THE HUNT: Hash browns in NYC Restaurant 1

Restaurant 1: Cafe Cluny

284 W. 12th Street (at W. 4th Street)

New York City.

Rating: 3

Description on the menu: "Hash browns"

Actual description: More like a potato cake: tiny potato nuggets clumped together into a large cake about an inch thick and pan-seared on each side, creating a crusty outside layer of slightly fried potato.  Inside, the potato stays mushy with bits of potato with slightly thicker consistency, but without noticeably varying texture.  The cake is then cut into slices, which is served along side their Herb Omelette or alone as a side. Tasty, but not hash browns. 

Rating Guide: From 1 (Worst)-5 (Best)

THE HUNT: Hash browns in NYC

                                                              image from www.my-chef.org

Hash browns: light and fluffy shavings of potato, lightly kissed by a frying pan so that the edges of each shaving turn golden brown and become delicately crisp as the lace of an antique doily, while keeping its moist texture and muted, but undeniably familiar, taste of home. 

I am on a hunt for hash browns.  Real HASH BROWNS. 

New York City is the city of "Breakfast Potatoes" or "Homefries." Neither come close to hash browns.  They are inferior.  Chunks of crumbling, dry potatoes seasoned with chili powder, paprika, sometimes rosemary, thyme and other herbs are tossed about a frying pan with lumps of green peppers, cut up onion, and occasionally diced tomatoes. Breakfast potatoes are meaty and dense.  Hash browns are airy and exquisite. 

The search is on.

obsessions and addictions

Obsession food: Tempura Onigiri

Where: Cafe Zaiya
entrance through Kinokuniya Bookstore on 6th ave (btwn 40th and 41st sts.)
nyc

All I want is Tempura Onigiri. That's all I ever seem to want as of late. Its "Batter-Fried Shrimp" description doesn't even come close to describing its delectable nature. The flaky, almost crunchy, melt-on-your-tongue-the-moment-it-hits seaweed paper combined with the sweet, softly moist rice make for an excellent combination. And just when you think, "It's pretty good," then creeps in a hint of salt, a bit of crunch, and a wave of lightly spicy-goodness. The taste rises in your mouth as the ingredients mingle together and create a full expanse of deliciousness.

Then you realize that you've eaten the entire thing, and all you want is another.

The preparation to eat this small portion of Japanese wonder adds to its comprehensive nature. Peeling the Scotch Magic Tape from the back and separating its wings of seaweed allows you to pull the cherry-colored tab at the top, ripping through the top plastic wrap of the handroll. This allows each side of the plastic wrap to be pulled out and off, displaying a perfectly triangular-shaped hunk of rice carefully wrapped in dark green seaweed paper with the hidden treasure of shrimp tempura only hinted at by the lightly-fried shrimp tail peeking out from the top.

You've created a little piece of perfection, which you raise to your lips and slide between your teeth as you take your first bite.... thus starting the addiction. Soon you find yourself thinking of it with the same warmth that you would a dear friend. You think, "I could have another... Just one more." Cafe Zaiya, I'm in love.

radishes

Radishes are croutons.

During childhood, I endlessly watched the chapters of Faerie Tale Theatre, hosted by Shelley Duvall. I would sit on the living room floor absorbing the sights and sounds of each story: the sound of the goblets clinking against the plates during "The Princess Who Never Laughed," the over-sized, golden turkey leg the King (of many different stories) was always gnawing at, the crackling chomp of the deep-red apple as Snow White took the bite of gloom and doom. I sat, engrossed in the tales, watching and listening. When it came to sensing food, the auditory senses dramatically dominated over the visual. The deep, full-bodied sound of the King chewing the turkey leg while taking large swigs of wine as the turkey was still in his mouth, became a more powerful memory than the color and texture of the glistening thigh.

Food was important. VERY important.

I loved to eat croutons. Not just any croutons, but Reese's Seasoned Croutons. I would sit in front of the television eating croutons from the bag and watching Faerie Tale Theater. In one of the stories,"Rapunzel," a pregnant wife longed for the radishes from the witch's garden. Her husband snuck into the garden and returned with the mystical radishes, which happened to be blue. The wife was delighted and took a bite of the first radish. This made the most satisfying, hollow crunch. I sat, enamored with this sound. I knew, by the sound, that it must be delicious. I opened the bag of croutons and popped one into my mouth. It made the same crunch! It made the same sound! I knew, from that moment, that radishes were croutons.

This, I later found out, was NOT the case. Radishes were bitter and were not at all the seasoned and flavorful morsels that croutons were. However, I continued to watch and re-watch "Rapunzel," while eating croutons. Ever since then, radishes=croutons.

Radishes were just the beginning (or perhaps a symptom) of my greater infatuation for food. This blog will be an exploration of one of my greatest loves.