An item back from the archives for me lately is the baked mac and cheese at the Brooklyn Diner. If you have never had the dish there, don't be deceived. We're not talking fried mac 'n cheese blobs; we're not even talking a proper mac 'n cheese exactly. This dish is Brooklyn Diner's take on the famous tagliarini con prosciutti al forno, as served at the Cipriani and Harry's Bar in Venice. Cipriani does it here in NY, too, of course--but I would have to call theirs a bit of a translation as well. I remember the first time I bit into the dish at Harry's Bar (It was before the bite that I truly remember most--the way my fork had to break the burnt, crispy, covering-the-whole-top-of-the-thing, crust of cheese). It was heaven. Now Brooklyn Diner's version doesn't compare to Cipriani's in Venice--but whose would?. Theirs has too much cheesy, creamy sauce--it's true. The tagliarini can be a tad overcooked. The prosciutto, but of course, is nowhere near as nutty-good nor as plentiful. And the crust does not typically develop the same amount of burn. But it is good. Delicious, really. If I had never received the original blessing, I'm sure I would rate this even higher. All that said, this version is still deeply satisfying and the crust is still a sort of thrilling thing to contend with.
Ok, can we take a little trip back to my mother's kitchen? Alright, let me get this said--hers was not a horn of plenty kind of kitchen, not a place of deeply delicious memory. It will not become a theme of this column. But honor where honor is due. The old broad could make a serious matzoh brei! She knew to soak the matzo until it was feeble. She knew that the brei should cohere, that it should be at least a little, but not too very, fluffy; she knew well the main Jewish commandment--make it seriously well-done. My mother closed the kitchen years ago; I don't think her Florida home has ever been used for actual cooking. But, alas, the Cafe Edison makes a matzo brei to compete with Mom's. It may even be better. They do under-salt the thing, and it is much better to salt it before it's done, but--you can't have everything. It is a marvel though--a combination of standard with german-type pancake omelet. It has very real architecture, not so dissimilar to a frisbee. And it will take you back to the days when there were more than the maybe three places that even still have it on the menu--when the robust flavors and rib-sticking goodness of a matzo brei were standard New York Jewish fare.
Back from the itunes library and on to my current playlist is John's Pizza's incredibly yummy sausage rolls. Didn't even know John's had such a thing? Well, that's because they don't--not, at least, at their original location on Bleecker they don't. But they do at other locations, including--lucky for us--44th Street, hard by the St. James. These are precious little pizza-dough thingys with cheese, and rolled with what I can only say is very good sausage indeed. Whenever I remember to remember them, I am always so glad I did. You can order them with a side of pizza sauce if you like, but I always go for the straight-up experience--better to take in their utter sausageness. And I like that they're grabbable in no time. Go have an order, let me know what you think.
Last, there is a very serious contender for best dish in the entire Broadway area. The spinach lasagne at Insiemme stands, I think, as New York's current best lasagne. I say this: it is entirely as good as any I have had in Italy, better than most. They make it with a subtle, lighter than you expect, but still robust, bolognese. They melt in the cheese and add the bechamel, to its many-layered goodness, with the calculation of the oldest, most revered, artisanal, lasagne scoula. It is a thing of many splendors. The lightness of texture while keeping along the razor's edge of al dente is a marvel. If Insiemme weren't as fancy feeling as it is, and the bar as intimate as it is with only four seats or so, I would eat this lasagne very frequently. Very very frequently.
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