Best financier ever, Book of Mormon, home

I refused to get out of bed this morning until T brought home the financiers from...wait, let me get the butter-stained bag... Maison Eric Kayser. Financiers, a cakey concoction usually shaped like a rectangle, can, like any baked good, be dry and totally underwhelming. These financiers were precisely the opposite. I wanted to cry and immediately go buy 82 more. I bow to you, Eric Kayser, and though I have recently sworn off the purchase of new cookbooks, I might make an exception for yours so that I may make the pistachio financiers all the time.

T brought home raspberry and pistachio, and both were wonderful. Financiers are traditionally made from almond flour (or crushed or ground almonds) and brown butter. Kayser's are not rectangular but instead shaped like muffins. Only better. The pistachio was supremely delicious; truly, I was without words. I couldn't possibly eat both so saved the remainder. I've just polished off the rest of the pistachio and will soon dive into la framboise.

Then we packed, checked out, dropped our ludicrous amount of luggage at T's NY office so as to avoid bringing it to Broadway, and then walked north. By a complete stroke of luck, we passed the Hell's Kitchen Flea Market. Wondering if food stalls might be waiting, we headed in. No food but some great stuff. I bought a smooth as butter leather, fleur-de-lis bedecked (tasteful, not bedazzled) passport holder ($3!) made in Florence and in great shape AND the coolest old compact. I can't wait to clean it up and upgrade from the freebie in my cosmetic bag. The original powder compartment and door still function perfectly, the mirror is excellent, and the cover is engraved with a few fleurs. It feels very Mad Men goes to the Continent. Too cool, too cool.

It seemed prudent to get to the theater on time so we made a quick pit stop at Turco for that ˄ falafel sandwich and to the Eugene O'Neill as the doors opened.

Here are my bottom lines re: Book of Mormon: parts of were priceless; overall it wasn't as crass as I expected; it was much less offensive that I had prepared (hoped?) for; the first half was slightly underwhelming; the physicality required for many of the roles was overwhelming; 85% of the cast was terrific; it wasn't the best show I've ever seen; we were in the second row, center orchestra, and the girls in front of us won their seats for $32 in the Book of Mormon lottery. We paid a lot more than $32. Hmm.

This is where expectations can damn what their referencing. If I'd never heard how outrageously offensive the show was, I think I'd have been more delightfully offended. If I hadn't heard I would literally pee in my pants laughing, I might have. But this is why I never read movie reviews until after the fact now; if you go in with others' expectations, it's hard to have a pure experience. You know?

All in all, a superb weekend. We just dined on fresh bread, tomatoes and cheese from our stash and should be home in a few. I'm starting to miss my little ones. Tuesday!

24 in the Big Apple

I hardly know where to start, not least because my husband has morphed from relative sloth into avid gym-goer (yay, husband!) and was working out at 8:30 this morning whilst I slumbered away after post-drinks drinks at Otto last night. But I'll start from where I left you yesterday... We hopped the Q train to Brooklyn to meet my friend, Suzanne, at the Ft. Greene farmers market. Because, as it's probably abundantly obvious to you, I am incapable of not buying fresh food when I see it, I bought more tomatoes. I did manage to keep my wallet in check around the gargantuan boxes of fresh squash blossoms -just $5! in DC you can have about 4 for the same price- but I trembled while backing away from them. Suzanne bought so many tomatoes and plums that on the way to the Brooklyn Flea, we detoured to her house to drop them off. There we met her cute pugs, Izzy and Nando (I love that their namesakes are Ferdinand and Isabella) and sat a spell before heading back out.

As we approached the Flea, a huge asphalt lot covered with gourmet food trucks and stalls selling all manner of junk and awesomeness, my heart's pace picked up, and I could see T start to lick his lips in anticipation. You almost can't make that man happier than sticking him in a food trucked environ. After an initial tour -how would we ever decide where to start?!- T went in for an pupusa (horrible word; all words starting with pūp should restructure) combo from the Salvadoran folks (the one made with loroco (an edible, flowering vine) was off-the-hook good), Suzanne bought a cherry cola (the real thing) from the soda guys, I started sucking down an incredible coconut-cinnamon horchata, Suz went for steak tacos, I opted for a ludicrous looking grilled cheese from Milk Truck (all grilled cheeses and milkshakes; that's just awesome) that was aged Gruyere, caramelized onions and a fried egg on rye with a "please add some fresh tomatoes". To be fair, it was not THE.BEST. grilled cheese ever, but it was good!

Meanwhile, T went back for a second, courtesy of Porchetta; literally, the stand was named Porchetta and that's all you could get: porchetta on a roll. Not my speed, but he was enchanted. We then trolled the Flea, during which time we bought and devoured perhaps the best chocolate-glazed doughnut I've ever had (chocolate with a hint of caramel and how Dough makes a completely-devoid-of-grease doughnut is unknown but should win them a Nobel), and I found an awesome Fiestaware platter (original vintage) that I snapped up. We also bought the coolest Christmas gift for my parents, sister, and bro-in-law but I will not describe it in any way as they read Em-i-lis. Suffice it to say that they will be pleased.

To the R train to return to the city. T and I parted ways for a short while as he had the brilliant idea to buy a new suitcase because mine is 13 years old and losing bits and pieces each time I travel AND this was the only conceivable way we'd get all these purchases (85% food) home with us. I went to Fish's Eddy and ABC Carpet & Home (such a weird but awesome store) and on the way back to our hotel was sidelined by awesome samples at a juice bar. I was inspired to go in and purchase one which was a wildly fortuitous decision because inside I found JUMBO DAIFUKU which are one of my favorite treats, and since the little Japanese grocery in Bethesda closed, I have been unable to get these super-caloric bean curd-rice cake treats in DC. Have I mentioned that I love NY? The most unassuming to the most grandiose bodega here will have these mochi cakes. See them here with my other gems: stracchino, baked ricotta...

A nap, showers, and to the Village we headed, cancelling our Da Silvano reservation en route as I simply had to return to Bar Pitti (next door to Da S) instead. I love, love, love Bar Pitti. Cash only, a great deal of attitude, but such great food and people-watching. We got there early so we could sit outside. Platters of fettunta (grilled bread slicked with olive oil) and spinaci saltati (salted spinach but so much more)...how the Italians can handle spinach! And then fresh pappardelle with cinghiale (boar) for T and taglierini con tartufo estivo (summer truffles) for me. Heaven.

T had a tiramisu while I kept a peripheral gimlet eye trained on the couple at my 9:00. That guy had to be a don. I mean, it was unreal. Bald on top, remaining hair greased back confidently with "do not effing move" gel, a starched white, tuxedo pleated shirt untucked over his portly barrel chest and domed stomach, the requisite gold ring on his sausagey finger. He had a definite "I'm friendly BUT do not eff with me" air and was obviously a regular because the waiters were all over him like flies on high-maintenance honey. He was clearly in the no-carb camp because he kept ordering that the bread be replaced with large cubes of Parm; his thick fingers would dip the cheese in Bar Pitti's insanely good olive oil and then deliver the dripping chunks to his mouth. All the while his overly thin, overly Botoxed gal pal (seriously, only the top of her nose moved) quietly shared her half of the Diet Coke he'd meted out into their glasses, and smiled and shifted rather nervously in her chair. It was all rather delightful. And then down the sidewalk sauntered a dude in suit pants and vest but no shirt. His gut spilled over his belt, out under his vest; it was not a good look.

We headed up Greenwich towards Otto for some post-dinner drinks and soon passed a guy engaged in serious martial arts with his reflection in a store-front window.

I love New York.

With what energy, I know not, but we then rented the newest Star Trek and throughout I lusted over Chris Pine, what I know Zachary Quinto looks like when he's not Spock and Benedict Cumberbatch who always manages to be hot even though if you take him feature by feature he's really not.

That's only getting us to midnight so you're getting a bit gypped in the "24 in the big apple" thing but I'll resume later. Tom just brought me some insane(!) financiers for breakfast lunch so I'm gonna eat, pack and head to The Book of Mormon.

USq Greenmarket

First things first this morning, and it was out for coffee, Everyman Espresso on 13th (yum and devoid of hipster coffee snobbery), and breakfast at the Greenmarket. I bought a piece of Hungarian cherry cake, some ground cherry tomatoes (a husked variety), and some parcel of neatly wrapped leaves whose name I've completely forgotten.

Tom bought a second bag of the best pretzels ever while I: oohed and aahed like a happy baby over the flowers; lusted over the endless varieties of beans, tomatoes, eggplant and so forth; and snuck a purchase of two pounds of Italian prune plums and some Shiros (how in god's name I'm going to lug all this home, via Broadway tomorrow, is tbd). Hey, I was inspired.

We are soon heading off to Brooklyn, stopping in Fort Greene to join up with a foodie friend pen pal of mine that I've never met in person: Suzanne of the chicken and dumplings, pasta piselli (I've made and gone nuts about both) and spiced plum cobbler that is high on my list of to-trys. She will guide is through the Brooklyn Flea for lunch and fun, and I absolutely cannot wait!