I don’t eat out that much at home, so exploring restaurants is one of the things I look forward to when I travel.
New York is exceptionally great for this because it has so many, many great restaurants.
I have a small list of places to try, these are mostly recommendation from friends, food/travel magazines and websites. The list keeps growing, which is fine because I get a sense of accomplishment when I’m able to check a restaurant off it; particularly if the experience exceeded my expectation.
On this recent trip, we had a memorable lunch at the vegan restaurant Candle 79 on the Upper East Side, and a superb dinner at Jack’s Wife Freda – all places I highly recommend and can’t wait to go back and try other items on their menus.
Things have been a little quiet around here. I spent a few whirlwind days in New York for Easter and needed time to recuperate when I got back.
I’ve always loved springtime in New York; although this time the city was coming out of a snowstorm, so the beautiful magnolias at Union Square weren’t in bloom yet, unlike last spring.
For breakfast one morning, we walked from our hotel in midtown and wandered through SoHo and Chinatown into Lower Manhattan to visit with my aunt.
I learnt about turmeric when I was a kid from our neighbour downstairs.
Everyone called him ‘Seaman’ because he worked away at sea for months at a time, he was always relaying some story or other about his time away and the cities he visited.
He seemed to know everything, but not in a show-off kind of way. The adults probably thought he was a little eccentric. Once, he had me go grab my sister’s hymnbook so that his daughter, who was my one of my best friends, and I could sing Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory while he read Grapes of Wrath because he said the book got its title from the song
He drank turmeric tea in the mornings; claiming it was his elixir and the reason why he never got sick.
He grew his own turmeric on a small patch of land covered with lush broad leaves, and would pull out little dirt caked tubers of turmeric from the ground. That, he said, was all the medicine he ever needed.
I’ve started yet another series on the blog called ‘travelogue’, because I realise that even though I allude in the little blurb on the side that I write about travel, I hardly ever blog about travel anymore unless it involves food.
While food will always be the primary focus here on the Whinery, I’d like to every once in a while share some of the lovely sights I encounter on my voyages in search of food. I hope that is ok.
I’d like to start with a visit to the enchanting Musée Rodin.
Last night was the perfect kind of dreary night to bake cookies like these.
It rained all day, and with it came that familiar dismal chill that has you yearning for warm blankets and cosy cafés, or perhaps an indulgent treat.
These salty chocolate chip cookies go well with days like that; they sweeten the day, making it feel a little brighter.
I’ve made a few batches of these cookies in the last little while and I like them – they’re unfussy and simple to make. They come out chewy, soft and crisp around the edges, and deeply chocolatey with the perfect balance of sweet and salty. They’re lovely for teatime, to share with friends or bring on a road trip.