Archive | March, 2008

Buon Giornio!

28 Mar

Well, hello there!

San Gemini Gato

We’re back, and jet lagged to beat the band, and it looks like Fred failed to set paw to keyboard while I was gone.  Many apologies! I guess we’ve all learned an important lesson; never trust your guest blogging to a tomcat!

I’ve got tons of stories and lots of pictures, so check back early next week for all the details.



Wally’s Favorites

19 Mar

Oh, hi, it’s me Wally again.

That tree was bothering you, right? I knew it.

Wally Vs. The Tree

As you can tell, our summer trips to the Adirondacks make me very happy. I love getting to play in the water and ride in the boat and have people play fetch with me all day long. I mean, what dog wouldn’t love that?

But you know what the best part of going to the ‘dacks is? Getting to eat everyone’s food. My mom can’t watch me all the time, so I get to eat lots of stuff I probably shouldn’t. One time, Annie made these really delicious little sausages called chevapchichi or something. She said she learned about them in Croatia. I don’t know where that is, but if all the food there is like that, I sure would like to go someday. Plus, I hear there’s a really cute girl dog there named Mimi.

Wally in the 'dacks

I also love hiking, and we sure do do a lot of that up north. I like chasing deer, and ducks, and rabbits, and, well, anything! Annie keeps telling me about this amazing place in Brooklyn where she lives called Prospect Park. She says there’s lots of ducks and kids to chase, and they even have an entire beach, just for dogs! Can you imagine? I sure can’t. That’s something I’d need to see to believe.
Prospect Park

And just like you humans, I really love pork. One time, Annie made some pork at her mom’s house, and it was great, but I bet it wasn’t as great as this roast pork with biscuits. I was there when she called her mom and told her what she was making. I went and asked my mom if we could drive to her house, but Mom said it was too far away, so all I could do was look at the pictures on the internet.

So, if you have a dog in your house that loves pork, too, you should make this for them and then let me know how it was. I bet your dog would be really happy. And if you have leftovers, I always accept doggie bags!

Mmmm... Pork

So, I hope you enjoyed my post. It took a long time for me to type. I have really big paws, so it was really hard! But don’t worry, Annie will be back soon, along with my mom, dad and little brother. I hope they bring me some cool Italian dog treats. I earned them!

Wally & Fred

13 Mar

Oh. Hi!


I’m Wally. I’m Annie’s dog-nephew (I can call her Annie because we’re “related,” but I wouldn’t try it if I were you). My people; mom, dad and brother Little J, are off traveling with Annie’s mom and stepdad and the rest of the family. They’re hopefully already in Italy, where Annie and Isaac will be joining them by the end of the week.

And yep, you got it. They’ve left me and my fluffy dog-sister Ida May behind at home. It’s a dog’s life.

And you know me.


I’m the very famous Fred. I’ve been left behind as well. But unlike Wally, I’m fine with that. Don’t get me wrong, I love traveling… From house to house! A little tinned tuna here, a scritch behind the ear there, a bowl of milk down the block. If I can’t get there under the power of my own four feet, I’m not interested.

But enough about me, this post is all about you. Ann’s worried you’ll be bored while we’re gone, so Wally and I are here to save the day! We’ll be keeping you company while the people are off gallivanting around the Umbrian countryside.

We’ll share some of our favorite posts and places and pictures with you for the next two weeks. I know you’ll enjoy our insight, but old fuzz face up there’s not so sure. He’s worried you’ll be bored. Ah, dogs… So simple, so vacuous, so incapable of independent thoughts.


I take offense at that Fred! Eh, who am I kidding… It’s time for a nap.

See you in a few days!


4 Mar

I love eating in. And if you’re here, you probably like eating in, too.

West Village Reflection

But, I really only like eating dinner in. I’m not one of those people that enjoys rolling out of bed and brewing a pot of coffee while poaching eggs and toasting bread. Nope. And I’m not into crafting composed salads and delicate sandwiches for lunch either. Uhuh. That, my friends, is why god created restaurants!

The weekends are our time to explore all the culinary goodness New York City has to offer. Recently I’ve lunched on a Hangtown Fry at Stone Park Cafe, the most succulent and tender ginger-slicked cuttlefish at Lucky Eight, cheese bureks at Djerdan, thin, pliable waffles with salty butter and lingonberry jelly at Nordic Delicacies, kimchi-filled dumplings at Mandoo Bar, avgolemono and halloumi, cucumber soup and sauerkraut salad and mahogany-lacquered squid tentacles.

The Other Side, Flatiron Building

Our weekend lunches are often the highlight of my week. We’ll plan entire outings around them. But this world of food at our feet can sometimes cause trouble.

It is exceedingly rare that we both wake up craving the same food. And so a gentle negotiation must take place. Sometimes feelings get hurt or toes get stepped on, but the belly always wins, because no matter who’s cuisine reigns supreme, lunch is always delicious.

Midtown Apartment Building

And so, on Sunday, when I woke up with a serious culinary itch that needed scratching, it was nice to realize that very little cajoling would be necessary to get Isaac to accompany me to Miriam in Park Slope for crispy dough, shakshuka and labneh. It must have been this ridiculous, hilarious short film full of silly songs about hummus we watched the night before that put the idea in my head. Israeli food is so good.

The problem is, it seems that all of Brooklyn has come to this conclusion as well. The place was packed. You couldn’t have wedged another body or Bugaboo in there. I was gutted. My head was stuffy and I had acquired a wicked, hacking cough somewhere and all I could think about was their addictive, mysteriously green harissa. But it was obvious it wasn’t meant to be. So we walked out, sadly, and wandered down the block for seriously mediocre “Mexican” food.

The UN

But all was not lost. After a stop at Bierkraft for cheese and beer, we went home, where Isaac made chicken stock from the chicken carcass I had pot-roasted the night before while I convalesced on the couch. He had gone to the store and picked up jalapenos, cilantro and limes. He was planning to use them to flavor the strained stock to make a Mexican chicken soup.

But, that’s what I’d had for lunch. Granted, it was impressively mediocre, but still, I was craving something with intense flavors, so I suggested he use them to make a bastardized pistou. That way we could each flavor our bowl to an appropriate degree and the flavors would be fresh and punchy.

MexiMoroccan Chicken Soup

So he did, and it was wonderful; a spicy, tart, zingy cross between salsa verde and Miriam’s fiery harissa. It was just what the doctor ordered and completely erased our unfortunate lunch from my memory.

There’s a multitude of reasons I prefer eating dinner at home. No need to make reservations, no waiting for an overbooked table at an overcrowded bar, no need to listen to another person’s conversation, no waitrons rushing dessert, but most importantly there’s the chance to make unintended culinary discoveries.

MexiMoroccan Chicken Soup

Oh, and the wine is cheaper.

Head below the jump for the recipe for Isaac’s MexiMoroccan Chicken Soup and a bit about Pot-Roasted Chicken.

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