Reason for Not Eating Out in New York #10: Oh Foraging You May Go

dandelion greens, wood sorrel and second-year burdock stem in a soy vinaigrette made with wild garlic and hedge mustard, all foraged from Prospect Park (except liquids) The food of this city is bountiful. It's brimming with so much, and in such great variety, that you will never be keep up with it all, no matter how addicted you are to Eater. Think I'm just talking about restaurants and specialty shops? Try its wildlife sometime. It's fabulous. This weekend I attended not one but two foraging tours of Prospect Park: one led by "Wildman" Steve Brill and one by Tim Vireo Keating, director of Rainforest Relief and forager of 30 years. I can't say this is normal for a single weekend, since Tim Keating's tour was an infrequent event organized by the Wetlands Activism Collective -- but Wildman gives regular tours all throughout the tri-state area. Prospect Park in Brooklyn is definitely one of my closest and largest parks, and now it's also one of my closest and largest groceries.

Cherry Rhubarb Pie

Is there anything you can do with rhubarbs except make pies and jams and jellies, often in combination with a sweet red fruit? The world may never know. I'm not in any mood to find out myself, because before this I was a virgin to making the classic rhubarb pie. Okay, maybe I still am, since I chose cherries as its pie partner. They just looked so fresh and plump and made me want to buy more than I could eat. While strawberry is the rhubarb's claim to duo fame, I never quite liked how strawberries cook up: the sad, sagged, muted pink slivers make the fruit's seeds stand out so, and while still delicious the texture is not one of my favorites. Rhubarb mating season has begun.

Sandwich of the Moment

open face: roasted red pepper, basil and swiss cheese tops a homemade no-knead slice of bread I can't express enough what a good grilled sandwich-making bread the No-Knead Bread recipe makes. It's just meant to be: the perfect crackling, lacy froth of bubbles around the bread's crust that crisp up to a delicate network of texture, the chewy, slightly moist and yeasty taste of the bread's core that perfectly soaks up a sandwich's flavors.

Chicken Fajitas with Jalapeno-Mayonnaise Sauce & Pico de Gallo

There's always those nights when I'm craving something that feels like it's from a greasy take-out restaurant. My creations never, thankfully, end up quite as greasy, and I hope it stays that way. I'm not sure that I would even know how to make food as greasy as some restaurants do -- is it not trimming globs of fat from meat? Cooking in copious amounts of oil oil slathering butter and mayonnaise from a greasy wand with reckless abandon, like those guys at bagel places when you don't ask them to "lightly" butter your bagel? Whatever it is, I don't need to know the secret.

Lychee Sorbet with Mint

Bartenders all over the city have been loving the lychee, so why can't I? Especially in the summer months, when cool, juicy and sweet flavors rule. And especially when Sugar High Friday, the dessert food-blogging event created by The Domestic Goddess, is calling this month's challenge theme "Shades of White", hosted by Seven Spoons. I'm not sure exactly what shade of white the lychee is. It begins much more white fresh than it looks canned, which is a slight shell-pink or peach hue.

Chickpea & Roasted Red Pepper Penne

I can't find anything bad to say about this pantry meal. I made it one night accidentally, when I was craving a light pasta dish with maybe a little sundried tomato and some fresh artichoke, neither of which my local Associated Market had. It was getting late, and I didn't feel up for walking much farther than a block. It had just begun to rain. So dismayed and with lowered expectations as I was, I wandered into my corner bodega and picked out one can and one jar from its shelves. (The very nice couple who own the store, and greet me as their neighbor, must be becoming accustomed to this habit of mine, roaming around their tiny aisles in indecision.) As luck would have it, a better fate had been planned for my dinner, because I ended up with a completely delicious and unexpectedly smoky dish in this chickpea and roasted red pepper combination.

Taiwanese Three Cup Chicken

If I had my way with space, I'd have three different types of basil growing in my front yard (okay, my apartment building's front patch of grass). This would have to include the ubiquitous Italian variety, with its shiny, fat teardrop-shaped leaves. As well as the purple basil which I've been eyeing and smelling at Farmer's Markets but have no idea what it tastes like (it smells like basil). And most direly, a Thai basil plant: a matte, darker green-leaved variety with perfectly jagged edges on its leaves like a serrated knife. Because its taste is so furtively distinct, a shade sweeter than the lone European basil I now have, with it I could command Thai dishes with more authenticity, and attempt to recreate some of my favorite Taiwanese dishes more properly. What a sweet dream... Back to the blog: I was going to provide a recipe for one of my all-time favorite dishes, the famous Three Cup Chicken. One of the crown gems of Taiwanese cuisine, it's a pungent dish that marries loud flavors in perfect harmony. What, you haven't heard of it? Ah, well. There's always a start. Contrary to popular belief, this dish is a quick braise, not a stew, and not a stir-fry. Its traditional recipe comprises a braise of one cup of soy sauce, one cup of sesame oil, and one cup of rice wine, hence the name "Three Cup Chicken" (san bei ji in Chinese). Next, the chicken is festooned with literally handfuls of garlic cloves, big strips of fresh ginger, and loads of fresh Thai basil. It's basically the best-tasting dish in the world.

Mussels for Mum

Moms love French food. Soufflés make her sparkle. Provençal sounds like a good name for a kid to her. Bistros are her preferred bar. The allure of this country's culinary je ne sais quois can might coincide with a vast generation clued in to its mysteries and virtues by a tall, warbly-voiced, and ever so ladylike American named Julia Child. Then again, my dad knows much more about The Way to Cook than my own mom, who's never dabbled in French cooking herself. Hopefully that makes it all the more enchanting to be served a plate of classic white wine steamed mussels for Mother's Day.

Spring Snap Risotto

No seasonal food taboos can get between me and my favorite Italian rice dish (are there any others?): risotto is delicious year-round. It simply absorbs the season into its gooey mass and holds it there snug like a mother kangaroo. Lemon? Sure. Crisp spring vegetables like sugar snap peas, juicy zucchini and fresh chopped scallions? Why not? Welcome to spring, risotto. You're looking green and well today.

Cinco de Mango Salad

As I was celebrating the shameless drinking holiday oft misunderstood as Mexico's Independence Day this weekend, I learned that a) Cinco de Mayo is not even terribly important in Mexico, and that b) it was mostly invented by American spring breakers crossing the border to get wasted, so says a friend who happens to be Mexican. So why is New York city, a far cry from Tijuana, also crazy for this holiday? Sure, there was a battle in Puebla, Mexico on that date. And, uh, a great one at that. A victory feast was probably eaten... cut to the chase -- let's barbecue! chicken and veggie shishs get fired up

Almond & Roasted Tomato Pesto Pasta

Two summers ago I tried to grow basil, parsley, dill and another herb I can no longer remember in small pots placed on my old apartment window ledge. They didn't make it very long. Some, which I had decided to plant from seeds, were never even born. The whole dirt-caked affair was so sorry that I refused owning any herbs, or plants for that matter, all last summer. And fall, winter, then spring. This summer, I'm turning over a new leaf though. My newly purchased miniature pot of basil is receiving sun, water, love and talking-to every day. It's no longer in my apartment either, and since I don't have any outdoor space or a window with any better light than before, I've stuck it between a row of pachysandra and neatly hedged stones in the front yard of my building. Only the tenant or mailman looking closely for it would notice the exotic, teardrop-shaped leaves swathed in its terracotta planter. And once they do, I may end up sharing my basil with the rest of the neighborhood. But until then, no matter.

Jeffrey Steingarten ‘Admits to Enjoying’ My Bread

Excerpted from "Easy Riser," currently in newsstands the May 2007 issue of Vogue: "... most contestants at the bake-off at the Brooklyn Kitchen flavored their breads heavily; I'll admit to enjoying one made with cracked pepper and potato water... " That would be mine! Wow -- I feel incredible. (Does my hair look okay?)