Best Dishes of 2013

Not to miss out on the end-of-year listacles, a look back at my most memorable dishes from this year.  Note these are all restaurant creations.  If I had to include some of the wonderful home cooked meals I’ve been served and cooked myself, it would be a much longer list as the year was also full of great home cooking.  In no particular order….

17 dishes at Hotel the Village: On my second visit to Sri Lanka I continued to be impressed with the vast array of cooking techniques and flavor combinations that could be presented in a single meal.  However, nowhere have I seen more diverse, complex, vegetable-driven preparations than at Hotel The Village restaurant in Girithali, Sri Lanka.  We were awestruck by the bounty when we weren’t busy eating from the 15 different bowls of curried vegetables, dal, pork, lake fish, and sambal presented with two different kinds of rice. With juice, this feast came to barely USD$10 per person.

Cacio e Pepe at Lupa:  Mario Batali’s Lupa is no secret, and for anyone who has eaten there, neither is the Cacio e Pepe.  While it may have taken me a while to get on board with this program, I made up for it plenty going back four times this year.  When you find a dish that is “the best”, it is hard to keep away when the craving strikes for the perfect cheese and black pepper slicked pasta.

Rabbit in Salt Bowl with Courgettes at Duck Soup: Since stumbling upon this restaurant suggestion on a London food blog a few summers back, this has quickly become a go-to restaurant for John and me.  The small plates change constantly and we have been consistently impressed with their range. This Labor Day weekend it was a braised rabbit dish with baby courgettes served in a Himalayan salt bowl that captured my taste buds’ memory and insured that as long as Duck Soup is open, we will keep coming back.

Ddukbokki at Hanjan:  I love Korean, in no small way because I’m obsessed with pickled food and kimchi is perhaps the pinnacle of pickling technique.  Hanjan, a modern Korean newcomer to the Flatiron district makes kimchi all right, and it is a must every time I eat there.  Along with the kimchi, the Pork Fat “Ddukbokki” is now on my “must order” list.  Chewy rice cakes and briny sliced fish cakes mingle in a slick of spicy pork fat.  There is nothing quite like it.

Lamb Neck at Calliope:  I should be embarrassed how often I eat lunch at Calliope.  I can’t help it.  Eric Korsh and Ginevra Iverson might be making classic (and updated classic) French food better than the French in this Francophile city.  But if you go once, go for dinner, as that is where their food truly shines.  There is always a game bird on the menu, and it is always delicious.  Some nights I have been enchanted by specials such as a deconstructed cassoulet made with confit veal breast.  But make sure someone at your table orders the hot and sour braised lamb neck, served off the bone with pillow-light mascarpone agnolotti.  That is the stuff dreams are made of.  

Ceviche at El Camello Jr.: When two singing taxi drivers tell you that this is their go-to place for fish whenever they shuttle tourists the hour and a half drive from the Cancun airport to Tulum, you know the food has got to be good.  El Camello Jr. is owned by fisherman and attached to a seafood market.  The fish is so fresh you can watch the cooks cleaning the catch from an open window.  The “chico” fish ceviche was so not-small and so delicious that could have been a meal for two on its own, with a side of excellent chips and a cerveza, of course.

Adobada at Los Tacos No. 1: Los Tacos No. 1 changed my life.  This is not hyperbole.  As a native Californian, homesickness to me tastes like tacos.  I mean real tacos.  Not the fancy versions popping up all over New York from star chefs trying to reinvent the wheel.  I mean real, honest, homemade tortilla, fresh salsa, meat-on-a-spit tacos.  Then three entrepreneurs schooled in Tijuana-style tacos brought Los Tacos No. 1 to Chelsea Market, practically at my doorstep.  Now when I get the craving, a taste of home (washed down with an ice cold Jamaica) is only a hop, skip, and jump away.

Tri-color Pappardelle with Matsutake Mushrooms at Piora: I despise the word “fusion”, but even then, I have been hard pressed to come up with a word to summarize the style at West Village newcomer Piora.  So I won’t.  It is enough to know the food is wonderful without trying to hard (even if the service does try a bit too hard on occasion).  A special one night last fall of tri-color homemade pappardelle with Matsutake mushrooms, a varietal prized in Japan, seemed a classic mash-up of Asian and Italian sensibilities.  Whatever you want to call the cuisine at Piora, all you need to know is that it is delicious.

Green Curry ramen at Bassanova: Who can chose a best ramen in New York City?  We are spoiled for choice.  And though everyone seems to have a personal favorite for the classic variety (mine is Hide-Chan’s spicy ramen) we are just now seeing the innovation that has been happening in Japan migrate to our shores.  A great early example is the fabled Green Curry Ramen from Bassanova, originally of Japan and now in New York’s Chinatown.  Push the weirdly placed mesclun greens to the side and dip your chopsticks into the beautiful, oversized bowl to fish out springy noodles bathing in a rich, fragrant green curry.  It will make you wonder why no one on this side of the Pacific had thought of that already.

Afternoon Snack at Hasaki: The name “Afternoon Snack” was clearly designed to make one laugh.  This is “snack” fit for a giant, or perhaps an Olympic sprinter.  But for us mere mortals who get hungry at lunch time, this spread is a sampler of just about everything wonderful this authentic East Village Japanese restaurant serves: green salad, red miso soup, tempura vegetables and shrimp, grilled miso salmon, two seaweed salads, and the chef’s sushi and roll selection of the day.  At $18, it might just be the best value “snack” in New York City.

Wishing you food adventures and happy eating in 2014!

Note:  In my capacity as a wine salesperson I do business with Piora, Hanjan, and Calliope.  However, I paid for all food mentioned here and would have happily eaten at any of these restaurants regardless of my business relationship.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

New York City: 2 Days, 2 People, $200

Grounded Coffee on Jane St. in the West Village

If you were in New York City sometime in the last week, you are the lucky few.  Crisp, clear mornings; falling yellow leaves; precious fading hours of amethyst daylight; these autumn days are the best days to be in New York. 

As such, I thought I would celebrate autumn, the city, and my 100^th blog on Pho the Love of Food with an imaginary trip to a few of my favorite spots in the city right now.  No doubt one can blow the bank on a single meal in this town, but if you live here, that is not the way of life.  More likely you learn how to eat well, often sharing food with a friend or lover to get the most bang for your food buck. 

So here you have it.  Two days, two people, two hundred dollars to spend eating and drinking in this best of all possible times of year in New York City. 

Day One

I rouse John from his precious slumber sometime around 10:00am with promises of coffee just a short walk from our apartment at Grounded.  We pull up two mismatched chairs to read the New York Times over one extra hot latte with organic skim milk and one Japanese Sencha full leaf green tea.  Once caffeinated, we split a poppyseed bagel, easy on the butter, and one of Grounded’s signature breakfast wraps- a tortilla stuffed with scrambled eggs and turkey sausage then griddled on a Panini press until crisp. ($13)

It is a weekday in this imaginary scenario so we hop the L train to the East Village for the “Duck Bowl Set Lunch” at Momofuku Ssam Bar (not served on weekends).  The sweet, sticky, juicy duck breast and shredded leg served with rice, lettuce cups, scallion pancake and a side of spicy roasted potatoes is almost enough for two people to share.  We throw in an order of duck dumplings for good measure all washed down with oolong iced tea. ($32)

After an afternoon long run on the Hudson River and some shopping for new releases at Book Book on Bleecker Street, John’s getting peckish.  A small order of fries with bourbon dipping sauce and two Belgian beers in courtyard at Vol de Nuit (otherwise known as “The Belgian Beer Bar”) gets us back in a good place.  ($25)

Do I feel any shame in eating regularly across the street from our apartment?  If the food weren’t so damn good at Corsino you’d have every right to call me lazy.  But the Tagliatelle with Pork Ragu and Mint is one of the most satisfying pastas in town.  We share an order of the tagliatelle and a half bottle of Valpolicella then call it a night. ($37)

Day Two

We take our paper over the Chelsea Market to stake out a table before the tour busses arrive.  A latte from 9^th St. Espresso for John ($4) plus an oat scone and almond brioche from Amy’s Bread and one green tea ($12) gets Day Two started on the right foot. 

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles

It is back to the East Village for lunch.  I’m pretty sure they add crack to the Spicy Cumin Hand-ripped Lamb Noodles because I get the shakes if it has been too many weeks between visits to Xi’an Famous Foods. While I take mine in a rich, soupy broth, John does his dry, or rather, stir-fried in a slick of chili-laced oil.  Our taste buds hum for hours. ($14.50)

We stick around the East Side and catch a movie.  By the time we come out the sun is fading signaling Happy Hour is getting started at Terroir.  We order two glasses of Musar Jeune, Chateau Musar 2010 (Lebanon) and an appetizer of sage leaves with lamb sausage ($20).

On the seven block walk south to Zabb Elee, I’m pretty sure I can smell the duck larb.  It’s calling to me.  Ground duck, shallots, mint, crispy duck skin, lime, scallion, chili.  My mouth is on fire. We wash it down by splitting a Beer Laos before moving on to the next spot. ($17)

We have room for one more beer and maybe a bit more food.  We continue the southward walk to the Lower East Side because there may be no better Asian food for soaking up excess liquor than the Ham Rice Cakes at Yunnan Kitchen.  The hearty bowl of chewy rice disks is tossed with shaved heritage pork and plenty of chili sauce.  It is drinking food with a conscience. We toast our successful two days of eating with an Ommegang Witte and a Victory Prima Pils.  ($23)

Total for the weekend: $197.50.  (Note this doesn’t include tax and tip but I’m pretty sure not everyone would be as inclined to eat or drink quite as much as us.)  I’m not sure eating this good can only be done in New York, but on gorgeous fall days like these, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be doing it. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Zanzibari Pesto

Potato Fritters with Chili Sauce

We followed the Masai guard into a warmly lit dining room where two doors opened out to the star studded sky.  Just past the sandy porch, waves crashed with the strength of full tide.  We had survived a puddle jumper flight from the Tanzanian bush and landed, it seemed, in paradise.

Fabio, the charismatic owner of Mamamapambo Hotel, ushered John and me up a spiral staircase to a lofted room.  We almost didn’t need a to turn on the lights, the full moon shone bright enough to illuminate the comfortable Zanzibar lounge chairs and plush cushions strewn about the veranda. 

Women Collecting Seaweed

He gave his profuse apologies.  With our plane arriving late that evening there would be no time for his cooks to make a complicated dinner.  But perhaps something simple?  Maybe a mango salad?  Or a plate of pasta?  A pesto or arrabiata could be arranged.

Really?  Pesto and arrabiata in Zanzibar?  That would be easy for his cooks to do, just like that?  We could hardly pass up the offer.

Fifteen minutes later we descended back into the cozy dining room.  One plate of pesto spaghetti made with fresh basil (and did I detect peanuts?) and one spicy penne arrabiata materialized, perfectly al dente. It was as good as if we were in Italy.  Except we were far from Italy, hungrily bent over plates, adrift on a tropical island off the coast of Africa. 

Fisherman on his boat

The next morning I spent a couple of hours watching village life happen below our veranda.  Women waded out into the turquoise waters early in the morning not returning until late in the afternoon, trailing wooden dhows leaden with bulging potato sacks.  These sacks carried the women’s livelihood: seaweed to be dried and shipped to Japan where it would find its way into cosmetics and creams.  Their daughters and sons attempted to help with the load, but even young boys working together could not equal the strength of a mother’s arms as she hoisted a bag on her scarf wrapped head and carried it the long walk in. 

Meanwhile, the few men who appeared to be working, gathered food.  Fishing dhows shipped out for the reef early in the morning returning with their catch and the rising tide.  Boys with sharp sticks drove octopus from their holes and collected them in canvas sacks.  Sea urchins and cockles filled buckets, destined for the market or the feast that would happen after the sun went down for these Muslim villagers celebrating the holy month of Ramadan. 

Mediterranean Tuna

We easily fell into a routine.  Lunch was always pasta giving us a chance to try as many variations as we could. Puttanesca, tuna with mint and lime, fresh crab, then back again to that pesto and arrabiata.  Each (with the exception of slightly gummy crab) was executed with perfection.  Fabio informed us that the produce was grown locally but for certain items like the Spanish olive oil and the Italian dried pasta, they relied on an importer.  His wife, Stephania, had lured the men in the kitchen from up the coast at one of the bigger and splashier resorts catering to mostly Italian tourists.  They already had the basics of Italian cuisine that she built upon, teaching the cooks her own recipes.  These Zanzibari men made pesto better than most Italians I know.

Coconut Crusted Kingfish

In the morning while we nibbled on fresh baked pastries and papaya, Stephania would post the night’s specials on a small black board.  If the fishermen brought in tuna that morning there might be “Mediterranean Fish” listed- grilled and topped with compote of tomato, olives, and garlic.  Kingfish, a local catch, made a couple of appearances, once expertly breaded in a crust of fresh coconut.  Appetizers ranged from a lime drenched mango salad to creamy pumpkin soup to fluffy balls of fried potato puree that would not have been out of place on any New York menu. Samosas stuffed with fish, fresh chapatis, hot sesame studded rolls with every meal, there was little these chefs couldn't cook. 

Before we knew it the three nights were up.  We were tan, relaxed, well-fed and ready to trade in our adult lives for this beach idyll.  We told Fabio and Stephania if they ever needed help, we’d gladly come work for them. 

Work for them?  Nooo… Fabio said.   But if you are really interested, I might have a hotel to sell you, he said with his characteristic wink.

It seemed that the women gathering seaweed weren’t the only ones breaking their backs.  Making pesto in Africa was hard work.  Albeit, Fabio and Stephania’s kind of hard work came with an amazing view and some delicious perks.  

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

I’m Just Saying: Parm, NYC

Meatball Hero at Parm, NYC.

 To say there has been a lot of buzz about Parm, the off-shoot of much hailed Torrisi Italian Specialties in New York City, is an understatement.  In one of his first reviews on the job last month, New York Times restaurant critic Pete Wells gaveParm two stars out of four.  That is a lot of stars for what is essentially an Italian-American sandwich shop. 

I’ll be the first to admit that unlike Pete Wells, I have not eaten at Parm multiple times.  But I did eat there last weekend with my brother, and one time was enough for me to understand a few simple things about this shrine to the hero. 

1.     Service. Perhaps in an effort to stay true to its Italian-American homage, service is spotty.  The waitresses, who seem to have a thing for cat-eye glasses and orangey red lipstick, paid little attention to our table save to plop down each plate as it came up.  I will give points to the hostess who managed the flow of food tourists like a seasoned air traffic controller, calling my cellphone at a bar down the street at the precise time she said she would when a table opened up.

2.     Calamari. When it comes to calamari, I like tentacles.  For my taste, this basket had too few.  But what it lacked in tentacles it made up for in a pile of sweet fried peppers mixed with the lightly breaded, but otherwise ordinary, calamari rings.   As my brother and I sparred forks over the last peppers, I almost wished our basket had been filled with just that.   

Calamari, Parm, NYC.

3.     Chicken Parm. Close my eyes, and I could have been at any cheap-o restaurant in the country eating the chicken parm hero, complete with the acrid taste of burnt oil.  You know, that bitterness that comes from a flat top that hasn’t been cleaned well enough, or a vat of frying oil that has seen too many baskets of fried things go through it?  Yeah, our chicken tasted a bit like that.  I’m just saying… that’s not a flavor you expect in from a restaurant team that is supposedly revolutionizing Italian-American food.

4.     Meatball. And then came the meatball. The meatball hero at Parm is not of any restaurant, or planet for that matter, that I have ever encountered.  The sweet, pink, melt-in-your-mouth combination of veal, beef, and Italian sausage is a revelation in meatball making.  Juicy, tender, and pink, the meat literally melted in my mouth like butter with each bite.  I will never look at a meatball the same way again.

Can a restaurant really thrive off one star-making menu item?  The burnt oil taste of the chicken parm might be forgivable and forgettable was it not so glaringly below the high bar set by the meatball.  But given the enduring popularity of red sauce Italian restaurants in this country, I doubt this one diner’s opinion will keep the hoards away.  That meatball really is something to behold, to hold, and to lustily devour.  But as for the blah calamari and chicken parm, I could find that mediocre standard anywhere you can find an Italian restaurant in this country, probably with no wait and at a fraction of the price.  I’m just saying….

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Cheating Allowed: Molino Spadoni Instant Pizza Flour

 I normally scorn cheating in the kitchen.  I shun the artfully packaged pre-cut vegetables that the line the shelves at Whole Foods.  And I have been known to reprimand friends who think white powder that comes in a green canister is actual cheese. 

But for every rule there is an exception and I believe I have just found a rather good one to mine on cheating at cooking.  It is called Pizza Gran Sapore from Molino Spadoni- essentially pre-leavened flour that is designed for simple assembly of homemade focaccia and pizzas.

Anyone who ever bought a Boboli crust knows finding a way to cheat on the pizza dough is nothing new.  Part of it is convenience- a premade crust saves about 40 minutes of mixing, kneading, and rising- but it is also the fickle nature of yeast, that all important bread ingredient.  Yeast is alive so quality means everything. Those little packets of Fleischmann’s on the store shelf could have been there so long the yeast has long since kicked the bucket.  And high quality yeast is often expensive and only available in large quantities.  If you are not baking bread every day, there will almost certainly be waste.  

Enter the discovery of this Italian instant pizza dough flour I picked up at Buon Italia in New York’s Chelsea Market.  The directions were all in Italian, a language I know little more than “ciao”, but I could make out from the pictorial that all I needed to do was add warm water, mix, and roll out. 

Assembled

Surprisingly, it worked exactly like that.  The dough is breadier than yeasted pizza dough I’ve made in the past but each cup of the flour with about 2/3 cup warm water yielded smooth, pliant dough that pressed out nicely into a 10 inch round.  A couple of trials revealed that due to its more focaccia-like nature, this dough cooked more evenly at a slightly lower temperature (450°F) and for a longer cooking time (about 15-18 minutes) than your average yeast dough.

Fifteen minutes later

Overall, for the effort and outcome it was definitely worth the cheat.  Less than five minutes to mix the dough, ten to let it rest, and fifteen to bake, it was almost less hassle than ordering in.  And if I really wanted to cheat, and only a thin crust New York style could satisfy my pizza craving, Bleecker Street Pizza is only a phone call away. 

Note: A Google search revealed no apparent online retailers of this instant pizza flour.  But the Molino Spadoni brand does appear popular with Italian markets.  Either ask for it at your local Italian market, or try special requesting through Buon Italia’s mail order business.

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

When the Wine Chose the Food: Casa Lever

Brunello di Montalcino, Poggio Antico, 1990

 We chose the restaurant.  They chose the wine.  The wine chose the meal.  That is how dinner went down last Friday at Casa Lever in New York.

We’ve all had those nights where we look at the menu and instantly feel a pang of desire for the fish dish.  Maybe it’s a nicely charred whole branzino.  Perhaps it is a meticulously prepared black cod in an envelope of paper-thin potatoes à la Daniel Boulud.  Or maybe it’s just a simple Colorado trout with cornmeal crust.

And against our better judgment, in addition to that light white fish, we also long for a hearty red wine.  Sometimes we give in, to the detriment of the wine and the fish, neither tasting exactly as they were intended.  But we eat happy nonetheless.

Friday was not one of those nights.  The wine won, and we were happy for it.

To celebrate John’s birthday, friends Dave and Elsa were taking us out to dinner.  Knowing that all parties involved love Italian food, and fresh off a rave review from a trusted friend, we suggested Casa Lever in midtown.

The last time I stepped foot in that restaurant space it was called the Lever House, a restaurant famously lampooned for its Star Trek circa William Shatner interior.  With its resurrection as an Italian restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised by the change of space.  The pod-like booths still line the left wall but the colors have softened, warm woods and gentle lighting make the restaurant genuinely inviting. 

Whole Wheat Gnocchi with Filet Mignon and Cherry Tomato Sauce

Dave is a lover of Italian wine so the list went right to him.  As fate would have it, one of the bottles on the list came from a winery where our dining companions had experienced one of the most memorable meals of their life.  After consulting with the sommelier in hushed tones, a bottle of the 1990 Poggio Antico Brunello di Montalcino was ordered up.  For fondly remembering the past and creating new happy memories, this would be a special bottle for the whole table.

To pair with a Sangiovese of this age, with a rounded mouth of dark fruit and a smooth lingering taste on the palate, there would be no fish entrée.  As intrigued as I was by the spaghetti with Santa Barbara sea urchin, crab, and peperoncino, it would have to wait for another visit.  This wine called for meat. 

I have to thank Dave and the wine for my main course selection.  Were it not for Dave’s wine choice I might never have ordered the whole wheat gnocchi, a dish that defied the imagery that “whole wheat” conjures of dense, health food. These morsels were fluffier than any pillow I’ve ever laid my head on.  But it was the sauce that truly complimented the nuance and depth of the wine- bits of filet mignon, seared just till cooked but still tender, were tossed in with an intensely concentrated sweet tomato sauce balanced with the sharp bite of grated Pecorino cheese. 

I am not often one for giving up control on a meal, but this time I was happy to oblige.  If Dave could choose the wine and the wine could choose the food, I might never drink hearty reds with fish again. 

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell

Best Bites of 2011- Restaurant Edition

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles in Soup from Xi'an Famous Foods

It was a good year for lamb.  And spice.  Whether eating cross-legged at a street vendor in Indonesia, using newspaper as a plate in Sri Lanka, or sampling the latest creation from celebrity chef Jose Andres in Las Vegas, it was a year full of memorable bites.

In no particular order.... 

Head on prawns, a la plancha, anchovy butter, tarragon. The Bristol, Chicago. 

It had been about eight years since my last time in Chicago.  January in Chicago lived up to my weather expectations (bone rattling cold) and food (fantastic).  Even after a mind-blowing meal the night before at 16 filled with every high end food imaginable- truffles, caviar, Waygu beef- it was the shrimp at The Bristol that left the biggest impression of the trip.  Packed with deep flavor from the fatty head and the prawns came dripping in luscious herbed anchovy butter.  I licked my fingers.

Spaghittusu cun Allu Ollu e Bottariga.  La Ciccia, San Francisco. 

The meal that started it all- my obsession with Sardinian food that is.  Trying to break out of our Cali-Italian dining rut in San Francisco, I booked a table at this specifically Sardinian restaurant in Noe Valley for my boyfriend’s birthday.  The restaurant and the cuisine excel in creating complex flavors with simple ingredients.  Spaghetti with spicy oil and bottarga, or mullet roe, topped with golden breadcrumbs tattooed my tastebuds with the memory of truly excellent regional Italian cuisine.
On my Sardinian obsession: All Roads Lead to Sardinia

Duck Tongue Tacos. China Poblano, Las Vegas.

I’ll admit I was highly skeptical of this Chinese-Meets-Mexican concept at the new Cosmopolitan Hotel.  I should not have doubted Jose Andres.  His team deftly managed hand made dumplings in one corner while turning out hand pressed tortillas in another.  Sometimes the two cuisines met in the middle as with the bold flavors of the duck tongue tacos.
For the story on my meal at China Poblano, click here: From China to Mexico By Way of Las Vegas

Egg Hopper with Sambal. Night Market Stall in Kataragama, Sri Lanka.

Sri Lanka had already been wowing me for days with mouth numbing curries, melting dal, fresh fish, and endless preparations of vegetables.  But I was after a taste of the legendary egg hopper, a bowl shaped pancake made of fermented batter filled with a scrambled egg and spicy sambal chili paste.  At a festival in Kataragama, a woman with a huge smile dished up her specialty and wrapped it in newspaper for us to eat on the drive home.  Easily one of the simplest and most memorable bites and meals of my year.
On Hoppers and Curry Rice: To Create Trust First Eat the Fire

Oryx, Springbok, Kudu.  Namibia.

It is too hard to choose just one of these bites.  Therefore this is a tie between all the wild game we ate in Namibia.  At Joe’s in Windhoek.  Oase Guesthouse in Kamanjab.  Erich’s in Swakopmund.  And Sossusvlei Lodge in Sesriem.
More on wild meat in Namibia: The Pride of Namibia

Polenta with bacon lardon, Bagnes cheese, and tomato sauce.  Croix de Coeur, Verbier, Switzerland.

No one told me about how good the food can be in Switzerland- the wine, the chanterelles, and Oh My, the cheese.  Also, I’m not sure I really grasped just how organized the trail system is in the Alps with convenient rest stops for food and drink seemingly every few miles.  At the end of a 9-mile trail run we celebrated with mediocre pasta and an over-the-top delicious plate of polenta.  It came out sizzling in a cast iron pan, topped with a chunky marina sauce, melted cheese from the valley below and thick slices of bacon lardon.  It may have been August but that is a wintry comfort food I would eat any time of year. 

Spicy Cumin Lamb Noodles. (Pictured above)  Xi’an Famous Foods, New York, New York.

I have fond memories of a solo trip to China many years ago, particularly of the food I ate in the Northern city of Xi’an where the spices of the East meet the hearty hand cut wheat noodles of China.  Xi’an Famous Foods does justice to the city for which it is named.  A sinus clearing, steaming bowl of spicy cumin lamb noodles brought back a flood of memories with every slurp.

Mie Goreng with Lamb.  Borobudur, Indonesia.

We escaped our plush hotel one night and its unadventurous tourist food for real local experience.  Sitting cross-legged on plastic mats, the hotel’s restaurant manager had brought us to his personal favorite restaurant in town normally patronized only by locals.  He ordered for us- plates of satay and mie goreng were washed down with warm beer from the convenience store next door.  The spice from the mie goreng- thin rice noodles stir fried with lamb- was so potent that we coughed and our eyes watered even from several meters away from the wok at the street side stall.  Our eyes watered still, this time with happiness, as we asked our guide to order seconds. More on Indonesian street food eating: Eating the Street and the Street Bites Back

Salsa. El Banco, Puerto Vallarta.

It is hard to choose a favorite part of this spectacular retreat on the Mexican coast far away from the crowds of Puerta Vallarta.  If I had to choose one thing, it might be the salsa whipped up daily by the villa’s chef.  We managed to overcome my lack of Spanish and her lack of English when she taught me how to make this salsa of blackened chilies simply by watching her work.  I now can have a little taste of Mexico whenever I get the urge.
Find the recipe for Olinka's Salsa Here: For Heat Loving Gringos

Herbs, Flowers, Foraged Greens, Curds and Whey. Forage, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“Forage” was certainly a buzzword of 2011 in the world of food, but this restaurant was enough ahead of the trend to actually name this small, sleek establishment after one of the methods through which these young chef/owners procure their food.  A simple salad of herbs and flowers from their backyard greenhouse and foraged greens from a nearby park was topped with milky whey and salty curds.  It sounded strange, looked beautiful, and tasted hauntingly of the land from which the dish came.
For a detailed account of my meal at Forage, click here: And the Winner Is...

Lasagna. Bianca, New York, New York.

Not new for me, the lasagna at Bianca was special precisely because it is an old familiar friend.  Our first night moving into our new apartment in New York after living in California for over five years, it was to Bianca we went to celebrate with paper thin sheets of pasta layered with béchamel and meat sauce- possibly the best lasagna anywhere in the world.

Stay tuned for the best of my year in cooking.  

Amy Powell is a food and travel writer based in New York City. She is a graduate of Cornell University's School of Hotel Administration and the French Culinary Institute. Follow her on Twitter @amymariepowell