I’ve eaten crawfish only a handful of times in my life, usually as an ingredient in a dish like gumbo, never by itself. I’ve always enjoyed it, but in NYC you have to go out of your way to find crawfish. As a result, I don’t eat it much.
So you can imagine my delight when my sister told me that my family here in Houston have been cooking up large batches of it every Friday this crawfish season.
It helps that the price of live crawfish has been as low as $.99 per pound at H.E.B. , because last night they bought thirty-nine pounds of it.
That’s my uncle skillfully cooking the crawfish. The meal was accompanied by equally yummy garlic corn-on-the-cob and Seafood Alfredo. He says he learned how to make all of this from watching Top Chef.
The best part about eating food that requires disassembly is that it forces you to eat slow and chillax with your dining partners. Here, my sister and stepmom fill me on family
gossip news since my last visit to Houston.
Here’s what the pile looked like after we finished. I stayed at the table to continue shelling the crawfish, which my uncle will cook into other dishes like Crawfish Fried Rice.
My uncle ate last after cooking the entire batch of crawfish. Dessert was Häagen-Daz ice cream bars.
Needless to say, this was my favorite meal of the trip so far.
Because I have a thing for spicy hotpot, restaurants with big lighted signs, and Sunset Park Chinatown, Mister Hotpot on Eighth Avenue shot to the top of my list when searching for Chinese food on Sunday night.
It was well worth the trip. The food was very tasty, service was good, and they were open late.
I wanted to compliment Hotpot Xiānshēng personally, but I think he’d already left for the day.
Growing up in Nutley, this retro Stewart’s in nearby Kearny was a familiar sight but one that I can’t recall ever stepping foot in.
That changed today when my family and I stopped in for lunch. Naturally, we each had a root beer to go with our various fried-meat-between-bread entrees. We were all very pleasantly surprised at how tasty the food was.
It was a beautiful day, so we opted out of car-dining and instead sat at one of the outdoor tables. What you can’t tell from the photo is that someone in our party actually brought tea eggs to compliment the meal. I can only wonder what the waitress thought when she saw that.
I’m been a coffee addict since my teen years, but it wasn’t until about four years ago that I finally optimized the process for flavor, cost, and time. Until I find something better, here’s what I’m currently doing:
Coffee at home: Organic Fair Trade Ethiopian Yirgacheffe beans from Coffee Bean Direct. I grind the beans in an inexpensive Braun blade grinder and make the coffee in a Chemex eight-cup coffeemaker. This coffee will last in the fridge for a few days and can be reheated or served iced.
I might try a fancier burr grinder if I ever get the spare cash. Every now and then I’ll try different beans to mix things up, but I always come back to Yirgacheffe.
Coffee out: Despite what you’ve just read, I’m not a snob about coffee so there’s lot of places I can enjoy a good cup. I just try to have it in places where I know the coffee won’t be too weak or too bitter.
But if Roasting Plants were everywhere, I’d probably be going there exclusively when I’m not at home. I love the coffee selection there and the vibe is like an amusement park for java addicts.
Just wanted to give a shout-out to the man who, in an average week for me, cooks almost ten percent of my meals.
Mohamed of the Palomino halal truck at 116 St & Lenox, thank you for feeding me so well. And yes, I really do want extra extra red sauce.
As far as I can tell, there’s no way to know if you’re near the end of a Sodastream tank. Is there a name for the anxiety that comes with this uncertainty?
NO points for answering “first world problem.” None whatsoever.
We interrupt this blog to bring you an imp– HEY EVERYBODY, COFFEE FLOAT!
I don’t know how I got hooked on these things — and definitely don’t know how to unhook myself.
(Bklyn Blggng HQ)
You gotta love a place where the salad bar has green jello right next to kim chee. This place is old school in all the best ways, down to normal-sized plates and cups that were common before the era of super-sized everything. I hope this place is here forever.
(Wailana Coffee House, Honolulu, HI)
The first rule of Chinatown Cake Club is you do not talk about Chinatown Cake Club.
I forget exactly what the other rules are, but fortunately there’s none about photography.