RACHAEL RAY

Independent is a funny word. It means “free from the influence, guidance, or control of another or others; self-reliant.”

I thought I was pretty “indie,” until recently; in fact I wore this term as a badge and held onto it like a trophy. But kids — Austin kicks my butt in the indie category.

Having just got back from the South By South West (SXSW) music festival I can honestly say that I feel like the hippest 30 year-old around just for spending time within the Austin city limits.

Because it encourages small, non-affiliated businesses, Austin is gorgeously made up of thousands of independent stores, restaurants and experiences that you will only be able to find there.

Known as the live music capital of the world, Austin’s major import, and export, is sound and there is plenty of it. During the SXSW festival every bar, eatery, barn, park, outhouse, cat house and house of worship are retrofitted with stages, sound systems and lights.

Musicians from around the world, who carry with them that independent fire, descend on the scenery. They come to save and pay homage to an art form that in this digital age has been read its last rites, but fails to retire.

Rachael, being like many — excited and in love with the majesty that can come out of a guitar, horn or off a lip — invited a group of artists to join her for a celebration in Austin. The following are a few of those bands and others, whose performances we were able to catch while in Austin. I am not providing any reviews or star rating system — I figured this is your chance to search out something ‘not dependent on or affiliated with a larger or controlling entity.’ Click on the names for audio. Enjoy!

Lightspeed Champion

Download: Midnight Surprise

The Knux

Download: Cappuccino

The Fashion

Download: Like Knives

Joe Hell & The Red Roosters

Download: ‘78

The Whigs:

Download: Right Hand on My Heart

Los Campesinos!

Download: Frontwards

Handsome Furs

Download: Handsome Furs Hate This City

The Cringe w/ Billy Simmons of ZZ Top

Download: In God We Trust

AutoVaughn

Download: Inertia

Scissors For Lefty

Download: Nickles & Dimes

Holy ….

Download: Lovely Allen

The Stills

Download: Helicopters

The Raveonettes

Download: Dead Sound

Bob Schneider

Download: Captain Kirk

Finally, if you get a chance to see Efren Ramirez (aka Pedro from the movie Napoleon Dynamite) do it!

Thank you Austin!

Giddy Up!

Its funny how arrogant and pride filled Americans, such as The Shepherd, can be. When researching our recent trip to St. Petersburg, Russia we were amazed about how many times our guidebooks repeated the same advice. From Lonely Planet to Fodors, all the seasoned travelers seemed to agree that when in Russia “it is important to never accept a drinking challenge proposed by a Russian comrade.”

The jet lag was fierce when we arrived in St. Petersburg and there were few chances to encounter such a competition. In fact, we didn’t even notice any of this monumental liquor consumption that is considered mythic here in the States. When our flight landed, I had expected to encounter Peter the Great-like men who needed very little clothing, despite the frigid temperatures, and who chugged vodka out of large metal flasks. Well, these mammoth men weren’t around on Day One, maybe it was a holiday, but they definately made themselves visible by Day Two.

After a lovely dinner we headed to check out the best the city had in terms of nightlife. We ended up in a sort of warehouse district where there were seven clubs and bars next to each other. We stopped at the Fidel Bar which was featured in our cute little hip guide. Possibly the smokiest bar in the world, this small narrow spot was jammed pack with locals and Scandanavians who had crossed the border to take in the scene. Its still 1984 in St. Petersburg and the music and clothing reflects this strange time space continuum that exists there. After a few beers, our group was ready to abandon the techno beats and head to a more pub like environment to meet people who would be enamored by our status as foreigners and enjoy our stories of Lindsay Lohan, freedom and American Idol.

On a recommendation, we went to The Office Pub — an ex-pat looking bar filled with young Russian twenty somethings listening to classic American rock n’ roll. The six of us commandered a table and ordered a bunch of White Russians — just kidding — actually I don’t remember seeing anyone drinking a White Russian at all??? A lovely waitress came to take our order and promptly told us that we would be having vodka and nothing else. “Vodka it is, thank you,” we said.

In all Russian bars, vodka is served in half liter bottles and is accompanied by several cold shot glasses and cartons of orange juice and tonic. The OJ and tonic are for show as we rarely were given actual glasses or ice to create a mixed drink. The preferred vodka brand is “Russian Standard” and the only acceptable way to enjoy it is quickly.

Let’s get one thing straight — Russians love Americans! Not sure why, but I felt very welcome, especially after it was made obvious that we held no Cold War grudges. “America and us, we are ok,” was repeated multiple times by locals as part of a welcoming handshake. And once they observed our indulgence in their vodka ritual we became royalty. Our table of six soon ballooned to 10. We were the popular kids in school and with every new friend we embarked on another round of cheers or “Na zdorovia.”

A young lad, no more than 18, who was sitting with us excused himself at one point. Apparently, he had be having an issue with a relation of his who was also sitting with us. They politely stepped outside the window and had a bare knuckle boxing match on the sidewalk much to the amusement of the pub patrons. These guys literally put up their dukes like in the old days and fought for a good five minutes. With no clear victor, they returned inside to their stools, examined their bruises and cuts and then toasted each others savage expressions of friendship.

By this time, we had all had our fill of drinks and had actually put our coats on and began to say our goodbyes. Then it happened. “You Americans, get over here, lets have competition,” howled the bartender. Remembering what we had read and the clear warnings we had received about this sort of thing, we quickly replied, “lets do this!”

What happened next had to be told to me by others as I have no recollection of it. But apparently, it involved tumbler sized shots, signing of the Russian and United States national anthems, many powerful hugs and some sort of medal ceremony where we were presented with another bottle of vodka for the road.

I was told when we finally left around five in the morning the city was being blanketed by snow making it all the more difficult to walk. A stop at a 24-hour Subway sandwich shop almost resulted in the authorities being summoned after our vodka trophy was accidentally dropped in the middle of the place. The men were put to bed by our fantastically caring better halves, where we dreamed about how well we represented our country — how we didn’t back down from a challenge and how we were able to make friends by speaking in the only international language — intoxication.

For me, the beautiful dream lasted till 8 pm the following day and was quickly followed by a pounding headache, watering eyes and a tragically upset stomach. What a night!

God Bless all our new friends in Russia — we hope they come and visit so we can repay/punish them for their hospitality/hazing.

Giddy Up!

PS — this one’s for Adam — I promise to pick up the pace.

The Winter Palace

Dismissing all advice from friends and family who thought we would literally freeze to death, Kim and I headed to Russia for a post holiday trip. In hopes of having the most unique experience possible we settled on St. Petersburg — known for their caviar and vodka. We didn’t have any caviar, but we did try a little vodka. Ok a lot of Vodka!

St. Petersburg was an eerie city that at many times felt like it was struggling with its new democracy. It was not uncommon to see elderly soldiers sitting on street corners, wearing their old uniforms and longing for a post to guard. Songs like “Purple Rain” and “Like a Virgin” were brand new to many residents who partook in the impromptu dance parties that happened after dinner in most restaurants. The women, who were the most beautiful I have seen in the World including the U.S., dressed as if they had been cast in the 1984 movie “Breakin’ 2 Electric Boogaloo.” Admiring the residents as we walked around, we would constantly make comments about how pretty a girl was and then follow it up with a snipe about the fact she was wearing patent leather knee high boots, silk stockings and a mini skirt in 30 degree weather.

St. Petersburg was a surreal place, mostly because the sun didn’t come up till 10:30 am and, not once passing overhead, would set at 3:15 pm. But there was also a sense of extravagance there unmatched by anywhere else I have traveled. The cities historical architecture, mainly commissioned by Peter the Great, was lavish to say the least. There were no typical buildings. The Church on Spilled Blood (below) was a specific example.

The Church on Spilled Blood

You could look at a single structure for hours and still not notice all the intricate details. Take the Hermitage Museum — a massive structure made up of six buildings, one of which was the Winter Palace of Peter himself. If the outside wasn’t impressive its collection is probably the largest in the world — someone told us if you spent three minutes looking at each piece in the museum it would take 20 years to get through the whole place. It took us four hours just to fly through one floor in one building.

Part of the Hermitage

Another piece of amazing architecture was the Mariinsky Theater where we took in a performance of the Nutcracker. The beauty of this venue was seriously breathtaking and during intermissions you were able to explore the guts and hidden rooms of this palacial masterpiece.

The Nutcracker at the Mariinsky Theater

Food was extravagant as well and if your taste-buds are satisfied with heavy cream sauces and robust meat dishes than St. Petersburg is the right place for you. There are not many greens veggies served, just a lot of root vegetables such as beets, which accounts for all the borscht. One of my favorite dishes was Pelmeni — a meat stuffed dumpling that would come in either a clear broth or tomato sauce. Another standout dish was the beef stroganoff, which is served a variety of different ways including in a brown gravy over rice or noodles or with a red cream sauce.

Dinning rooms tended to be extremely lavish even in nonexpensive places.

A standout restaurant we visited was the Krockodil located on a street called Galenaria. When I say this was the scariest street I have ever been down in my life I am not exaggerating. The whole block was dug up and under construction which meant from the step of any building it was a four foot drop into a pit that was once a street. There was no street lamps, people or noise absent of our own feet trudging through the mud. I could hear my mom scolding me for being anywhere near this place. Even when we found the restaurant we weren’t sure we had found anything. The hardest part of Russia is the cyrillic alphabet they use. For example, this was what is written on the sign outside the restaurant “крокодил.” To us that didn’t say Krockodil, Crocodile, Alligator or any other reptile.But once inside we new we had found the right place. A tiny little locals-only style bistro serving Russian-French fare. This was the kind of place where you stay all night and take your time. A pre-dinner cocktail slowly transitions into a salad or appetizer and so on and so on. It was a gem on a very tragic street. Like all Russian restaurants we visited, Krockodil had a menu that was at least 30 pages long. I guess the chefs in Russia aim to please because on all menus you could find the house specialties and then one of every other type of food you can imagine, from chicken parmesan to sushi. I tried the beef stroganoff at Krockodil and it was like my mother used to make from a recipe she stole from my Lithuanian grandmother.

Another spot worth checking out was The Idiot. A very cool, hip hangout where you can grab snacks while lounging on estate furniture. The place is designed to feel like an old, welcoming home and the menu reflects the snarky nature of the restaurant/bar. You can order a “Gentlemen’s Kit,” which is a plate of pickled everything, cured beef, a bottle of vodka and includes a trip to the hospital if you need it. They also offer a challenge for a free dinner to anyone who can drink 40 thimbles of vodka in 30 minutes.

The Idiot

If you are like us and take pride in finding that bar down an alley, through a store, up a fire escape and behind a curtain than you should seek out Fish Fabrique. Its an intimate cafe and live music club secretly located inside an Art Center that itself is a labyrinth of doors and outdoor alleys. It’s a good place for a beer and a game of foozeball and to us felt like the most amazing place in the whole city because it was so hard to find. Also located in the Art Center is the Office of the John Lennon Temple of Love, Peace and Music – a sight you don’t see everyday.

Fish Fabrique

That’s it for now but more to come soon on my travels to Russia and Scandinavia. Below you can find a recipe for Pelmeni I found online. Give it a try and let me know how it comes out. Giddy Up!

The Shep

PELMENI

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups flour
2 eggs
1/2 cup water
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 lb. ground beef
1/2 lb. ground pork
2 medium onions, finely chopped
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. black pepper
garlic to taste

Method:
To make the dough, combine the flour, eggs, water and 1/2 tsp. salt. Knead mixture. Let rest for 30 minutes. Mix the ground beef, ground pork, onions, 1 tsp. salt, pepper and garlic together. Cut the dough into three equally sized pieces and roll each one into a cylinder the diameter of a finger. Cut each cylinder into pieces the size of a walnut, then roll each piece into a very thin flat cake with a diameter of about 2 inches. Put some of the ground meat mixture in the center of each flat cake (quite a lot, but not so much that you can’t then seal up the dough). Then fold the dough in half and join up the edges to seal them. Pinch the corners together: you should now have a ravioli-shaped “flying saucer.”

Boil the pelmeni in salted water for seven minutes, or until they float to the surface. Serve them in soup plates with sour cream or in broth.

The Shep is back! After a bit of a hiatus due to the busy holiday season I am online broadcasting live….well sort of. I’m in St. Petersburg.  The weather is wonderful…32 degrees most days with 4 hours of day light. Oh I meant to say I’m in St. Petersburg, Russia!!
I am getting settled in for 5 more days of exploration before moving on to Helsinki.
Food-wise Russia is awesome if you like potato pancakes, beets and anything pickled. Actually, St. Petersburg is a vegatarian’s dream as most menus we have run across have brilliant selections of veggie dishes.
The best meat dish I had was a meat dumpling called “pelneni” served with sour cream and another sauce that tasted much like Russian dressing.

It is a little difficult getting around as signs are hard to follow and very little English is spoken by anyone.

Some highlights were seeing the tomb of Peter the Great and the Church on Spilled Blood which is an arcitechtural marvel.

Other notable finds, Gin and tonic with grapefruit sold in cans at all stores and the fact that most restaurants have dance floors for when the mood strikes. And from what we can tell the mood strikes often.

More to come plus photos….

Da Sveedanya

The Shep

I mean its not even Thanksgiving and we already have our first disaster. I spent 45 minuts on the phone this afternoon trying to convince my folks and brother to take the train into New York, but they insisted on driving. They hit no traffic at all and just called to say they are outside of my apartment. Oddly excited, I went downstairs to help them carry some things up, but they were no where in sight. My mother, who was still on the line, asked how come I lived in an Amish neighborhood and that’s when I knew they were screwed!

That annoying Time Life operator voice in my father’s navigation system had delivered them to some other Broadway that happens to be in Queens.

Right now they are circling LaGuardia Airport. I can hear my father saying “he (meaning me) always has to shake things up. He always has to have things his way.”

Unreal.

Giddy Up!

The Shepherd had a brilliant thought this Thanksgiving — invite his family, his girlfriend’s family and some friends over to his 1000 square foot apartment, instead of retreating to the suburbs to a home with more than three rooms.

The pressure is exhausting! What do we cook, besides a bird…wait how do you cook a bird? What else do we make that will in some way recreate all the Thanksgiving tastes we have had over the years? How do I impress my mother who is as close to a culinary genius as they get?

To strain the nerves even more, my father, who must think New York is the only place crime and other bad things happen, has asked if we have an evacuation plan mapped out in case of a terrorist attack!? I also had a dream last night that our lousy “some assembly required” dining room table buckled under the weight of all the food during dinner and collapsed to the floor — setting off a chain reaction that also broke apart the bench, I constructed, that my mother, brother and sister-in-law had been sitting on.

Thankfully, I work at a place where tips for cooking and entertaining are abundant. I decided it would be fun for all of my readers, if I blogged in real time about all the disasters and injuries I will sustain over the next few days in an attempt to pull off my first ever Thanksgiving at a Small as Heck Apartment.

What I have Learned So Far….

1. Try to get as much done in advance as possible. Everyone keeps telling me that you should prep everything and save that hour before dinner for heating things back up. So I made vanilla bean ice cream last night for the pies. Actually, I made it twice — the first time I misread the recipe and used six eggs instead of six egg yokes and the whole batch tasted like an omelet.

2. Write out a menu for all your guests to see, this way at dinner no one can say “what no peas?” or “where’s the pineapple upside down cake?”

Here is our menu: (or what I call “Biting Off More Than We Can Chew”)

3. Rob a liquor store….or own one like my mother-in-law to be. The more alcohol consumed the less your guests will realize that your turkey is dry as hell, your biscuits are of the Pillsbury variety and your corn is creamed — but not on purpose. It will also allow for everyone to gaze out the windows and see a wonderful Fall scene complete with little kids in the yard playing with leaves and tossing the pigskin around — instead of what’s actually there — a big, ugly gray building with other drunk people starring back at you!

I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving and if you find yourself in an political argument with your in-laws or lying on the couch with your belt loose and nauseous, log onto this site and get updated on the huge mess I have created at my home.

Giddy Up!

After visiting Costa Rica in the winter of 2006 I think I can surf. I took a single lesson while I was there.  I was able to stand up and ride some waves all the way into the shore and now I tell people I surf. I have never claimed to be Kelly Slater, but when you tell people you surf they instantly envision you actually participating in the action of surfing….and lets be clear upfront, that’s not what I do!

 I try…hard, but mostly I swallow a lot of salt water.

I recently strapped on a wetsuit (I put it on backwards much to the amusement of real surfers) and headed out to Long Beach, NY.  It was the day after a major tropical storm passed close enough to the East coast to cause swells reaching 6 to 8 feet.

I don’t need to bore you with details.  In short, Mother Nature kicked my untrained butt all over her ocean, only to allow me access to three or four beginner waves that permitted me to at least comment to friends, on the way home, ‘you should of seen me ride a few of those breaks!’

Thankfully, my friends were out riding real waves and didn’t have time to watch me fail miserably at this sport. Since they could not disprove the accuracy of my claims, I was able to participate in thier post surfing tradition: eating tons of fried stuff at Bigelow’s Clam Shackin Rockville Center, NY.

Growing up in New England I have spent plenty of summers in places like Cape Cod, Fire Island and Newport, RI.  I can honestly say Bigelow’s, located on the side of a major road instead of a waterway, had some of the best clam strips, fried shrimp and lobster bisque I have had south of Maine. 

All dishes are served with fresh cole slaw, hot and chunky marinara sauce and tarter.  Since 1939, Bigelow’s has existed as a simple horseshoe counter that funnels locals in and out — some opting to pull up a stool and a red, white and blue Budweiser, but mostly folks grab heaping amounts of fried Ipswich clams bellies to go.

If you happen to find yourself in need of a feeling of summer in the middle of winter, Bigelow’s will send your mind to some beach town complete with the smell of sea and the sound of seagulls chripping away for you to drop just a liitle morsel in the sand. 

I also totally recommed it for anyone on the verge of midlife crisis trying to test their athletic abilities in 50 degree water, in a storm, on a slick fiberglass board.    

Giddy Up! 

Its hard writing a blog, especially when its not your only job.  So in an effort to write more frequently and to not just write about New York, where I spend most of my time, I have decided to write an weekly installment I’m calling (until I think of something better) ”The Tempting Plate.” 

This weekly diary will be a description of the best dish I have had all week and when the restaurant or chef allows me to, I will also post the recipe of said dish.  Hopefully, this will expand my readership from beyond my mother and college journalism professor. 

So check out this week’s “Tempting Plate” that really was a culinary kick in the taste-buds.

What is it you ask?  God only knows what its called, but this Shepherd has never had anything like it before.  Its braised short ribs in a sort of black eyed pea clear soup topped with a peppered sunny side-up egg and served with garlic butter and gruyere cheese toast.  When my eye hit “braised” on the menu I was sold, but this dish was like buying a Lamborghini and having the car salesman throw in a Porsche, BMW and a week at a villa in Tuscany.

The real magic happens when you break that egg apart and let all the flavors ooze together.  Putting aside table manners, I continually built little egg, rib and toast sandwich bites, which made me look very classless, but what the hell.  

Anyway, this dish can be found at Marlow & Sons in Williamsburgh, Brooklyn — a wonderful little bustling restaurant hidden in back of a market/bakery, of the same name, that sells small production cheeses, sweets, meats, honey and other condiments. 

If anyone out there knows how to make this dish, please, I beg you, submit the recipe here and I will send you a personalized signed Rachael cookbook.

See you next week for the second installment of “The Tempting Plate.”

Giddy Up!

Besides putting out a fantastic product that keeps getting better with age, Esquire magazine throws fantastic parties that I have had the opportunity to attend and/or crash for the past few years.

Once a year, the magazine out does even itself when they open the “Esquire House.” This basically means they rent the most insane home or apartment (sometimes they do it in Los Angeles), commission the best designers to make the place look amazing, fill it with the newest products and the most advanced gadgets and then invite hundreds of their closest friends over to play with their toys and eat and drink free food and booze. If you didn’t love Esquire for things like naming Charlize Theron the “Sexiest Woman Alive” you should applaud them for this noble concept in entertaining.

This year, Esquire rented a space in Harlem and dubbed it Esquire North. The Penthouse apartment is located at 111 Central Park North, situated right at the top of Central Park, which causes the $9 million pad to have some of the most stunning views this Shepherd has ever seen.

There are so many rooms in this place it took a few visits to see them all. There is the Kenneth Cole/Intel game room complete with full on interactive car racing games, the Louis Vutton master bedroom, the Versace living room, the Hugo Boss media room and the St. Pauli Girl bar that make up just a few of the more than 11 unique spots in this apartment. We haven’t even talked about the bathrooms!

Everyone’s favorite part of this experiment in indulgence is the three separate terrace spaces — one of which is complete with a outdoor fireplace.

The first party I attended was the “‘Reel’ Cops Salute Real Cops” bash that benefited the New York Police Foundation, which makes sure the men and women in blue have all the equipment, programs and research they need to effectively and safely do their job. The casts from every Law & Order showed up to make up the “reel” part of this party that included tons of amazing Hors D’oeuvres (filet mignons on toast, crab cakes, tomato basil paninis, ahi tuna and more) and plenty of Macallan scotch that was almost as old as The Shepherd.

Off duty Detective John Munch from The NYPD’s Special Victims Unit can be seen here at the St. Pauli’s Girl bar deciding what to have will munching on a parmesan breadstick.

The second event I attended was to celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Esquire Editor-in-Chief David Granger who was introduced by Bill Murray and serenaded by songstress Aimee Mann. In his comments to the crowd, Mr. Murray said “we all have one thing in common here, we are all drinking on someone else’s tab and from what I see no one is tipping their bartenders.”

You don’t have to tip me either, but if you do get a chance go buy an Esquire magazine so they keep making enough money to throw cool events I can go to.

Giddy Up!

A mad genius!!! I have long been a fan of his shows, but I just ate lunch, for the first time, at his restaurant Maze in the London Hotel, New York and I was simply blown away.

I knew he wouldn’t be on primetime TV screaming and yelling at other chef’s on his Kitchen Nightmares show unless his own home was in order. While we didn’t go into his kitchen, I can assure the 5 people who actually read my blog that it was tip top.

The rest of this blog is not for the faint of heart — so if big, inventive food scares you, please look away now.

I started with the hand dived sea scallops, roasted with spices, golden raisin purée and cauliflower beignets. The scallops were very firm and fit perfectly with the two sauces.

A colleague of mine who runs Rachael’s Yum-O! Organization had the white onion velouté with duck ragoût and shaved Pèrigord truffle — which is a fancy, creamy onion soup. It was extremely light and an upscale take on the more traditional French Onion soup.

Another colleague started with a salad of white asparagus, English peas, green beans, truffle dressing. She was quoted as saying it was “tasty,” — not one to mince words, so it must have been amazing!

For my main course I had the halibut with Iberian ham, asparagus, chorizo and mussel fricassée. That just sounds sick!! The ham served as crust to the top of the fish and it was served in a small puddle of brothy buttery sauce.

Others enjoyed the red wine braised shortribs with pomme puréeand spiced tomato relish as well as the Carnaroli risotto of wild mushroom with parmesan emulsion.

The most interesting dish was the glazed veal cheeks, whole grain mustard, sweetbreads and spätzle fricassée.

The staff was exceptional and extremely attentive, as you may imagine is demanded by their boss.

Gordon, you have ever right to tear other chef’s, cooks and even this lowly blogger apart, as your food is truly fantastic.

Giddy Up!