Food Writer Writes Good
We're two weeks in to Sam Sifton's stint as dining critic and his second effort is pretty great: "The very first item on the menu at Marea is ricci, a piece of warm toast slathered with sea urchin roe, blanketed in a thin sheet of lardo, and dotted with sea salt. It offers exactly the sensation as kissing an extremely attractive person for the first time – a bolt of surprise and pleasure combined. The salt and fat give way to primal sweetness and combine in deeply agreeable ways. The feeling lingers on the tongue and vibrates through the body. Not bad at $14 a throw – and there are two on each plate." As someone who once compared an uninspired General Tso's chicken to a handjob from an ugly broad ("You'll take it, but you're not going to be bragging to your friends about it later"), I rather enjoyed that. The rest is just as good: sharp, funny, conversational. I've been a fan of Sifton's reviews since his New York Press days—God, remember that?—so I'm not exactly surprised, but I am indeed appreciative.
Kissing an ugly dude tastes like fish eggs too. (I'VE HEARD.)
I wonder what giving a handjob to an unappreciative, overweight, hairy dude feels like?
Eating bad pastrami. Or so I've read.
Thank you for searing this image into my brain for the remainder of the workday, until happy hour.
Say a little prayer for the vegetarians living in states that outlaw happy hour.
So, cooking myself General Tso's would be the gastronomic equivalent of The Stranger?
The novel or the newspaper?
the only slightly dirtier, slang definition http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=the%20stranger
Oh Balk–I too am a fan of this mans writing. You and I should meet at a small table for two at one of those finely reviewed bistros and stare endlessly into each others eyes whilst the waiter showers us with ala carte.
For the record, not all attractive people are good kissers.
Your post is like a kick in the pants from an ex manager: surprising, but not unwarranted.
The salt and fat give way to primal sweetness and combine in deeply agreeable ways.
This dude has totally done you before, Balk.
Ohhh how I love you both.
The time I ate ricci in Italy ranks as one of the most profoundly disturbing experiences of my life. We were swimming off Maratea and my (then) girlfriend (who is from Naples) was showing me what to do. Which was, dive down and look for the brown sea urchins among the many black ones. And once we'd gathered a few in a plastic bag we carried them over to the rocks, where she took one and just cut it in half with a steak knife, like a hard boiled egg. Sure enough inside there was a tiny smear of roe. I tasted some, just a tiny amount but it was incredibly powerful, like the aggregate smell of a thousand Sea Worlds condensed into a few grains of goo. A gustatory microdot.
But that wasn't the disturbing part. The disturbing part was that, I soon noticed, the ricci were alive and moving in my hands, trying to roll to safety on their spines. They weren't inert seashell-type things but dynamic, active little creatures and we were eating them alive! So basta! I said, this is just too cruel, and reluctantly she assented and we let the remainder free to roam and spawn in the big blue sea.
Remains to be seen if Sam Sifton will brag about THIS handjob…
My money's on no.
Loved his "salt and fat" amuse-bouche…but "knights in white broadcloth"? Not as yummy.