Coming to America: Day 11, Greenwich Village, New York City

The words 'best falafel' will always get my attention. Everyone knows there's a lot of terrible falafel out there in the big bad world - dark brown discs of any texture ranging from deep fried sawdust to rubber. I'll never forget the pride in the voice of one kebab shop owner as he asked me how I liked his falafel. I couldn't bring myself to tell him it looked and tasted like a wet sock left for a week in a plastic bag.
My love affair with this humble chickpea patty began when I was in university. The local strip housed a Falafel Kitchen, which pretty much kept me well fed for my entire uni life. Sometimes they would stand on the street handing out falafel balls on a tray to entice customers into their store. I would always devise a way to walk back and forth several times for another little snack.

Fast forward to The Big Apple, where Moustache in Greenwich Village, has a reputation for serving the city's best falafel. They're part of the Slow Food movement too, so you know they're putting thought into what they do.




Crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside, with distinct, identifiable flavours, served with pillow-soft pitta bread and fresh salad; what you get at Moustache is exactly what every falafel in the world dreams of being. The best in New York? I'd need to do more research to be sure. But the best I've ever tasted? Definitely. Don't miss the chance to try it if you're in the area.
Get the table in the window and, if you're very lucky, you'll get a little episode of New York life. While we were there, a fire truck turned up to quench a fierce flood from the apartments above. Hot falafel, fresh mint tea, and brawny men with axes. What more could you want?

Coming to America: Day 10, New York City

Yonah Schimmel's Knish Bakery
137 East Houston Street
Between 1st & 2nd

When in the lower east side, you must stop in at this knishery - and make sure you are starving, these puppies are not for the faint hearted.
Go for the vegetable or mushroom knish and a Matzo ball soup on the side and observe the interesting clientele, from cops picking up boxloads of knishes to skateboarder kidlets...all while the knish chef catches some zs in a chair at the back of the room.

Coming to America: Day 9, East Village, New York City

On our way to breakfast, we stop at an international newsagents to grab an English paper only to discover that Bojo is the new Mayor of London. I haven't been this disappointed since John Howard was voted in again in 2004.

Thankfully the friendly folks at B&H Dairy - a tiny vegetarian AND kosher diner in the East village - have an entire menu of comfort food for us to bury our sorrows in.
The stack of french toast made from Challah bread is so gigantic that any memory of Boris is forgotten as soon as it lands in front of me. As always the home fries are a winner, while the spinach blintzes are cooked to perfection with the obligatory bucket of sour cream on the side.
Make sure you get a seat on the counter and watch the staff banter while they work the grill and ladle out hot bowls of mushroom barley and matzo ball soup.

I remember you, lemony ragu

It was some time around 2.30am on January 1st, 2005. I was perched on a bar stool at 'inoteca, a little Italian joint on the corner of Rivington and Ludlow. The festive buzz was all around and I was gurgling away with pished contentment, waiting for a final indulgence after a night full of ‘em; we’d kicked off the night with a glittering cabaret performance from Eartha Kitt and seen in the new year slurping cocktails while Adam DJ’d at Ding Dong. But there was one more little treat left to make this the specialist…

Just to back up a bit: Adam and I were on our 'let's pretend we live in New York' holiday and, for maximum effect, we'd rented an apartment on the lower east side for two weeks. It was a few doors down from 'inoteca where, a few nights earlier, I had discovered my food obsession of the moment: a plate piled with mushroom ragu and creamy lemon polenta. Soft, tart, juicy, sweet, zingy – mmmmmmmm.

So, returning to New Year's Eve and the fact we'd found 'inoteca still open when we were on our way home. Adam had quietly crept away as I enthusiastically explained my must-have craving to the maitre d’ type person, along with the kicker that I really wanted to take it back to bed rather than eat at the restaurant. While loopy-hour take-away may not have been the 'inoteca staple – the joint seemed kind of fancy – rather than shoo me out the door, kick me to the curb or, worse, ignore me, the guy was impressed with my zeal for his ragu. He happily elbowed a little space at the bar and sat me down with a tasty glass of wine. There I waited, merry as could be, for my plate to be made.

And so it was that Adam and I slurped on our first meal for the year – in our PJ’s, sitting in bed in our temporary Manhattan apartment, sipping champagne and taking in the sounds of the city. Blish.

What you'll need

3 large or 6-8 small shallots, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, chopped
A few fresh sprigs of thyme (rip the leaves off the stalks)
2-3 cups of chopped mushrooms (I used enoki, button and shitaake, but any small mushies'll do)
Butter
Olive oil
1 lemon
2-3 cups veggie stock (I was out so used miso paste & vegemite instead, which worked fine)
1/2 cup of old red wine
Salt & pepper
Polenta (I used 125g for 2 people)


For the ragu

Fry the shallots and garlic in olive oil, careful not to brown or burn them (stir regularly). Once they are soft and transluscent, add the mushies and thyme. Stir on med heat for a minute before adding the wine. Stir in a teaspoon of butter (optional) and the stock and turn the heat up to med-high. All you need to do now is reduce the liquid so let it bubble away, stirring occassionally.

For the polenta

You can do the polenta while the ragu is reducing. For 125g of polenta, you'll need the grated rind of one lemon, 1/4 of its juice, about 600ml stock and a spoonful of butter (if you ain't vegan). Bring the stock to the boil. Stir in the butter and add your lemon rind and juice. Reduce the heat then pour in the polenta at a steady stream, stirring repeatedly. Let it cook on medium heat, stirring like a vigilante. It should only take five minutes. You want it kinda on the sloppy side, so don't do it too early or it'll firm up while it cools. When it's done, turn the heat right down and leave the lid on.

When the ragu has lost most of its liquid, plate up.



It might not look so flashy but the combination tastes brilliant, with the smooth, tangy polenta a perfect foil for bitey red mushies. And even though I’ve never been able to perfectly recreate the harmony of the original, the flavour always takes me back to our first dinner of 2005 and that little patch of NYC we happily roamed for a fortnight.

Add an avo to your day

Avocado on toast (ripped off from Cafe Gitane)

I can't go to Cafe Gitane everyday to enjoy this because, sadly, I don't live in New York. But I've tried my darndest to replicate it at home.

Toast some grainy bread.
Spread a generous amount of avocado on the toast.
Sprinkle some chilli flakes and Maldon sea salt on the avocado. Squeeze some lemon and drizzle some olive oil on top.