Of Kids, Tapas and A Long Beach Island Pearl: An Evening At Sweet Vidalia's

dining: it's all a blur

Another summer season, another reason to test out local Long Beach Island eats.

Last summer we managed to try out several local restaurants and this past week we came across some new ones. Sweet Vidalia's was the most memorable. I remember seeing it in passing last year but never got around to eating there. Thanks to C., it was one of our first experiments of the season. And how sweet it was!

This tapas restaurant has a menu bursting with one mouthwatering selection after another. Since we ordered a number of small plates for the table, we were able to sample several dishes. Each incredible bite had me yearning for another, which was difficult with Izzy trying to polish off everything in sight.

We clearly did not order enough for the table. Despite our server's clear warning to order at least 4 plates per person, we only ordered 11 dishes for the four of us. There were bacon wrapped dates, clams with chorizo, watermelon with fennel and mint, lamb chops, snails with puff pastry, Vidalia onion stuffed with lentil, short ribs (I must have then entire order for myself next time) and a never ending array of tender morsels.

Izzy joyously tucked into each dish, relishing every bite and as I watched him I realized that tapas might very well be the perfect way to introduce a young palate to a variety of flavors. The portions are small so everyone receives a forkful or two of a dish which is the point of the meal. Everyone is tasting and so a child could so easily get caught up in the camaraderie of it all, he/she might be more inclined to try new things.

Sweet Vidalia's 12th St. & Long Beach Blvd., Beach Haven 207-1200

Knocking The Wind From Izzy's Snails

Considering how nonchalant my child was about eating an entire pig's foot, it shouldn't be especially shocking to learn that he didn't bat an eyelash when sampling snails the other night, and proceeded to polish off almost the entire plate of those chewy slugs.

At the time we were dining with Grandpa Joe ( an unabashed snail fan) and C. who happily kept his distance from the dish. Since they were the only witnesses to this culinary milestone I couldn't wait to share it with others, especially his papa. I gushed over Izzy's gleeful eating experience and when finished, the reply I received left me dumbfounded.

"How do you know they weren't calves' lungs? You must have heard that the French snail population is scarce and many restaurants have been using substitutions. Apparently most people can't tell the difference between snails and calves' lungs since they have the same texture."

I had to question this esoteric tidbit. From where did he glean this information? What proof did he have? I resolved to research it for myself and found that my husband must have gained access to this antiquated news story, straight from the New York Times of 1908. Yes, a century ago, those French were scarfing down snails like there was no tomorrow, leaving a dearth of snails. Nothing left to do but make the old calves' lung substitutions.

Could it be that the very same act of culinary treachery is going on today? If you have any knowledge of this, please send it along. Until then I will still kvell over Izzy's first snail sampling.

Baker In The House: More Close Encounters Of The Bread Kind

I do like to cook and bake while on vacation, but not while I am visiting my dad. The cleanliness standards are too high. So much the better that C. is doing all of the hard work and I am a sous-chef, or merely a curious on-looker.

This guy is serious. He even brought along his own banetton, creating a need where never there was one. Soon I will own my own banetton. You can see why.

C. spent nearly the entire day glued to the house. From the kneading, shaping, rising and slashing, to the actual baking, he had little time left for much else. The piece de resistance did not emerge from the oven until quite late and was not ready for consumption until after 4 p.m.



Under strict orders from the baker, it could not be sliced until completely cooled, as this might compromise the shape. I like my bread warm but there was no arguing here.



Izzy had to wait quite patiently as we photographed the final product. He tried not to be grabby.



And it still wasn't ready. A close-up shot was required, so that all could admire the fine texture.

This French Sourdough Boule was certainly worth all of the effort, crusty on the outside, chewy, slightly sour. The clincher..C. has no recipe..only promises of method and ingredients along with vague amounts.

This doesn't mean we can't replicate the bread as I have one important clue: He likes Peter Reinhart's books.

Can't Butter It Fast Enough: Izzy Encounters Home-baked Artisanal Bread

Thanks to our resident bread baker C., who also happens to be my sister's adorable boyfriend.

Aside from his knack with pies, he has been stricken with a serious bread-baking bug. According to his account, he has baked hundreds of loaves in the past six months. I have to wonder how it is that I am just learning about this now, during bikini season..How unfortunate on the one hand, yet irresistible on the other.

Izzy and I have watched in fascination, as C., in a semi-mad scientist fashion, carefully tends his pet dough mixtures. From starter to poolish, they all seem to have a place in his bread universe.

Our first taste of all his labors occurred after a busy morning of miniature golfing and bikini shopping. We arrived home to find this fine-looking 100% whole wheat loaf cooling near the stove.

Even though we had just come from eating ice cream, Izzy still had room for bread (so did we all for that matter). So C. buttered up a few slices and Izzy couldn't stop. As soon as he finished one slice, he would quickly demand another.



I had to contain myself from doing the same, otherwise I might never fit into my new bikini. The worst part, or best depending upon how you look at, is that this bread baking obsession continues and we will be reaping the benefits for the next few days. Stay-tuned for tomorrow's French Sourdough and a photo of the baker.

Stopping For Blueberries Along The Way: Journey To Long Beach Island

Not quite a tradition yet but this is our second year taking Izzy to Long Beach Island. It is not that far away but seems an eternity for those of us without a vehicle. At least we had our friends L. and T. to pick us up at the train station and drive us the bulk of the journey. They always take the back roads and find side trips to add to the scenic journey.

Yesterday, as we wound our way past horses and pick-your-own stands, L. asked, "Would you like to stop at Emery's and go blueberry picking?"

Emery's?? Could this be the same Emery's that my friend A. told me about.. "UH.......YES.. " I would have to be insane to turn down that offer.

I had no idea this place was on the way to the beach. What a wonderful coincidence since my friend A. had promised to take me for my birthday and it hadn't worked out.

As wee pulled up and emerged to stretch our legs, we were met by the intoxicating aroma of sweetened blueberries wafting out of the market building. Inside, the market was exploding with all things blueberry. There were all manner of pies, doughnuts, jams, syrups and of course fresh berries. Plenty of other things as well, too numerous to mention.

Aside from the market, there were a couple of goats to pet and blueberries ripe for the picking, not necessarily enough activity to merit a special trip from afar but definitely a fruitful side-trip.

Apparently my friends L. and T. have been stopping there for years picking up pies along the way. All we bought were berries and jam since I had heard tell that my sister's boyfriend C. was having the baking bug and all sorts of fabulous desserts were on offer there.

He ended up using the blueberries I bought to make this fabulous-looking lattice top Blueberry-Strawberry pie.

Blackberries and Raspberries In Hamilton Park: The Market Comes Alive

This past Wednesday the Hamilton Park Farmers' Market was bursting with summer and fine food. Stony Hill Farm and Upper Meadows Farm brought along a veritable fruit cornucopia, including blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, sugar plums, watermelons, cantaloupes, and two varieties of peaches.

The two new farm vendors are more than making up for the disappointment of last year's market. Upper Meadows Farm not only provides unusual produce but they also have a small selection of grass-fed beef and other specialty items available. Hoboken Farms has returned with their great selection of frozen prepared foods (about which I hear many good things, I just don't buy that type of stuff), breads and cheese. The cookie baker, pickle vendor and jewelry stand only add to the allure.

This local market (or your own) is a great place to get your kids excited about summer produce. Izzy couldn't contain himself and was immediately begging for a fix of blueberry donuts and a pint of blackberries. He loves perusing the offerings and figuring out what we might buy and of course I do too.

Grass-Fed Beef: A Huge Sigh Of Relief

Our last experience with grass-fed beef left me somewhat troubled. There I sat, a huge proponent of grass-fed beef and yet I could barely finish one measly slider. I hated to admit it but it simply tasted too funky. Was it that I simply disliked the flavor or perhaps it was just that particular batch? Fingers were crossed for the latter.

In search of different sources of grass-fed beef, I encountered a neighbor, Y., who makes biannual trips to Sap Bush Hollow Farm in upstate New York. There she is able to satisfy all of her meat cravings and has been known to purchase $700 worth of meat at a time. Clearly this woman knows her cows (and her pigs).

When she informed me that she would be embarking upon one of her meat-buying trips to the farm, I jumped at the chance to get in on the action. I requested a couple of pounds of ground beef and a steak or two and she kindly obliged.

When I went to pick up the goods at her place, I even got a sneak peek of her dedicated meat freezer, where pounds of meat were stored. I felt like I was at a private market. The beef was $6.50 a pound and the steak was considerably more. Worth the price? I would soon find out.

After reading about the burgers in Paris, and hearing about J's evening of slider heaven (with grass-fed beef from yet another intriguing source) I had a craving for sliders. I couldn't wait to find out how this beef measured up.

Right away I noticed a difference. Raw from the package, it had a pleasing, meaty aroma rather than a funky smell. It was rosy pink in color with slightly darker discolorations which is normal.

I shaped several sliders from one pound of beef and grilled them for about 7 minutes. They were served medium, delicately pink on the inside. Izzy ate his while humming and giggling "trash fed beef" all the while.

The verdict: These sliders were far superior to my last batch, giving me renewed faith in all things grass-fed.