A Brussels waffle with spekuloos spread from Waffles & Dinges.
New York has a proliferation of tasty and affordable food trucks that go above and beyond your average street meat. I stumbled upon the Waffles & Dinges truck the other night, which features (among other) the Brussels Waffle: “Light and Crispy, this is the ‘Mother of all Waffles’ and first came to New York for the 1964 World’s Fair. Now it’s back, better than ever.”
I have a soft spot for food introduced at the 1964 World’s Fair, so I ordered a waffle, topped with spekuloos spread. Although the spread was recommended to me (and beat Bobby Flay), it was a little too sweet for my liking. But the waffle was perfect: crisp on the outside, moist and almost creamy in the middle. Next time, I’m just going to get a dusting of confectioner’s sugar, or a few sliced strawberries, so I can really enjoy the taste and texture of the waffle.
A Gentleman strolls through Boston on the 19th Century Pub Crawl.
Over the weekend, the 19th Century Pub Crawl went on the road for one wild night in Boston, home to some of America’s oldest bars and most notorious dens of vice.
The crawl met at Eastern Standard, a new bar that focuses on the revival of classic cocktails. The capable bartenders put together a custom drink list featuring authentic 19th century imbibements. I had myself the “19th Century,” a drink previously known as the Old-Fashioned, and originally known at the Cock-tail. A mix of rye, bitters, and a twist of lemon, this delightful and refreshing drink was the first cocktail, and is the origin point from whence all other cocktails were birthed. I also had the Japanese Cocktail, invented by Jerry Thomas–surprisingly delicious, and perhaps my favorite drink of the evening.
The custom 19th Century cocktail list at Eastern Standard.
If you are ever in Boston, I highly recommend dinner and a drink at Eastern Standard; their hospitality was touching, their bar-craft unparalleled.
The “19th Century” at Eastern Standard.
The crawl participants met and mingled; and, lubricated with a few fine cocktails, became fast friends. By the time we left Eastern Standard, we had 40 crawlers in tow.
An admittedly blurry photo of the crawl making its way to the Red Hat.
We traveled via subway to the Red Hat, a bar founded in 1906 in Boston’s old Theater district (later a neighborhood known for its burlesque shows). We settled in upstairs, next to the antique bar, and surrounded by a charming mural of old Boston. The ambiance was lovely.
I was won over by a small advertisement on my table and ordered a Kraken and Coke. Kraken is a new brand of “Black Spiced Rum,” which comes in an amazing jug-like bottle adorned with an angry sea monster. Ever since spotting it at Astor Wine & Spirits last month, I’ve been meaning to try it out. I was very pleasantly surprised–Kraken is sweet and spicy, and an incredibly pleasant companion to Coke. I recommend it.
Kraken & Coke. Release the Kraken!
Next, we trotted down the street to Union Bar at the Union Oyster House. The UOH is the oldest continually operating restaurant in the U.S., having been founded in 1826. It was the first bar to pass out wooden toothpicks in the 1860s. Despite my track record at previous pub crawls, I did not slurp up any oysters. Instead, I was bought a whiskey on the rocks by a woman in a dashing hat. Perfect.
We ended up skipping the Bell in Hand Tavern after sizing up the line in front of the door that extended around the block, and discovering there was a $10 cover. Boo. The next time I’m in Boston, I’m going to stop in for a burger and a beer; it is one of the oldest bars in America, after all.
Left: The discreet, nondescript hallway that leads to Drink.
Instead, we headed across the river to Drink, another new establishment known for exploring the history of cocktails. After six hours of drinking, I still had a party of twelve ready for more. When we got to Drink’s front stair, we were met by the doorman who (to quote a fellow pub crawler) had “the most amazing Chester A. Arthur mutton chops.” He sized us up, nodded and said: “I heard you guys might be headed our way. Let me see what I can do.” He disappeared inside, and I addressed my loyal troupe of 19th century gentleman and ladies: “He says there’s at least a 45 minutes wait; last call is in 90 minutes. I’m read to wait them out; who’s with me?” Everyone agreed we were in it to win it.
Ten minutes later, the door opened. Chester A. smiled: “Welcome to Drink,” and he swept us inside.
Drink is a magical place; if you can get in, go. There is no menu, which at first strikes you as annoying. But in fact, it allows you the opportunity to chat with your adorable server/bartender who will say things like “I’ve got the perfect drink for you!” He started me off with another Cock-Tail, then an updated old-fashioned. Some of my companions asked for egg drinks, which are unrivaled at Drink. I think that’s what opened the gates for what happened next.
We were suddenly presented with a “special cocktail,” I didn’t catch it’s name. It has specific instructions for consumption: first, you smelled it. A big long whiff. Second, you sipped off the meringue-like egg white that sat on the drink’s surface. Last, you threw the drink back like a shot, imbibing the alcohol and the egg yolk which sits at the bottom of the glass. The egg yolk bursts in your mouth. As mine ruptured, I thought to myself: did I really just eat that raw egg?
Althought we all commented how sober we were on the walk to Drink, by the time we piled in cabs around 1:30 am, we were 3-5 sheets to the wind. Total Eclipse of the Heart came on the radio, and I sang it all the way back to my brother’s apartment in Cambridge, where I met a few friends for just one more drink.
They’re pointing to the “Gentlemen’s Room.”
I’m now safely entrenched back in New York city, still basking from the warm glow of a night of fine drinks, and even finer friends. I met such lovely people. And if you missed the Boston 19th Century Pub Crawl this year, worry not. There’s already plans for a repeat performance next spring. And for those of you in New York, and those of you willing to hop a Fung Wah to get here, the New York 19th Century Pub Crawl is right around the corner on May 15th. Check out our proposed route, and I hope to see you there!
I was just featured in a lovely video by Van Tieu of the Brooklyn Ink! Watch it to see some of my experiments cooking bear meat, and the craziness of the Pancakes Aplenty Event.
Culinary Historian, Sarah Lohman, discovers bear meat in historical American cuisine, and flips pancakes from 1842 at the Old Stone House in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
After my post about applejack last week, my brother (a Bostonian and classic cocktail enthusiast) suggested I post the recipe for the Jack Rose, the iconic applejack cocktail.
This recipe comes from Sloppy Joe’s Bar Book (1932), and I mixed it up as part of my pre-prohibition themed birthday party in January. It was Hemingway’s favorite drink to sip while at Sloppy Joe’s, a prohibition era bar in Havana, Cuba.
I didn’t like it; the combination of the applejack and the lemon juice tasted like heartburn in the making. I had a fancier version of this drink over the weekend at Death & Company, a swank and beautiful bar in the East Village. They are known for their neo-gothic interior and classic-cocktail inspired drinks. Their Jack Rose contains both apple jack and calvados (a French apple brandy) paired with lemon and lime juice and house made grenadine.
My brother has his own take on the recipe; he recommends “1.5 oz apple jack; juice of 1/2 lemon (1 oz); 1 bar spoon (say 1/2 to 1 tsp) grenadine.” To make your own grenadine, use equal volumes unsweetened pomegranate juice and sugar, boiled as you would a simple syrup.
Illustration by Peter Van Hyning.
p.s. – if you’re a Bostonian and classic cocktail enthusiast, don’t forget about the Boston 19th Century Pub Crawl on April 10th!
Bloody Mary, made completely from scratch, with a lil’ dill pickle floating in the middle.
Last weekend, I really consumed some comestibles. Allow me to share:
On Friday night, I organized a “Safari Party,” or as it’s known in America, a “Progressive Dinner.” A Progressive is a meal where each course is eaten at a different house; our five courses led us on a pathway all through Astoria, Queens. When I organized the party, I had no idea there was an historic precedent. Then I came across a Betty Crocker WWII-era pamphlet entitled “Hospitality in War-Time”
We didn’t make any of the dishes that Ms. Crocker suggested. I’m not sure if “Avacado Halves with Lemon Sherbert and Lemon Mayonaise” would be as horrfying as it sounds, or a revelation in flavor. We did have dishes that celebrated Astoria’s ethnic diversity, like fried haloumi cheese; corned beef and cabbage; and tres-leches cake. We also included a cocktail with each course, like the “acropolis,” a drink made with Sprite, Rose’s Grenadine, and Ouzo; and bloody marys, with home-made bloody mary mix.
It was an amazing evening–not only was the food great, but the spectacular weather made traveling around Queens an unrivaled pleasure. We really don’t give our home burrough enough props.
Left: Sunday Brunch; savory crepe fillings
On Sunday morning, I was invited over to my friend Cecile’s apartment for brunch. While not historic, it was delicious. A vegetarian-crepe-feast, it was a good balance for our dinner plans later that evening: the Brooklyn Beefsteak. The Beefsteak is a revival of a 19th century event that a requires copious amount of beer drinking, and a constant consumption of perfectly grilled, butter-drizzled slices of beef tenderloin. Done and done.
You can view more photos from my weekend of eating here.
Port Wine Jelly
From Directions For Cookery, In Its Various Branches. By Miss Leslie, 1840
1 cup of water
1 oz isinglass
1 oz gum arabic
2 cups port wine
2 ounces rock candy, or 3 tablespoons sugar
½ nutmeg, grated
1. In a medium saucepan, heat water and isinglass, stirring constantly until isinglass has dissolved. The resulting liquid with be thick and tapioca like
2. Add wine, gum Arabic, sugar and nutmeg. Bring to a boil, and boil for ten minutes. Stir constantly, because things get stuck to the bottom, boil over, or burn.
3. Strain through a cloth, like muslin or several layers of cheesecloth. Pour into a mold (I used four ramekins). Set aside until it comes to room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.
***
When I was cooking the isinglass, it had a distinct ocean smell. Like salty sea air. I guess that’s because it comes from inside a fish. The gum arabic also had a distinct smell–like an old jewelry box. When I cooked everything together, it had the consistency of simple syrup.
After I poured the concoction in a mold and let it set, I popped it out of the ramekins and cut a slice to sample. I was already surprised– the texture was not at all how I thought it would be. I was expecting something like a jello; in reality it was more like fruit leather or Turkish delight. Very dense.
It didn’t taste very good—it made me make an unhappy face. The flavor of the chemical ingredients was stronger than that of the port wine. It might have been enjoyable if consumed in a time when their weren’t a lot of sweets available, like in the early 19th century, but in the 21st century it’s really pretty blah.
BUT–I was thrilled that it came together chemically. I mixed together strange bags of suspicious looking substances, and the final product set just how it should. Who figured this stuff out in the first place? Like “Let’s make a fancy dessert out of these crispy strings I found in a sturgeon!”
It makes me brave to try my next isinglass experiment, a “Very Fine Charlotte Russe.”
On Thursday, after doing some research at the New York Public Library, I headed over to the Chipotle on 42nd st for dinner. While standing in line, I noticed a sign tacked up near the tortilla press that said “We are trying a ‘new’ soft corn tortilla based on a 3,500-year-old recipe. Give them a spin with your favorite combination and let us know what you think.” 3,500 year old tortillas? Sold!
The verdict? The tortillas were moist and delicate, with a rich corn flavor. But they tended to tear from the weight of the goodies inside. Chipotle’s soft tacos are usually made with flour tortillas, which are generally more durable.
I was curious just how much tortilla recipes have changed over the past 3,500 years; Edible Queens obliged my curiosity by publishing an article in their spring issue about Tortilleria Nixtamal, a taco joint that’s revolutionizing food by making their tortillas the old fashioned way (read the article here). Pick up a copy of the magazine to learn more about different types of tortillas, how much they have changed over the years, and why tortillas in mexico taste the best. And keep an eye out for new corn tortillas in your local Chipotle.
Hey, Bostonites! (Bostonians?) Come join us for a night of nineteenth-century debauchery at Boston’s oldest bars and most notorious dens of vice!
We will meet promptly at 5:30 PM at Eastern Standard (528 Commonwealth Avenue) for classic cocktails and complimentary appetizers. We will then proceed to Red Hat Café; Union Oyster House; Bell in Hand Tavern; and, should we still possess the fortitude and sobriety, Drink.
The crawl is FREE to join. Appropriate nineteenth century attire is encouraged, but by no means required.
A Brussels waffle with spekuloos spread from Waffles & Dinges.
and lime juice and house made grenadine.
1. In a medium saucepan, heat water and isinglass, stirring constantly until isinglass has dissolved. The resulting liquid with be thick and tapioca like
