Greenstreet, Serendipity, and Airplanes

I do not know if it was the steamy sunshine of the morning, the red velvet antique couches, the sparkling mimosas, or the idea of it being a holiday and everyone's carefree attitude that attributed to all the serendipity in the air. Maybe its one of these or its all of these that made breakfast, brilliant at Greenstreet Cafe this morning. Incredible, starving, insatiable, magical adorned the place and reflected how I felt upon entering.

A twenty minute wait meant going to the whimsical bar decorated with tiny white clay men doing some type of ballet or gymnastic excerise (pretty interesting if you ask me) to order mimosas. They were simple and perfect consisting of the "just rite" juice to champagne ratio. As I looked around, while the drinks were being made, I couldn't help but think that this is an ideal place for those who have lost touch with their sense of wonder. Was I in a scene from Alice in Wonderland? except this scene had omlettes and pancakes in it?.....

Now, fifteen minutes to kill meant sitting on the antique red velvet couches with mimosas in hand, an experience all its own, but this one would be different because instead of people watching, it seemed as if we were yorkie watching. Yes, you read correctly...yorkie watching. Almost everyone had a miniature yorkie by their side. Someone even had three. When the fifteen minutes were up, we were escorted to our petite, wrought iron table, outdoors, reminiscent of those somewhere crossed between central park and Paris. There, we sat surrounded by bustling servers, vacant conversations, and great food.

Hmmmmm, what to order? Honestly, I couldn't even pay attention to the menu because all my other senses were so occupied. The final verdict - a goat cheese and tomato omlette accompanied with a bagel and the best cream cheese I've ever had. The food took quite a bit but that didn't matter, it could have taken all day if it were up to me, that moment spelled out "happy to be here" in every form, and in every language. There are many moments in life that go unnoticed, ignored, or taken for granted but this one was just one of those that couldn't go in that direction. Breakfast was taken to completely new level, unexpectedly. After devouring the delicious omlette and bagel, we were off to whatever the rest of the day would bring us.

All of a sudden, B.O.B's new song "Airplanes" comes on the radio during the ride home..." Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now, a wish right now, a wish right now. " As the song went on and on, I asked myself, " Could I use a wish right now?" the answer that rushed to my head as I looked to my right, "no."

I do not know if it was the steamy sunshine of the morning, the red velvet antique couches, the sparkling mimosas, or the idea of it being a holiday and everyone's carefree attitude that attributed to all the serendipity in the air. Maybe it was one of these or maybe it was all of these that made breakfast, Brilliant.

Wafel, not Waffle!

These days, I find myself craving a Belgium Wafel. The real kind if you know what I mean, fairly odd-shaped, crispy top, and perfectly decadent. The American waffle can be sort of limp, dense, and too sweet; the Beligium wafel prances around between airy, crisp, and it finds the precise balance between sweet and salty, making the maple syrup (its partner in crime, it's Bonnie) stand out impeccably.

There's something nostalgically pleasing about a warm, buttery Belgium wafel drizzled with pure maple syrup, and homemade whipped cream, and maybe, just maybe some fresh ripened strawberries.

For the sake of novelty, Belgium wafels translate into sitting in a picturesque outdoor cafe in Brussels, in wrought-iron chairs, a glass of good Champagne, the somewhat cool/somwhat caressingly, warm Belgium breeze, and those fabulous wafels. But for those not on that side of the globe and Brussels might seem like a far shot, tomorrow is Sunday.... some celebrate daylight on Sundays with a big breakfast --- Belgium Wafels sound like a great idea to me! Ok, if I could only find my waffle iron.....I might just be Crate and Barrels first customer tomorrow morning. LOL.

What we talk about ...when we talk about food

There's one question besides the predictable, "what do you eat?" that I get in every single social circle or interview - that is, "What do you talk about, when you talk about food?" Pondering this question, I had the chance to sit with four well-suited people at a Bertolli Dinner about a month ago; all of which were about 15 years my senior; all of which you could say were worldly jaded veterans of many high end restaurant meals and were no strangers to comped vintage bottles.

Without mentioning any names, I sat with the author of the bestselling book of the account of being Mario Batali's "kitchen bitch" (all you foodies out there know what book I'm talking about), one of the editors of Maxim Magazine, one of the judges from Top Chef, and one of the CEO's of Bertolli Olive Oil. As we sat in this dimlit restaurant ordering, criticizing, and enjoying almost everything on the menu, it seemed for a brief moment that the world was divided in two - those who were "food crazy" and those who were not. Afterall, I get excited about the orgasmic combination of balsamic braised onions and goat cheese. Some don't understand the enthusiasm but for me, enthusiasm for what you truly enjoy is great.

While the conversation ping-ponged between food politics, environmentalism, domestic cookery, and downrite cookbook nerdery, all I could think about was "cravability" . What is the fundamental reason why we enjoy eating, why we plan out celebratory meals, and why we can't stop thinking about that special bite? The answer is cravability. We enjoy the food we crave, the most. Despite the culinary scene's new developments in molecular gastronomy, I'm a firm believer in that we eat what we crave, what we like, what we enjoy. It's not in our nature to enjoy a steak in the form of nitrogen, bacon in the form of gelatin, or strawberries in the form of powder. While I admire these culinary scientists, Grant Achatz alike.. I bat for the team of Julia Child, Cindy Pawlcyn, and Emeril Lagasse - The craftsmen that make you lick your fingers, role your eyes back, and never let you forget how great it is to taste something like that.

I distinctly remember, Rick Moonen's sustainable seafood movement came up at the table, and I had to interrupt. Were we really talking about sustainable seafood for 20 minutes straight? Bored out of my mind, I blurted out, "So, what's the best salmon you've ever had? Tell me the details.." I got the guts to break the ficticious intellectual ice, and ask what was really on everyone's mind. We have five foodies together, now tell me, "The best you've ever had."

It might seem like an easy task to conjure up what five foodies would talk about in a roundtable discussion about food, but its not. One thing is for certain, if you're ever caught in a roundtable discussion about food with me, I won't participate in food politics, but I will ask you "what's the best you've ever had..." and I will share with you as well, what's the best I've ever had.

So.....what do I talk about when I talk about food?

The kind of food that makes you lick your fingers, role your eyes back, and make you never forget you tasted something like that.

Best/Worst First or First Best/Worst

From the beginning there has always been three questions of ultimate intrigue. The best? The worst? Your first? This could be in regards to a movie, a lover, a meal...or any memory at that. And anyone who wants to get to know you, will somehow ask you these three questions at any given point.

However, what happens when your best/worst/first transpire at the same time? Sparks...fireworks...and a whim of breathlessness as when these three collide, its a result of stolen moments, acts of defiance, and perhaps a recipe for the most unperfect perfection. Unperfect perfection??? you might ask. Try downing four refreshing watermelon - strawberry vodka drinks that invigorate your tastebuds as they serve as thirst quenchers in the 100 degree sun, poolside. So crisp and delicious and yet, weapons of mass destruction. The drink was called "Summer Affair. " That it was...illicit, forbidden, intoxicating, and mouthwatering. All joking aside, the scene could not be any better-neither could the company. The sun was bright and beautiful bouncing off the pool chairs and clear blue water, the noise of the tourists having fun, and the heat making you crave the "summer affair" in every possible way. Was it the music or was it the heat? But there was something so unexplainably good about that icy-cold fresh burst of watermelon dabbed with a touch of strawberry. The freshness lingered in your mouth. As time progressively passed, the sun changed points, I found myself saying "ok" to another one. It was simply too easy to say yes to something that good. It was as if the words were escaping me. It seemed natural and effortless to sip it inbetween bits of good conversation. The scene was flawless, the sun was striking, and the "Summer Affair" turned out to be my best/worst first - never having drank more than one drink poolside in my entire life. Nonetheless, that Best/worst first was worth it all because it reminded me for a second, that sometimes the best comes unexpected, and it might leave a consequence or two (splitting headache or upset stomach lol), but that just might be the marks of remembrance of something great. Perfect doesn't exist, but unperfect perfection...that was my "Summer Affair."