A beautiful New York day.

It began with a large slice of almond flavored brioche. The now defunct name of Sullivan Street Bakery has been replaced with a much more cozy but not as homey title of Grandaisy Bakery. The name might have changed but the brioche hasn't one bit. Buttery and moist with a toasted intensity of crunchy almonds, just the way it should be. Sugar and fat to fuel towards the Saturday market at Union Square.



Apples, mushrooms, cheese, meat, bread, pastries, flowers and the hard to find but highly praised Ramp. Grown only in certain parts of America, this leek/shallot/green onion/garlic flavored aromatic is sweet enough to eat raw, but a little butter and some salt does wonders...

Walking with high energy towards the small Salumeria Biellese, where one can get some of the best cured meats this side of the Atlantic. Just a little joint making subs and toasted sandwiches, and as good as they may be, it the salami that should be enjoyed. All the classics can be found, even guanchale, but their guanciale is a herbaceous taste of porky goodness.



With pig on the mind it was just a small stroll downtown towards the (strangely) michelin starred gasto-pub restaurant, The Spotted Pig. The interior of the place is cozy to those who could live on bacon and all things meaty. Diagrams of butcher cuts, porcelain piggy banks, pictures of free roaming hogs, Chinatown 'year of the pig' trinkets and any other swine related item. As much focus the pig had, There was none offered for this day's meal.



There were pickles though. A small dish off house pickled items (green beans, turnips, red peppers, and gherkins) that were expertly flavored without loosing their original veggie essence.



Two thick slices of grilled bread topped with a rough grind of chicken livers were brought out and were just Incredible. Very meaty without being too funky. Rich and straight forward with a slight irony finish that pleased my taste buds all the way to the last bite.



Being brunch/lunch time, there menu was filled with calming and easy dishes. A plate of "good enough to eat by itself" french toast with rhubarb compote and warm maple syrup. The toast was creamy all the way through but not the least bit mushy. The amazing rhubarb stood out with a sweet and sour flavor that needed no extra sweetness (but authentic maple syrup didn't hurt). French toast, possibly one of the best ways to extend dessert into not only breakfast but lunch as well.



On the more savory side of things was a simple but well prepared burger. Nearly a half pound of char-grilled beef was slathered with majestic and authentic Roquefort cheese. All was sandwiched in-between a toothsomely soft and warm bun. Three sections of flavors. No unnecessary condiments to confuse or mess with the essential flavors of meat, bread and cheese. So simple and for such a good reason. What seemed like three potatoes worth of thinly cut fries were an obvious but practical addition. Studded with fired garlic and tossed with nearly an entire bush of rosemary, the fries were among the best I've ever had. And I'm very picky about my 'frites'.

Feeling a bit top heavy, rest was on the mind for next few hours. Beautiful day in Central Park along with highly captivating art at the MET was just the way to finish a gluttonous afternoon.

Night came and transformed the city like it always does. The noise doesn't lower- it concentrates, the masses don't leave-they congregate, the rhythm doesn't stop- it changes. Feeling a certain level of transformation myself, I was hit with a sudden need for nourishment.

Continuing into the night with the lust of a multi-hour food deprived stomach, I began to grow with concern. Walking by full tables and mid-meal tasting menus, the options for dinner were becoming limited. This was Saturday night and if there is one thing New Yorkers like to do, its eat good food. All places demanded reservations which we did not have. The idea of obtaining a table as a walk-in was more humorous than realistic. It was beginning to look like a night limited to kebabs and gummy pizzas. And then as if it was meant to be, two lonely bar seats were available at the season driven-farmer friendly restaurant: Blue Hill.



As wine was poured and bread was broken, the kitchen sent a little palate exciter of hot 'late season' butternut squash soup. Rich with cream and full of natural sweetness, the soup was smooth and uncomplicated.



A starter of grilled chicken wings, tarragon vinaigrette and eleven different types of greens. A monument to the world of dressed salads. Phenomenal flavor and proper emulsification made the tarragon stand out on the plate, but it didn't cover the greens. Instead it was streaked along side without pretension, allowing the focus to be on the natural flavors that each one of the eleven leaves held. Balanced by a protein of seasoned chicken, this undressed salad was indeed naked but its elegant posture made it highly desirable.



Chestnut ravioli filled with butternut squash and tossed with butter and bacon. A wonderful nutty flavor rose from the pasta that worked in wonderful harmony with the soft and decadent squash filling. (One thing that really stuck out was how different the squash flavor was between this dish and the previous 'amuse-shooter'. One application played off the sugar content of the fruit while the other brought out the more savory vegetable-like qualities.) The bacon was distinct when consumed and all was lubricated so nicely by the butter. The braised greens were unmemorable and only got in the way.



And then, as if an ocean breeze brought the brisk sensation of growth and spring, a lightly compacted form of moist Maine crab-meat lightly bathing among a broth of fragrant citrus was gracefully set atop our table. The crab had a remarkable sea-salt freshness that was enhanced only by the organic essence of the basil and thin shavings of fennel and celery root. Segmented blood oranges popped with sweet juice while the broth delighted without being to tart.



If there ever is a place to order chicken, it is here at Blue Hill. More than the local fish or even the pork belly, the breast of chicken is the show stopper. Coming from the local farm and being incredibly fresh guarantees a tasty bird, but the determining factor comes from the hands of the chef. Blue Hill is the first certified restaurant in New York that has been legally allowed to use the 'sous-vide' cooking technique. As large of an impact that this bagging and poaching method has had on kitchens across the country, Blue Hill utilizes the method without misuse. Soft to the bite, juicy, flavorful and seasoned impeccably well. Each forkful is taken with enormous satisfaction, everything is right. For the skin fans (me included) the chef has taken the liberty of searing a small piece of dark meat to an almost deep-fried crunch. The local carrots transformed ones palate into a playground. Every bite was filled with tastes that never tired, accessible in every regard making the last bite just as amazing as the first. It was a spectacle of cooking, a wonder of culinary brilliance and a moment that defined greatness.



As much as my mind was fixated on the previous dish things slowly changed when the dessert menu was brought out. I have a soft spot for cake, banana cake being one of those things that brings me back to a comfortable place. The soothing quality of soft butter cake and warm bananas with chocolate ice cream is a guarantee sleep inducer. Then just to make things interesting, the caramel was touched up with lime juice, which really balanced everything without allowing sugar to overwhelm.



On a different realm but just as decadent was a deeply caramelized pineapple upside-down cake with a puree of pineapple pieces and ice cream. The thickly cut piece of fruit was tender to the touch and rich on the tongue while never being too heavy.

A meal of real food. The ingredients were respectfully treated and sustainably grown making for a series of flavors that delighted late after the last bite.

A warm evening's walk through the neighborhood capped the filling day off at such a nice pace. As sleep came that night all the day's worth filled my mind. The moments that were enjoyed and savored were now memories to hold and digest. Feeling emotionally fulfilled and physically filled, I couldn't stop from thinking of what the new morning's breakfast would hold. Drifting off with a desire for the delicious, ending the day just as it had begun.