Food For Thought - Magnolia Bakery, Phaal Curry, and Vanilla Shrimp Review

When I look back at some of the dishes I have eaten, memories come rushing back of my friends, relationships and past love. Memories forever ingrained in my sensual psyche. 

Magnolia Bakery - Friendship with a Dash of Stalkerness

In autumn, my best friend Meredith and I would go to Magnolia Bakery, which was a block away from her house. 

We would wait in line with anticipation, hoping by the time we got through those glass- paned, white wooden doors, that our favorite flavors were still standing beautifully there for us. My favorite Magnolia Cupcake was always the pink icing with yellow cake. Meredith's was the chocolate on chocolate. 

Once we got in, we would rush over to the window sills where the cupcakes rested, select our delicate treats and place them carefully into their stiff, white cardboard boxes. When they had my fav's, I would look over at Meredith and we would laugh with such happiness, without a care in the world. Before we got to the register, we would start eating at least one cupcake, enjoying ever morsel together. Ahhhh!! The sweet taste of Success!!

As I bit into the fluffy, buttery yellow cake and licked the thick, pink frosting I could feel the first rush of sugar take over me. It pulsed through my veins like a tingily spritzer, bubbling, lithly through. This became our regular ritual that was forever changed when one day we saw the man we both wanted to marry.

He was standing in the window carefully choosing his cupcakes, with a half -smile on his perfectly chiseled face that would melt the sun. He had crystal blue eyes that flickered like a diamond as the light hit them. As he gracefully lifted his head and slyly manuevered to the cash register, his true identity was reavealed. It was Jake Gyllenhal - Jakey my Jakey!! My mouth dropped sending yellow cake crumbs to the floor. Meredith clutched my arm and without a word to each other, we instantly pursued. 

Like a lion hunting its prey, we slowly stalked just far enough not to be noticed. We passed through crooked alleyways and backstreets of the West Village. Then just outside of Intermix our friend Julie called to us. With a simple glance and non- verbal head nod, she joined in the hunt. 

Will we catch up to him? What will say if we do? What will he say? These questions raced through my mind.

The thrill of the chase excited us, sending us into a tailspin of giddiness and awe until **POOF** he was gone. He disappeared down a back alley, leaving us to momentarily reflect on our mutual stalkerness.

Brick Lane Curry House - Past Love

Now the Phaal Curry at Brick Lane Curry House reminds me of one of my past loves. Everyone warns you that you're treading on dangerous territory before you eat this curry; and you know they're right but curryosity has you. Once the charming dish arrives in front of you, you ask yourself,  Do you go down the path or do you give up and walk away?

You decide to jump in because you're different, you're daring and life is too short. It looks so intriguing resting before you, aromas that entice your nose and a beautiful plethora of colors, some you have never seen. 

The first bite touches your tongue and the spice starts to set in. It is warm at first and a little pleasurable. You're not quite sure what's happening to you or how to describe this elated feeling you have. And you love it.  It's fun and exciting. It takes you to a place where you never have been before. 

Then as time progresses it gets to be too overwhelming and spreads like a dull pain all over your senses trying to force you to submit. But you can't stop, you try and keep trying but you can't. Something just keeps pulling you in. And even when it's over, the pain still lingers, constantly reminding you of what you had.

Bonaparte Restaurant - Relationships

There is a dish at a place in Montreal, Canada called Restaurant Bonaparte that I just can't get out of my head. 

The lightly salted, pan seared shrimp and scallops in a vanilla, pink peppercorn sauce is one of those dishes that is exactly what you want and need.  Imagine the most unbelievable flavors dancing a quartet in your mouth with high jetes and pirohuettes.  While it doesn't last forever it dances a dance that you can never forget. A dance of pure harmony, pure love and celebration.

Food For Thought

All of my food memories relate back to the life I have lived so far. My food memories are filled with disasters, mistakes, love, friendships, obsession, loss and a sense of home. They bring constant reminders of a need to explore and change. And each day  I find new things to eat, and new things to love. I find new places to explore, new challenges to face and new memories to remind me that it's not the destination but the journey that's so sweet. 

Best Taco in New York City at Diablo Royale Este Review

On Friday Night my friend Noah invited me to dinner at a new/ recently reopened restaurant in the Lower East Side (L.E.S) called Diablo Royale Este.

Diablo Royale is a Mexican restaurant with European influence and a Nuevo twist.  The culinary theme and cultural fusion is seen clearly in their Croque Monsieur Chimichanga dish.

{Aisha Foodista, India, Jarvis - Manager of Diablo Royale}

The décor is a unique cross between a Mexican Ranch and a 1920’s speak easy. On the main level there is a full service bar, seating , and an open kitchen. Open Kitchens are a plus in my book because you can see your food being prepared.

{Diablo Royale Bar}

{Diablo Royale Este Lower Level Interior}

The stairs to the lower level are lit with Jesus Cristo candles that kept screaming fire hazard to me, as my coat almost caught on fire a few times. But I must admit they created an ambience that was dangerously romantic. 

{Diablo Royale Antler Chandelier}

The love seats and sofas were upholstered with a mix of Mexican Falsa blankets and leather pin cushion fabric. The Mexican Falsa blankets added a nice bit of color and feminine accent to contrast the masculine details, like the antler shaped chandeliers and wooden beam ceilings.

{Diablo Royale Este Downstairs Interior}

Personally, the first time I try a new Mexican restaurant I judge it on how well they make two specific dishes: Tacos, and Fajitas. The reason why is because to make either of these two dishes takes skill, creativity, and love. 

You need the skill to make sure you don’t overcook the food and that you execute seasoning properly. 

The creativity comes in with the toppings and use of ingredients, especially with Tacos. 

The love acts as the glue holding the other two skills together. It also adds the final element in creating a great dish. I mean let’s be honest, you can tell when a dish isn’t made with love.

{From Left To Right: Grant, India, Jarvis}

My friend Grant ordered the Chicken Fajitas right away so I decided to go with the Tacos. Plus, I wanted to try a variety of their flavors. My final selections were the Ancho Tuna, Grilled Skirt Steak, and the Fried Oyster.

 {Chicken Fajitas}

    {Left to Right: Grilled Skirt Steak, Ancho Tuna, Fried Oyster Tacos}

Ancho Tuna Taco- The Ancho dusted Tuna was perfectly seared and had a wonderful peppery, fresh flavor. The guacamole and mango salsa complimented the Tuna but was a tad bit overpowered by its Star. Overall the Ancho dusted Tuna was very tasty. I bet it would be really good on a Salad too.

  Grilled Skirt Steak Taco- Parts of the Black Angus Skirt Steak were cooked medium rare, which I didn’t mind but it made it harder to eat because it was very chewy. It was served on a corn tortilla with a chipotle crema that added a nice kick. The caramelized onions and pico de gallo got a little lost in comparison to the flavors and texture of the steak. This was one of the more filling tacos but beware it’s very messy.

   {Right to Left: Fried Oyster, Ancho Tuna Tacos}

 Fried Oyster Taco- It’s funny because when I looked at the menu it immediately caught my eye, but the strange thing is I am not a huge fan of Oysters. But my favorite by far was the Fried Oyster Taco. It was a bite of genius. The other tacos were good but this was great.

If I had one word to describe the Fried Oyster Taco it would be OMIGOSH! 

My friend India hates tacos passionately. I basically forced her to eat this kicking and screaming and she loved it too. Out of all the entrée’s at the table, this was the big hit.

The Masa – Coated Oysters with their generous salt and pepper crust were crispy fried amazingness. They had the perfect amount of breading not too much that I can’t swallow and not too little that I couldn’t get a satisfying, crunchy bite. 

Then there was the tangy, lemon- cumin aioli that added the most incredible, yet simplistic addition. They could have just slapped on some sour cream but instead they used the creamy component  to impart more flavor. The lemon tantalized my tongue and lingered on the roof of my mouth. The cumin added an instant burst of spice and savoriness. 

The cucumbers and cilantro added a freshness. The plantains and sweet canela (Spanish for cinnamon) gave the final note of sweetness, which complimented the lemon- cumin aioli and rounded out the whole dish. It was truly sublime! Even if you don’t like Tacos or Oysters you will love this Taco.

If the food at Diablo Royale Este stays this consistent I have no doubt it will become a fixture on the Lower East Side Culinary scene.

Some Other Favorites 

This Tequila Grilled Shrimp Appetizer was delicious and they're not skimpy with the portions.

{Tequila Grilled Shrimp}

My Friend India ordered the Quesadilla. She said it was really good. 

{Quesadilla}

My friend Noah ordered the Adobo Spare Ribs and although it was one of the tricker dishes to eat he enjoyed it. He used the half knife - half hands technique to cut into the ribs.

{Adobo Spare Ribs}

My First Love Affair Recipe

 From the moment we first saw each other, it was love at first sight and I knew I was in trouble. Like any romance, it didn't start off bad. First, you're swept off your feet. You can't believe how happy you are together.  Then before you know it the obsession sets in and you can't get enough. You slowly start to go crazy. You know it's wrong and everyone tells you to stop but you just can't. You sneak around, plot, and connive just to find ways to see them until one day you wake up. Or maybe you don't.
 

 Either way, once you do finally realize what a hole of a mess you're in, you recognize that you need to get yourself out and fast. You climb through withdrawal, guilt, regret, sadness, yearning, anger, and resentment. And if you're like me then you'll probably fall in the hole a few more times before you come to the final stages of acknowledgment and getting over it.
 

My first tastes of love were incredible. On top of warm dinner rolls, my sexy hunk sat there beautifully melting at the sight of me. As I bit into that flaky bread, I was engulfed with his creamy, salty goodness. Everything was better when butter was around. And it was no secret that we were fond of each other.

Then it started to go downhill. I couldn't wait anymore until dinner time for our daily rendezvous. I wanted more. I grew impatient and came up with a plan. As soon as the coast was clear, I tip-toed through the living room into the kitchen and opened the door that housed my sweet, amazing companion. My mouth watered as I relished the events that were about to ensue. 
Whispering gently, "Yes. I've been waiting a long time for this. Oh, you're looking better than I remember." And as I sunk my teeth into the wonderful, fluffy, flavor enhancer I felt like I was in heaven. Our own personal heaven. I closed my eyes and enjoyed every moment. Then I heard a creeeak.

"What was that?" - I said to myself. 

 bom. bom. creeeeak. 
  

"Oh no. Someone’s coming." I hurriedly threw my loved one back into our love nest, a.k.a the butter drawer. I bolted through the kitchen to the living room nearly running into the sliding door. I jumped over the back of the couch like I was Flo- Jo and hid. 

“They're going to know." I thought to myself in a panic.

"What do I do?"  The only solution I could come up with was the quintessential admission of guilt when you are a kid, pretending like you're innocently sleeping. Come on. I know you all have done it too. Don't judge. 
As I was lying there trying to keep my eyes shut. I began to breathe a sigh of relief when I heard the refrigerator door open. I had a bad feeling the jig was up. 

"What the --- " I hear my mother exclaim. 
"Aisha. Aisssshha."
 Meanwhile, I'm on the couch trying my hardest to keep my eyes closed. I hear the footsteps coming closer. My personal Achilles heel was slowly about to lead to my demise. You see ever since I was little, when I know I am about to get in trouble I awkwardly, and uncontrollably laugh. Which inevitably, has always resulted in my parents saying: "Oh. You think this is funny." followed by harsher punishments. Recognizing this flaw about myself early on, I tried my hardest to keep from laughing.

I hear the footsteps coming closer and closer until I can feel my mom breathing over me.

"Aisha. Get up. I know you're not sleeping."

I lay there still trying my hardest to give the performance of the century.

Suddenly, I feel shaking. "Aisha. Get up."

I slowly open my eyes and rub them. "Oh. Why did you wake me up? I was sleeping."

My mom quickly retorts. "Aisha. I saw you jump over the couch. Did you do this?"

"Do what?" - I say trying to channel those huge doe eyes like the Precious moments dolls.

"This." She whips the butter around from behind her back.

After trying to pin it on my baby brother who was not able to walk yet. I confessed to my affair.

My mom shook her head with disappointment and said. "That's disgusting. Don't do it again."

This made it even more appealing to me. The love affair and secret rendezvous continued.

Like the teacups at Disneyland, we kept spinning round and round faster and faster. I tried to be more discreet at first but as it progressed I didn't care anymore. I just wanted my fix. No matter how many times my parents scolded me and looked at me with shame. I still went back for more. Until one day, I open the fridge and I can't find the butter. I scour each shelf, nook, and cranny frantically looking for my love. Just then my dad walks into the kitchen. He looks at me and laughs.

"Where's the butter?" I snap back.

"We didn't buy any this time. Since you won't stop eating it."

I was crushed. I started going through the first stage of ending a bad romance, withdrawal. Then I felt guilty that I had been so careless and didn't clean up my tracks. Followed by the rest of the stages including begging and promising my parents that I would “stop eating the stick of butter like it was a candy bar”. Despite all my efforts, I was left loveless. As time progressed, I realized I had a problem and My relationship with butter was never the same after that.

Fast forward to the present day. During our weekly meeting at work, one of my co-workers asked if we enjoyed the radishes he brought last meeting. This lead to one of the best and most in-depth conversations I've ever had about root vegetables. Another co-worker mentioned eating butter radishes. We all immediately thought this was a new hybrid of a radish.

"Oh is it related to the watermelon radish?" - Someone shouts.

"No. My dad used to always make it. It's literally butter and radishes and chouwmp, chouwmp ,chouwmp." He said.

I love radishes and I love butter but I had never heard of the two together. Normally, when I ate radishes it was part of a Libyan salad that my dad would make. And yes it’s called “Libyan salad.” 

Libyan Salad is a common North African salad and it's really simple to make. It consists of chopped radishes, cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions.

Each family’s dressing differs slightly but I make mine with a little bit of apple cider vinegar and parsley. Even though it's simple. It packs a wonderful flavor and perfectly balanced texture. It is the perfect complement to spicy and hearty food.

 

Well, I was inspired by this idea of butter and radishes together. It was a way to try and re-kindle some of the sparks between me and my former love.  So when I got home I decided to do a remix on the Libyan salad.

Usually, this salad is served cold but I wanted to make a warm salad that would be more appropriate for the cold weather. Also, in our meeting, a lot of my co-workers expressed a strong dislike for radishes. For me, cooking is about creativity and re-invention. I wanted to see if I could design a dish that would take away some of the spicy, unpleasantness that caused my co-workers to wince at the thought of eating a radish. 

I started off by sauteeing, my baby, butter in a pan. Then I added thinly sliced radishes to the pan along with onions, tomatoes, celery, cucumber, and salt. At the last second, I added in halved grapes for some sweetness and parsley to give some Vitamin C and freshness. Parsley is a major ingredient used in North African cuisine. Specifically, in Libyan cuisine, parsley sometimes replaces vegetables. The reason for this is Parsley is packed with Vitamin C, which makes it a really great substitute for certain vegetables that may not be available in the region.

  

It was absolutely fabulous. I had some leftover rotisserie chicken breast and I made a honey glaze to put on top of it. I paired both of these up with a side of couscous. It was a delicious meal that only took 15 minutes to make.

I must admit It was also a tad bit therapeutic because it was the first time I used butter as a star ingredient instead of a flavor enhancer. But don’t worry, I haven’t started eating it as a candy bar again…..