Good to the bone and straight to The Marrow

Even though I’ll still only be a subway (or two) rides away from the West Village, these are the last few days that I’ll actually be a resident of the neighborhood where I’ve spent the last two eventful years. I’ve had some great times and some not so great times here, everything from career changes to heartbreak, to the many friends who’ve crashed on my couch to getting both locked out and locked in my apartment, to laughing to crying and to everything in between. As a final hurrah and farewell, I decided to have one last big meal out in the neighborhood (though I don’t doubt I’ll be back for more soon enough) at The Marrow, Harold Dieterle’s new restaurant.

Paying homage to both the German and Italian parts of his family, Harold Dieterle has another awesome restaurant on his hands (I’m a big Kin Shop fan) that instead of mixing the two cuisines, features them separately on the menu, like different branches of a family tree. Below, how my friend Stas and I celebrated my move across the East River with one more great meal in the West Village.

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Bone Marrow… c’mon, you know we had to

First out was the restaurant’s namesake, the bone marrow, from the Famiglia Chiarelli branch of the starters section. One giant bone halved and filled with a hearty mix of sea urchin, fried potatoes and meyer lemon aioli, with crunchy toast to spread it all on. The sea urchin was not what I was expecting, with a creamy consistency and sort of neutral flavor.

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Prosciutto wrapped dates

From the meat plates portion of the menu, we picked the dangerously tasty prosciutto wrapped dates with gorgonzola. Plump, tender and crazy flavorful, I could, no lie, throw back a dozen of these. Seriously, these guys could get me in a lot of trouble.

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Duck schnitzel

Moving on to main courses, we first picked from the Familie Dieterle branch and ordered the pan-friend duck schnitzel with a nutty spaetzle of hazelnuts and quark (a dairy product of sorts) with cucumbers and stewed wolfberries, which looked kind of like small red beans but tasted like sweet, cooked raisins. (I love beans and raisins so I was totally on board.)

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Stone Bass “Vitello tonnato”

Then crossing back over to the Italian side of the menu, we chose the sautéed stone bass with fingerling potatoes, cippolini onions, briny olives, a creamy tuna belly sauce and what turned out to be my favorite part of the dish, juicy, fried sweetbreads. Usually I feel just lukewarm about sweetbreads but these were tender and delicious, with a nice breaded coating.

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Chocolate budino

Finally, we were faced with a difficult decision: dessert. Everything sounded great, and while the waiter tried pretty hard to sell us on the ginger stout cake (he said it was far and away the most popular dessert), we were both in a chocolate mood and went with the budino with hazelnut brittle and mascarpone. Chocolate pudding can do no wrong in my eyes and this one, with it’s dense creaminess, was just about perfect. This is in no way a complaint, but the thing to note about this dessert is that it’s a pretty hearty serving of chocolate. The two of us, ardent chocoholics, split this and felt pretty satisfied with the amount we each got. (No fighting necessary.)

Like so many other meals I’ve had in the West Village, I walked out happy and stuffed. Which is basically how I’ll be leaving the West Village in general, happy and stuffed full of memories. Brooklyn, here I come.

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Oatmeal will make it all better

Seriously, when it rains, it pours… and if you’re me it sometimes also turns into a God-forsaken “wintry mix” and then you get locked INSIDE your apartment (yes, it’s totally possible and yes, it’s a COMPLETE fire hazard) and then everything’s broken and nothing’s fine and you end up crying alone in your apartment stomping your feet on the ground and pouting about the world sucking. So, uhm, yea, that was my Monday.

Which is why today absolutely called for something happy, fun, and comforting, and because I’m obviously talking about food, tasty too. Enter OatMeals, a cute little Greenwich Village shop specializing in jazzed up oatmeal, both sweet and savory (which I’d never heard of) and lots of toppings and ingredients to choose from.

Looks like dessert but really it's fig and Gorgonzola oatmeal

Looks like dessert but really it’s fig and Gorgonzola oatmeal

I, for one, love a good bowl of oatmeal. There’s something about soft, warm food that just soothes me, and after the harrowing Monday I had, calming comfort was right up my alley. (I’ll psycho-analyze myself here and say this is probably some deep-seated association going back to baby food. What do you think?) At OatMeals you can have a water base or a milk base, you can go the traditional route with something like brown sugar and cinnamon or fruity with something like pineapple and mango topped oatmeal in coconut milk, you can call it dessert with graham crackers, dulce de leche and whipped cream or make it a meal with something savory, which is exactly what I did.

This beats the hell out of the instant stuff I usually make at home.

This beats the hell out of the instant stuff I usually make at home.

With ingredients like bacon, manchego, and truffle oil, all of the savory options seemed good, but I went with the Fig & Gorgonzola oatmeal in the Mama Bear size. (How adorable is that? Instead of small, medium and large, they have baby bear, mama bear and papa bear.) My creamy milk-based oatmeal was covered in a chunky layer of Gorgonzola crumbles, dried figs and a thick swirl of syrupy balsamic vinegar. It definitely wasn’t the peaches and cream or brown sugar and bananas I’m used to, but I liked it. The Gorgonzola gave it a salty, cheesy flavor and the figs and balsamic glaze added a tangy, sweetness that wasn’t too sugary or dessert-like but reminded me of risotto almost.

Did it fix the crapfest that was Monday? No, not really, but it was a tasty distraction and just the right, subtle reminder I needed that everything wasn’t actually broken.  Just some days require a little bit of oatmeal and a cathartic cry, that’s all. Bring on the rest of the week.

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Pizza worth praising from the mountaintop… or from this blog

I don’t blog about every single thing I eat, and contrary to what my friends might think, I don’t photograph every piece of food I put in my mouth either. When I went to Paulie Gee’s Pizza in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, for example, I had no intention of doing either. I was just having pizza. With friends. In Brooklyn. Nothing to write home about, right? Wrong. 

The Cherry Jones pizza at Paulie Gee's is so damn good that it's almost physically impossible to put down after one bite. I ate two slices before I was able to successfully pause the pizza-shoveling. (In the lower right hand corner, the very green and very tasty Arugula Shmoogula.)

Immediately after biting into the Cherry Jones pizza I ordered, I knew I’d have to get my camera out because I just had to show you this crazy-good pizza. Well, it wasn’t quite immediate though, because once I bit into that first slice and got hit with the insane flavors of creamy, pungent gorgonzola, milky fior di latte mozzarella, perfectly salty prosciutto, tart dried cherries and a drizzle of sweet orange blossom honey, I literally couldn’t pry it away from my mouth. I was about two slices in when I forced myself to put down the pizza just long enough to get one decent picture before there was nothing left but crumbs.

I had heard (or read I should say), from a pretty reliable source, that Paulie Gee’s was good, that it was creative and unusual, but I was in no way prepared for just how much I would love the Cherry Jones. I mean, it was outrageously good. It was mind-blowingly good. It was glaaaadly-take-the-stupid-G-train-all-the-way-to-Greenpoint good.

So while I had no intention of getting into all of this with you, the Cherry Jones left me no choice. If you didn’t already know, then it’s my absolute duty as a relatively decent human being to tell you about the deliciousness that is Paulie Gee’s. Be it by train, plane or automobile, or the wretched G train even, get yourself to Paulie Gee’s, cause it’s definitely something to write home about. (Just make sure to snap your pictures before you dig in.)

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