST., STAMFORD (DEAL INKED)

11/12/2009

A lease has been signed for the currently vacant space at 35 Atlantic St., the former location of Galangal in downtown Stamford.

Chinese Mirch, an Indian-Chinese fusion restaurant with two locations in Manhattan (Murray Hill and the Upper East Side), will open in downtown Stamford according to Steve Matsis of Capital Restaurant Group, LLC.

Has anybody been to the Chinese Mirch in New York? What do you think?

FROM THE TIMES (2004):

Chinese Mirch is the first Manhattan restaurant to serve this strange but satisfying hybrid of two of the city’s favorite cuisines. Chinese-Indian food, like Chinese-Cuban and Chinese-American, took shape when a community of Chinese immigrants had to stretch its home cooking to accommodate a new environment and new ingredients. (The most notable adaptation on the menu at Chinese Mirch is its omission of pork and beef, which are forbidden, respectively, to Muslims and Hindus, the two dominant religious groups in India.)

CHECK IT OUT: Reviews from the New York Times,  New York magazine, Yelp, or Open Table.

–CP