the city that never sleeps is always eating, the last meals

It's been many days since we last spoke of New York. But that's because our last day was so good that we had to build up to it a little. Get your pants on, 'cause here we go again...

While we were disappointed that we had missed out on Barney Greengrass ("The Sturgeon King"), we more than made up for it with our visit to the "Queens of Lake Sturgeon," Russ and Daughters. Located in the Lower East Side, Russ & Daughters is a holdout in what used to be a largely Jewish neighborhood. This is the kind of shop that we definitely don't have in Portland. Sure, Kenny & Zukes opened last year to our immense delight and sure, their Jewish deli fare is top notch, but it just doesn't have quite the same feel as a New York institution like Russ & Daughters. From the decor to the product to the staff, Russ & Daughters operates on a different level than anything we've ever experienced. The cases are crammed with smoked and pickled fish, with easily ten types of salmon alone, and watching over it all is a line of portraits of Russ and his daughters. Ordering felt a little like being in another country; we were crowded in by a set of regulars shouting their orders to the bustling staff behind the counter. It all sounded so foreign to our smoked-fish deprived ears.

We managed to get our order in and retreated from the store with our booty. After grabbing some fresh-squeezed orange-mango juice from a cart across the street, we settled down on a park bench to try the smoked sable and sturgeon we'd selected. The sable was very fishy and ocean-y sweet. It was quite good on its cream cheese-slathered bagel, but we must say that it was no better than the sable we'd had from Kenny & Zukes. But the sturgeon, oh, the sturgeon, was a different story altogether. Incredibly tender, but equally meaty, almost like tuna, it really tasted sublime. Perhaps we'll never know how it stands up to Barney's kingly offerings, but in this case we're inclined to say that Russ' sturgeon is a Queen to be reckoned with.

On our way out of Russ', we impulsively grabbed a chocolate-covered halvah bar. Yes, it was only breakfast, but we had a feeling we'd need a snack later. It just happened that "later" meant "after breakfast." The purchase turned out to be serendipitous; when we popped into a nearby exhibit of the traveling NY Food Museum, we discovered it was focused entirely on the history of the Joyva Candy Company, the maker of our halvah. See, candy for breakfast can be educational.

From there, we hopped on the train to midtown to visit what may be the holy grail of import shops, Kalustyans. The store's small square footage belies its unbelievable selection - the place feels like an endless labyrinth of floor-to-ceiling shelves packed tightly with an array of spices, herbs, beans, pulses, grains, fruits, nuts, oils, sauces, and snacks. After we recovered from our awe, we set about stuffing our shopping basket with oddities for which we had no specific plans. If we hadn't been concerned about carry-on liquid restrictions from the airline, we most certainly would have weighed down our bags with:
1. ghee
2. argan oil
3. elderflower cordial
4. any other pastes and syrups we could stuff in

Instead, we contented ourselves with:
1. Four kinds of exotic rice
2. An assortment of spices including black cardamom, mahleb cherry pits, and dried limes
3. Dried, stuffed Indian peppers and birdseye chiles
4. Indian palm sugar
5. Chestnut paste (we figured we'd mail it home if necessary)

Shopping at Kalustyans revived our appetites, so we headed over to our lunch destination, a Japanese noodle bar in the East Village named Rai Rai Ken. Neither of us have been to Japan, so while we'd like to say the place was authentic, we can't really be sure - except that the cramped noodle bar looked almost exactly like the one in Tampopo, which should count for something, right? Most of the restaurant was taken up with a long narrow counter, behind which three chefs - a grill man, a broth man, and a noodle man - served up all of the dishes the restaurant had to offer.

While everything on the menu looked tasty, we had come for noodles and noodles we would eat. What you need to understand is that A dreams of noodles and insists on trying them whenever she has the opportunity. In truth, what she dreams of is Hamura's Saimin in Kaua'i, about which she could rave for hours. So far, nothing else has matched up, but A did affirm that the noodles we ordered at Rai Rai Ken came close. P got the shio ramen, a subtle seafood-based broth, while A went for the standard shoyu ramen, which is soy based and savory. Both had top-notch, fresh, toothy noodles; a hard-boiled egg; a slab of cooked pork; and those alien-looking pink-swirled fish cakes. The soup was soothing and incredibly filling, but A could have ordered another bowl if P hadn't restrained her. After all, P was still holding out for some dumplings in the afternoon.

While walking around the Lower East Side to work off our lunch, we stumbled upon Economy Candy, a wonderland of chocolate nostalgia. As both of us tend to horde our candy (we're still working on our Easter candy and only recently tossed out the remaining Christmas chocolates), the sheer amount of sugar in this store could have lasted us twenty lifetimes. P recognized candies from his childhood on the East coast that are difficult to find on the west side. We were attracted by the retro wrapper of the Valomilk, so we picked one up to compare to P's childhood favorite, the Mallo Cup. With our choices in hand, we quickly paid and left before we got a second-hand sugar rush.

Given how beautiful the weather was, we decided to stop into Schiller's Liquor bar for a lazy, afternoon drink. Schiller's has absolutely fabulous design with a custom typeface that looks like casually imperfect handwriting and an interior that looks like a unkempt Parisian cafe. As we sat in the breeze from the open doors, P enjoyed a crisp and refreshing Pimm's Cup while A had a glass of a dry rosé. Still longing for those nearby dumplings, we politely declined any food (even after spying a basket of frites passing our table). It may sound like an odd recommendation, but if you ever get there, make sure to check out the bathrooms, which have great old tile work and amazing, restored, antique fixtures.

We passed Vanessa's three times before checking the address and realizing it was the former #1 Dumpling House, for which we had been searching. Really, though, the crowds of people should have tipped us off. Inside, there were easily two dozen women steadily working to prepare the dumplings - one team assembled the raw ingredients in a back production room while another team manned the fryers and steaming pots. We ordered 4 pork & chive dumplings and 8 steamed veggie ones. Total bill? $4! We had been snacking pretty steadily all day, so 12 dumplings was really more than we needed, but we still were bummed when we saw other patrons leaving with giant sesame pancake sandwiches (only $2!) in hand. However, we were consoled by the fact that both varieties of dumplings were so delicious. The pork and chive were clearly the stand-outs, bursting with flavor and so juicy that we barely kept our chins clean.

We were planning on cooking dinner for P's uncles that night, so we had still had some shopping to do. As we headed up to the greenmarket at Union Square, we walked through the ever-expanding Chinatown, past the remaining block of little Italy, and ducked into the Soho Dean & Deluca, just to take a peek. When we passed by, their cheesemonger was raving about a Willamette Valley Cheese named Perrydale. We'll say it one last time: NYC *hearts* PDX (and greater Or-y-gone).

One of the difficulties of our style of traveling is that we tend to treat grocery stores, butchers and markets as tourist attractions, leaving us disappointed that we can't purchase food from them as though we were locals. So we were excited for the chance to patronize some of the farm stands at the greenmarket that we had browsed through earlier in the week. The warm weather we'd had all week had brought out the first of the spring greens; raab, mustard, and kale were piled high beside the bundled asparagus spears. We reminded ourselves that we only needed fixings for one meal and limited our purchases to some beautifully-flowered broccoli raab and nice, thin asparagus. If we hadn't been avoiding liquids for our flight home, we'd easily have splurged on:
1. local maple syrup
2. artisan honey
3. Rick's Picks pickled beets and okra

Even though we love first-of-the-season-asparagus all on its own, we needed a few more things for our meal. We returned to Murray's Cheese to round out the makings for our dinner, enticed by a product we'd spied earlier in the week. Amongst their dried pasta offerings, they had a bin of toasted orecchiette. Quite recently, we had tried our hand at making our own orecchiette and, even more recently, read about the old Italian practice of lightly toasting flour before using it in a recipe. We were intrigued. So, we picked up a hefty bag of this Puglian specialty and began building a meal around it; our just-bought asparagus, a little prosciutto and some wood-smoked, fresh mozzarella from New York's Joe's Dairy.
As P picked up the ingredients, A scanned the shelves for Ronnybrook's yogurt, nearly squealing with delight when she spied the coconut flavor. She made sure to snag one for breakfast in the morning (or maybe for a late-night snack).

On the train back to P's uncles' home, we listed off the places we hadn't had a chance to see; we knew that we'd need to plan another trip to New York to taste everything we'd missed. Four weeks should be about enough time to try it all, right?
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Toasted Orecchiette with Asparagus, Smoked Mozzarella, and Prosciutto

1 lb. dried toasted orecchiette (a Puglian specialty made with lightly baked flour)
1 lb. fresh asparagus spears
1/2 lb. freshly smoked mozzarella
1/4 lb. thinly sliced prosciutto (go for domestic, which is cheaper, as you'll be cooking it)
olive oil
flat-leaf parsley
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. As the water is heating for the pasta, snap off the woody ends of the asparagus and slice the soft green stems on the bias into 1 inch segments. When the water begins to boil, toss the asparagus into the pot and blanch for 30 seconds to 1 minute, testing to make sure they are cooked, but not soft. Remove the asparagus from the water with a slotted spoon and run under cold water to arrest the cooking.

Add the orecchiette to the boiling water from which you've just removed the asparagus. Cook for 11 to 12 minutes, until al dente.

Roughly tear the mozzarella into 1/2 inch pieces and the prosciutto into thin ribbons.

Before draining the orecchiette, reserve a 1/2 cup of the cooking liquid from the pot. Drain the cooked pasta in a colander and add a few good glugs of olive oil to the pot. Return it to the stove over medium heat, and add the prosciutto, cooking lightly for less than a minute. Add the asparagus and toss with some salt and pepper to taste. Throw the orecchiette back in the pot with the asparagus and prosciutto and toss to coat pasta, adding a little of the reserved water if it seems dry. Add the mozzarella and, working quickly (it will start melt!), stir the cheese into the dressed pasta. Transfer to deep pasta bowls and sprinkle with finely chopped flat-leaf parsley.
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Russ & Daughters - 179 E. Houston St; F,V @ Lower East Side/Second Ave; J,M,Z @ Essex
Kalustyans - 123 Lexington Ave; 6 @ 28th St
Rai Rai Ken - 214 E. 10th St; 6 @ Astor Pl; L @ First Ave
Schiller's Liquor Bar - 131 Rivington St; J,M,Z @ Essex; F @ Delancey
Economy Candy - 108 Rivington St; F @ Delancey
Vanessa's Dumpling House - 220 E. 14th St; L @ Third Ave; 4,5,6,L,N,Q,R,W @ 14th St/Union Square
Union Square Greenmarket - Union Square between 14th and 17th Streets
Murray's Cheese - 254 Bleecker Street; 1 @ Christopher St/Sheridan Square; A,B,C,D,E,F,V @ W. 4th St. Washington Square