Alligator Sausage and Shrimp Cheesecake

In honor of the Saints making it to the Superbowl, here is a recipe for one of my favorite things from my days in New Orleans. Jacques-Imo's Alligator Sausage and Shrimp Cheesecake. Jack gave me a copy of the recipe one night when I asked him how he made it during one of those three-hour waits for a table which you passed drinking a six pack or whole bottle of wine per person. Since alligator sausage isn't easy to come by, you can easily substitute any sausage or, if you want to make a veggie version, you can pick your own vegetables to substitute. I'm substituting portabellas for the one I'm making tonight (just make sure you cook all the liquid out of them -- you don't want to end up with a pile of goop). You'll need a 10" spring form pan and a 2-inch hotel pan large enough for that to fit inside of to make this recipe. There's a sauce that goes with it that is made up of creole mustard, tomato sauce, sour cream and regular cream, but I don't have the proportions for that...anyway, enjoy!:

1 1/3 cups bread crumbs
2/3 cup parmesan cheese
4 ounces butter, melted
1 1/2 lbs. cream cheese, softened
4 eggs
2/3 cup cream
1/3 cup smoked gouda
1 onion, diced
1 1/2 green peppers, diced
1 yellow or red bell pepper, diced
1/2 lb. sausage
1/3 can green chili pepper, diced
1/2 lb. shrimp, diced
1 pinch salt
1/2 tbs. Paul Prudhomme's Fajita Magic
1/2 tbs. chipotle powder

Mix bread crums and parm, add butter and press into a 10-inch spring form pan, bake 10 minutes in a 400 degree oven

Whisk cream cheese until smooth. Add eggs, whisk, add cream and gouda

Saute veggies with spices until soft. Add shrimp and cook until just done. Add sausage and chilis. Fold into cream cheese mixture.

Wrap foil around pan to prevent leakge and fill pan with mix.

Bake in water bath (a 2-inch hotel pan filled 1/3 with water) in a 450 degree oven for 1.5 to 2 hours.

Remove when an inserted knife is clean and the filling is set. Cool to cut.

Remove from spring mold and cut into 12 pieces.

Banh Mi Insanity

Following stories in the Times and New York magazine and a ton of other places, we finally decided to check out the Vietnamese sandwich craze currently gripping New York. Served on preferably freshly-baked demi baguettes, Banh Mi usually contain pickled carrots, daikon, cucumber, cilantro, jalapenos (although I usually get mine without) and Sriracha. Although the main ingredient can vary (sardines, mushrooms, fried fish, chicken), the classic Banh Mi includes cha (pork roll), ground pork and Vietnamese ham. They've obviously been around for years, but for whatever reason, it seems like people here are going nuts for them and, at the risk of being pegged as another hanger-on to the most recent fad, that includes us. The past few weekends, we've made a handful of trips all the way down into the depths of Chinatown to try all sorts of Banh Mi, into narrow little store fronts, in the back of jewelry shops and across countertops stacked with all sorts of pre-made foods wrapped in cellophane I couldn't even guess at. The beauty of Banh Mi is their price: the standard classic in Chinatown goes for about $3.75 ($1 more for extra meat, which I recommend) and that's usually filling enough for a meal, although a side of summer rolls might or might not be too much to go with the sandwich. Outside of Chinatown, a classic is closer to $5, but still not a price worthy of complaint. It's hard to explain how truly addictive they are: the crunch of the cucumber, carrot and daikon is so new and different, the pork and ham so much more tasty than you expect (in my book, Vietnamese cooking does more to bring out the great flavors in pork than any other culture) and the crusty french bread like that you'd find on a po-boy. Our first introduction to Banh Mi was at Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwiches in Alphabet City. I'd later discover there's one in downtown Brooklyn and have ordered delivery more than once. Nicky's delivers the classics, but after repeated orders from the Brooklyn outpost, I found them to skimp on the pork and load the sandwich with too much daikon (not to mention unreliable delivery), so I was turned off Banh Mi for a while. Then we discovered Baoguette, which has locations on 26th & Lex and on St. Mark's Place near 2nd Ave. True they have the outside-of-Chinatown prices, but they also have less traditional versions like the "Sloppy Bao," which is like the Southeast Asian version of a Sloppy Joe: curried ground beef in a brown sauce slopping out of the baguette with green mango strips, thai basil leaves and lemongrass. Awesome. There's also one with spicy catfish and a more traditional pork chop sandwich made slightly funky (and more satisfying) with fried egg. These go up to $8. The downtown location also has soft-serve...and not like any we'd every tried before. They offer pandan and durian flavors, or -- even better -- you can get them swirled together on a cone. Pandan, to save you going to the link, is a tropical tasting leaf used in Southeast Asian cooking that makes for not a very unique, but very pleasantly sweet, slightly minty, flavor. Durian, the king of stinky and bizarre tasting fruits (if you don't already know...I didn't until we got to Thailand), defies explanation. A New York mag piece on the soft-serve brilliantly described it as "sweetened dumpster water." Bizarre Foods host Andrew Zimmern can't even get it down. My wife, on the other hand, revels in being able to eat it and actually enjoying it. I had a taste on our trip and, while it didn't make me ill, it wasn't something that would make me rush back for seconds (I still recall Julie, the friend we stayed with -- and featured in last year's post on BLT Market -- ordering us to bring the durian out onto her deck before cutting it and then providing several plastic bags for the remains, which I promptly raced down to the lobby. The waiting doorman who grabbed the bag from my hand, upon learning of the contents, sprinted off for a dumpster around the corner). The flavor of the soft-serve isn't strong enough to warrant such a strong reaction, but it does get just enough of the rotten-ness down to give you a sense of what durian's about without throwing the cone away in disgust. Anyway, enough about durian. The weekend before last, we visited Viet-Nam Banh Mi So 1, a tiny counter off Mott Street. These were pretty good, but again, not enough meat (although, as Alisa points out, we failed to opt for the extra meat for a $1 more and cannot truly judge until we return for the beefed-up version). The following day we hit Paris Sandwich, probably the largest Banh Mi outpost, given that it actually includes about half a dozen four-tops so you have a place to sit and eat (unlike others in Chinatown, where you're best option is a friendly stoop somewhere or a nearby park bench). A massive floor-to-ceiling oven includes hundreds of demi baguettes rotating as they're baked on premises. I got a classic and Alisa got the sardine, both of which were filled with all the best stuff and worthy of a return visit. Yesterday, we became truly obsessive and headed below Houston Street once again to visit Banh Mi Saigon Bakery, which wins distinction for best setting ever, since the sandwich counter is literally located in the rear of a jewelry store. While a crowd waits for sandwiches, others examine precious stones beneath a glass counter at front. Theirs are among the best sandwiches I've had, made particularly memorable by what they do to their ground pork -- somehow it's fried to the consistency of bacon, but sweet and tangy and perfect in every way. Alisa was equally impressed with her sardine version. With nowhere to sit, we ate in the car, crumbs falling all over our laps.

Noodle Shops, Revisited

So after hitting many noodle houses in Manhattan over the past 22 months or so, I think we're ready to declare the winner. Hands down, the crown has to go to Food Sing 88 Corp. in Chinatown. It's an example of why so many other hipper noodle joints, while good, are hardly a deal. Momofuku, which is good in its own right, gets up to $15 for a bowl of ramen. Same with Ippudo. True, they may use Berkshire pork belly, while Sing 88 doesn't even remove the bones from your meat (the duck and the short rib arrived nestled in noodles and broth still clinging to large bones as well as teeny bits of bone that you have to awkwardly pull out of your mouth from time to time), but even with better quality meat, they're still no match for the roughly $5 a bowl at Sing 88 (not to mention for an extra $1 you get extra noodles in your bowl). And, when you leave, you're completely satisfied. True also, Ippudo and Momofuku are Japanese and Sing 88 is Chinese, but if you're looking solely at the noodles, Sing 88's can't be beat. You can watch the guy through the dirty window with the security grate in front of it flopping large hunks of noodle dough on a plastic board and turning them into perfectly chewy, tender long noodles that stew in a rich beef/pork broth. All you really have to pick is your meat or seafood -- Alisa likes the fish balls -- and a bowl is under your nose, steaming your face, in under five minutes. When we went earlier today (a Sunday), it was packed. And certainly with good reason. Another reason to visit Chinatown regularly: dumplings. Today we picked up two bags of frozen dumplings at Tasty Dumpling: 50 veggie for $12 and 50 pork and chive for $8. If you want to eat them there, you can get 5 for $1. The first time I went two summers ago while filling in for the City Hall reporter, I got 10 for $2 and I could barely finish the plate. There's a raging debate about who has the best dumplings -- I tried the ones at Fried Dumpling around the corner last month, and they were quite delicious as well. Mindy Kaling of "The Office" claims to be partial to Prosperity Dumpling, which I have yet to try, but might better avoid since they have no vegetarian option for Alisa. If you don't want to head all the way into Chinatown, Vanessa's Dumplings on 14th is also a viable alternative, with a variety of different kinds -- but there, off Union Square, you get just 30 for $10. It took us long enough to make this important discovery: For the past year, we've always bought Trader Joe's dumplings. Those might be a fine staple if we leave the city someday, but for now, there's no reason to ever leave Chinatown without a bag of frozen dumplings and a belly full of hand-pulled noodles.

Soy

Continuing our efforts to reconnect with Japan ever since we left, Alisa and I headed down to the Lower East Side on this snowy afternoon to Soy, home of Japanese "home cooking." The humble, slightly funky joint was empty when we arrived, except for the warm proprietor and a gray and white unnamed cat lounging on a wooden chair at one of half a dozen empty tables. We shared a rich, salty miso soup with daikon and napa cabbage, then an appetizer of edamame cheese rolls -- deep fried little cigar-shaped crispy and filled with the advertised ingredients. It's not often you bite into anything at a Japanese restaurant and wind up with a string of gooey cheese extending between your mouth and the food you just bit into, but here we were and they were good. For entrees, I got a beef and potato stew. Although advertised as a classic "Japanese Mama's" dish, it tasted strikingly similar to my own Canadian/Scottish-Irish mama's stew with small chunks of beef nestled among fat boiled potatoes and carrots in a hearty brown gravy. Again, not very Japanese, but wonderfully comforting as snow fell outside the window and the cat -- still looking for a home since it was found 10 days ago on Suffolk Street -- occasionally rubbing against my leg. Alisa opted for spicy tuna and avocado over rice. Although spicy tuna usually refers to crap bits of yellowfin mixed with mayo and red pepper masking its lack of quality, these spiced pieces were in decent-sized chunks and not at all stringy (the trademark of bad tuna) with nice slices of avocado. For dessert, I had a green tea cheesecake (I asked if it was soy, but in fact it was mostly cream cheese). Tasty, with a crumbly chocolate crust and faint matcha sweetness. In all, a good value and a comforting meal that was traditional and not at the same time. Worth a return visit.

How to Mainline Cholesterol

Since purchasing Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential, we've made the trip to his original Les Halles outpost on Park and it was so good the first time, we went back last weekend. It's beauty is in the consistency: Alisa got mussels bathed in herbs and white wine twice and both times they were right on the mark. I got a steak (first hangar with a shallot sauce then flatiron with a made-to-order bernaise...key, because it can be vile when pre-made) both times that cut like butter. And the fries, as he promises in the book, were sublime. It is a rather loud joint though and even the second time when we sat in an alcove, where the din is lessened, we were across from a table of two drunk tourist couples who's banter drove us insane. That brings up a serious pet peeve I promise not to dwell upon at length: People with loud or irritating voices at adjacent tables who can literally ruin a meal. I learned during that second trip to Les Halles to soldier through it, enjoying my food and talking loudly to Alisa, in hopes of: a) being heard and b) sending a message to the next table that they were way too loud. I failed at the latter. Anyway. Enough said. Speaking of ways to mainline cholesterol, we made our second visit to Pearl Oyster Bar on Cornelia Street in the Village. Even at $27 apiece (the market price that day), their lobster rolls were fantastic -- a whole lobster, it seemed like, big chunks of claw and tail slathered in mayo on a bun barely able to contain all the lovely meat -- and accompanied by a mound of shoestring fries (I think there's something to thinner fries tasting better, probably related to more surface area to be fried in oil). As if that weren't enough to put us on the busroute to bypass, we split a caramel praline parfait (they put some caramel at the bottom as well so you don't eat the best part first, then find yourself left with lonely vanilla) and some steamers, which, even though I've had clams many a time, I had never officially ordered them as "steamers." A small bucket of long necks (I learned that's to indicate an actual neck of sorts emerging from them -- reminiscent, in miniature and far less intimidating form, the humongous neck that makes up the bulk of a geoduck clam, something I may never be brave enough to try) arrived with some warm salt and parsley water (Passover flashbacks) and drawn butter. Extras aside, the lobster rolls here are a dead-ringer for those at nearby Mary's Fish Camp, where we went once. Is there any difference? Someday soon, perhaps, I'll have an answer.

Random musings on Mexican and Cuban food

Forgive the long stretch since our last post, but between a trip to the other side of the globe and a job change, it's been busy lately and we've just now had time to settle again. There has been chowing going on, however -- and here are some regrettably brief thoughts on places we've been since the blog posts stopped: Dos Caminos on 3rd Avenue -- maybe it's just because I'm from SoCal and know good Mexican food, but it's been a rarity to find it anywhere outside. This member of the B.R. Guest empire (which includes Ocean Grill, Atlantic Grill, Isablella's, etc.) was not the exception. Even though Madonna was reported to chow here with A-Rod, it goes to show celebrity hot spots can also fall flat. Even though the fish we both ordered was cooked fine and tasted fresh, it was also bland (why anyone would think avocado "leaves" make an exciting crust for tuna is beyond me) and the guacamole scam perpetrated frequently in the city was on full display here, with a paltry amount offered up with way too much lime (a preservative for those who choose to make mass quantities in advance, as opposed to the charm and freshness of tableside preparation). Not a bad meal, but not memorable and overpriced at that. We did have a better Mexican meal several months back at Hell's Kitchen in, you guessed it, Hell's Kitchen, which offers an interesting menu balanced out by fair prices. The best Latin food in recent memory, perhaps ever in this town, can be found at Cafe Habana on Elizabeth and Prince Street. True, we've only brunched here twice, but the seasoned roasted corn on the cob covered in cojita cheese and lime juice alone is pilgrimage-worthy. I also opted for a "Michelada" -- something I'd
never seen or heard of before -- which involves a tall parfait glass half-full of ice, fresh lemon juice and Tabasco with salt around the rim. Into it you pour a bottle of Corona and squeeze lime. It's delish. For entrees, Alisa got the classic Huevos Rancheros and I got Chilaquiles, a dish done so differently so many places you never quite know what you're gonna get. It's one I ate growing up in San Diego that always consists of fried corn tortillas, red or green sauce, cheese and chicken or veggies in a casserole of sorts. Since arriving here, I've had it as a sad little pile of corn chips with red sauce and some grated cheese or a whole elaborate cheesy blissful casserole at Quantum Leap, a duo of vegetarian joints in the east and west village that does it expertly (although occasionally skimps on the portions). At Habana, it more resembled the pile of chips, put an ample pile that had started to submit to their soft tortilla form under the weight of a zesty green sauce and melty white queso with tender pieces of chicken hidden all across the plate. The accompanying black beans, with herbs still wading inside, are among the best I've ever had anywhere. We can't wait to go back.

Soba-tastic

Before we came to NYC, I never knew Japanese noodles extended beyond ramen and udon (and even udon I learned about just a few years before). The thick, ropey noodles at New Orleans joints like Kyoto and Sake were fantastic and a value, arriving with a healthy portion of tempura for under $15, generally. Then, spying something in the Times one day (is it clear how much I look forward to the back page of the Wednesday Food section?) I saw a $25 and under review of Soba Totto in East Midtown. We went there for the first time and tried the buckwheat noodles, which are thin like spaghetti and also have a nice nuttiness (not to mention being healthier than regular semolina noodles). They often come in a miso-soy type of broth, with green onion and any number of underwater delicacies resting on top, like uni, which adds a nice saltiness. At lunchtime, a combo meal often includes japanese pickles, a seaweed salad, fish or tempura and any number of other little side dishes. Best of all, soba is ubiquitous to the seasons and just as good cold as hot. Soba Totto also happens to be on an amazing block (East 43rd between 2nd and 3rd aves) populated by a number of amazingly authentic (I assume authentic...we haven't been to Japan yet) Japanese restaurants: Sakagura (where they have an amazing selection of sake, a fantastic array of non-sushi or noodle Japanese dishes, including something with squid liver that was ten times better than you'd think, not to mention a real Japanese toilet in the ladies' room, Alisa says) and Sushi Yasuda (last year ranked top sushi spot in the city by Zagat). Earlier today we learned it's possible to get great soba outside of that tiny strip, at Soba-Ya in the East Village, where not only is their soba equally good, but you can watch a dude make it right where it looks like they'd be running your credit card. Instead, he uses a variety of handle-less rollers to flatten out the dough and then chops off thin noodle strands. There's also a Japanese toilet (but, again, only for the ladies, although not quite as elaborate as Sakagura's, Alisa again says). For the record, there's also a recently-opened sake shop (the only one east of the Rockies, its owner says) a block east, Sakaya, that's definitely worth checking out (especially for the tiny cans that are like tasty little chocolaty flavor bombs).