At Fairway, we get really excited about USDA Prime Meat. And rightly so. USDA Prime is the highest grade a cut of beef can receive. Only about 2% of meat in the United States is graded as USDA Prime.

Here’s how it works: customers at our grand opening enter the raffe. If you’re like Barbara, who lives near our Upper East Side Store, you might be the lucky winner of a whole gorgeous, massive hindquarter. Master butcher and meat rock star Ray Venezia custom-cuts the beautiful beef just how you like it.

“I never won anything in my life. ” Barbara said. Watching the whole giant thing get “cut up into all the pieces was so much fun!” Barbara and her husband live in a Manhattan apartment, and so the first thing she did was go out and buy a freezer. Nearly a year later, that freezer is still stocked with meat.

Barbara has been using the beef slowly but surely. “I make stews and roasts. I try new recipes all the time, I’m always experimenting. I made a great pot roast–easy and delicious. I bought the already-chopped onions from Fairway, pulled apart the meat and served on mashed potatoes.” Barbara loved it, and so did her company.

Jennie stays away from the big crowds of store openings, but she consented when her friend insisted she come along to see the new Fairway in Pelham Manor. “It was a good thing I braved the crowds,” she says. A few days later, she got the good news.

The butchers ”were so nice. They cut everything according to our preference, told us about the different cuts.” Jennie and her husband live alone, so she invited over her daughter, her three granddaughters, and a cast of friends and divided up the bounty.

Jennie is health-conscious, and so the hindquarter was a great win for her. This part of the beef contains a lot of the lean, good-for-you cuts, like the sirloin tip, top round, and flank steak. Jennie’s been cooking her meat up every which way…”grilled, broiled, roasted.”

With BBQ season upon us, these cuts are perfect for throwing on the grill. Effortless, fabulous summertime dinner. Or many, many, many dinners if you’re a lucky winner.

“It was really delcisious meat; the best meat,” Jennie says. “My husband was happy. And if he puts his stamp on it, it’s means something.”

Watch the whole process in action: Ray savvily breaking down a glorious hindquarter.

Hakata Tonton at Grove and 7th ave south.  Drop-dead fine; hard to get a table.  You will be the only gaijin in the joint.  No better Japanese food anywhere.  Their table hotplate-cooked Tonton Hotpot is so good that as soon as you have finished it off, the waitress brings a measure of rice to add to the broth left in the bottom of the pot, and then she smooshes it around to absorb all those flavors.  Very reasonable prices on sake, too. 

Wong on Cornelia; difficult to make up one’s mind, the menu is so compelling.  Wong is so fine it demands a return for some of the items you could not order at your first visit.  And I cannot wait to get back here.

Must-not-miss/must-get-to-soon:  Kinshop on 6th Ave; Redfarm at Hudson and Charles; Bear on 31st Ave in Astoria.

First was the sunny farmers’ market in my neighborhood, Charles Village. The streets were full of vendors selling jams and jellies, bright cherries and peaches in summertime, baskets of arugula and lush, leafy things, stalks of asparagus in spring, shiny eggplants and elephantine zucchini. There were always cheerful men playing guitars, shaking tambourines, singing.

But my little tummy was rumbling and I was foremost interested in breakfast, which was one of two things. The first was an elephant’s ear from the impossibly elegant Parisian woman who presided over a table of croissants, éclairs, and madeleines. The palmier was the size of my face and I held it in two hands, anticipating the joy in its flaky, buttery goodness.

The second was the savory option, which I began to crave as I got a bit older. The mushroom lady—whose table of oyster mushrooms, enokis, and hen of the woods would now give me goose bumps—set up a smoky grill on which she would sear meaty portabellas and warm up fresh pitas. The pita would get stuffed with the hot mushrooms, a handful of milky feta, greens, and a dousing of hot sauce. This is an awesome breakfast.

It was also fuel for the rest of the day. Next was the Near East Bakery, owned by Armenian friends of my father’s. I was a kid in a candy shop, only the candy was bins of pistachios, juicy figs, massive blocks of halvah, and barrels upon barrels of olives—and this was before grocery stores had such things (Fairway did, but I lived in Baltimore!).

Armenian soap operas played in the background as my mom and I loaded up on grape leaves, fragrant spices, and doughy breads stuffed with fava beans and sprinkled in za’atar. This would become my favorite weekday lunch. In the cafeteria, my friends would whip out PB&J and I would gleefully dig into my fava bean pie, laced with chilies.

Next was Mastellone’s, where we’d watch the owner’s mom make mozzarella behind the counter, her arms swinging as she pulled and pulled and molded the curds. She’d sometimes offer me a piece of the just-made, still-warm mozz. My mom would gather fresh lasagna noodles, good olive oil, San Marzano tomatoes, sausages, and big bunches of basil. I’d watch Mrs. Mastellone and her cheese, rapt with total awe.

That’s how I felt my first time in Fairway. There were all the sights, smells, and surprises of my childhood culinary Saturdays, the mountains of gleaming grapes, more cheeses than I knew what to do with (and I know my way around a few cheeses), sides of dry-aged beef, golden olive oils in lovely bottles. And even someone making fresh mozz(!), although not an Italian grandma. A food playground, all under one roof. 

Perhaps it is no surprise that when I asked my mom, “what do you want to do for mother’s day?” she answered, “Why don’t you have me over for dinner?”

So that’s what I’m going to do. In honor of my mom, who taught me that shopping, cooking, and breaking bread are opportunities for joy, I’m going to make a simple and joyful meal. I’m going to suck all the fun out of shopping, choosing the most beautiful veggies, perusing the olive oils that I now know so well.

I’ve planned out a menu, but knowing me and what I’ve learned from my mom, it’s subject to change. A beautiful stalk of purple asparagus or perfect scallops might strike: inspiration. And then I’ll load up on whatever moves me, and rework accordingly.

Dinner For Mom

Fallot Mustard and Rosemary-Crusted American Lamb Chops

Sauteed Wild Mushrooms with lots of garlic

Fennel and Celery Root Salad

And dessert…any suggestions?

Benny’s been working with coffee since the ripe old age of 13, when he pitched in on his neighbor’s coffee farm in the Dominican Republic. A few decades later, he’s scouting the world for the very best coffee, bringing it to to Fairway, and making sure it gets roasted impeccably to bring out full and nuanced flavor. Benny says it the best himself: 

So when a brand new cheese gets hatched, our ears perk up.

American cheeses are new by definition. We are teenage cheesemakers to Europe’s sage grownups—experimenting like crazy, discovering our identity.

Cheese heads have enormous respect for Laura Chenel, one of the first American artisan cheesemakers. The Sonoma, California goat cheese savant turned Americans on to the wonders of goat cheese, and paved the way for Americans to start making great small production, big hearted cheeses.

In the late 70’s, Lara Chenel was just a girl with some goats, hoping to supplement her waitressing tips with a little cheese business on the side. And so she took off to visit dairy scientist Jean-Claude Le Jaouen in France, who taught her enough that she could return to Sonoma and start crafting lovely, fluffy little pillows of fresh chevre.

Which is precisely what she did. And she was good at it. Soon Alice Waters-era Californians—and Alice Waters herself!—were buying her cheese in an excited flurry. The waitressing gig was forfeited, and Laura Chenel Chevre grew into a booming biz. Laura hired employees, purchased goats, land, and equipment. Hundreds of pounds of cheese turned into thousands, and then a million.

In 2006 Laura sold her goat cheese empire to the Rians Group, a French company who specializes in running small family dairies. Cue major stir! They might be a big company, but they believe in maintaining the integrity of little cheesemakers.

For a while, Fairway’s relationship with Laura Chenel went on hold. But Avanelle, our incredible cheese buyer, went to visit this year and was majorly impressed with the quality of cheeemaking, the passion, and the attention to detail. The cheese itself? Awesome! Once again Laura Chenel’s fabulous cheeses are gracing the shelves of Fairway, and we’re thrilled about that.

I love the sweet goat logs for slicing onto salads and serving atop baguettes with toasted pecans and some of our Super Premium Balsamic. We sell little jars of olive oil-marinated chevre, which make for easy and perfect cocktail friends all on their lonesome.

But my hands down  favorite–and a Fairway exclusive!–is Laura Chenel’s Melodie. It’s an American Original–not just a wannabe copy of a European cheese. It’s adolescent rebellion gone right. It’s what happens when a beloved California cheesemaker gets a visit from France.

It is indeed melodious–smooth and supple; lactic, creamy, just salty enough, The 3 pound wheel is coated in ash for a pretty grey and white rind, and develops some welcome funk with age (think 100 days). Still, it’s mild and friendly. A good cheese for newbies, and kids, and melting til fabulously gooey in a panini. Or serve after dinner, nestled with some soft-dried figs, and you will be the hostess with the mostess.

Can you imagine how many pancakes we ate this year in our quest for fluffy perfection?  Our launch couldn’t come fast enough.  Pitchers and catchers had already reported and we were in the final throws of March Madness.   I packed up my two junior taste testers, ages 12 and 15, and headed north to Vermont to watch the packing of our four new Fairway Pancakes: Classic, Buttermilk, Multigrain and Chocolate Chip.

Irene left her wicked mark on the beautiful state of Vermont a mere eight months ago. The kids and I had been up there visiting with dear friends on Labor Day weekend.  The destruction was absolutely incredible. Businesses and houses we had passed on our way up on Friday simply no longer existed by Monday.  Many of the roads we had travelled were gone, too.  What heartbreaking loss and devastation.

The resilience of the people of Vermont is something to be admired. Happily, on our March return, we noticed how much had been rebuilt and restored, although remains much more to do.  Packing our pancakes in Vermont was not only a good business decision- it became a deeper more meaningful social connection for us Fairway folks too.

Our pancakes are made in very small batches to ensure the integrity of the family recipe with the highest degree of care using all natural, kosher ingredients.   The quality translates to deliciousness.  The batter is simple to prepare and the pancakes deliver a true Vermont wholesomeness.

Mother Nature, ever mercurial, delivered a few random incredibly sunny, 75-degree days for our little pancake rendezvous.  With wonder I thought of the pile of Multigrain Silver Dollars on our plates that morning and how they had fast disappeared!  Marveling at the almost full moon at dusk as I lay on a hammock in Mid-March, I knew we had a hit on our hands.

We counted the days until the first shipment arrived with anticipation, and we proudly stacked displays of our new Fairway Pancakes high in prominent places in all of our stores.  Try as I might, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face each time I passed the mountainous display. Pancakes make people happy; pancakes make me happy.

I was dying to know how you would react to them so I put on my apron and joined our Rock Star Roadshow.  If you aren’t hip to it yet Fairway’s best kept (not so) secret is the Rock Star Demos.  Almost every Saturday our Longstanding Fairway Masters, and a cadre of Senior Groupies, travel from store to store and spend the day sampling, cooking, schmoozing and enjoying the engagement of being hands on.  Rock Star Day has developed a bit of a cult following; we may be having more fun with it than you!

People are lining up for our Silver Dollars.  The smell wafts insidiously right under your nose as you enter the store. I have been sampling the Classic and the Buttermilk for the past two weekends and the reactions are incredible!   The pancakes deliver.   Baseball and pancake season are both in full swing, sadly without our beloved Jorge. (Just sayin.)

BATTER UP – EAT UP – FAIRWAY  PANCAKES

We took a minute to pick the brain of Tony Maltese—the man behind our fresh-as-can-be seafood department—to find out why he’s so excited about local fish.

Tony is a life-long NYS DEC-licensed commercial fisherman and licensed Coast Guard Captain. Captain Tony has been a part of the Fairway Family since 2001, and it is his expertise, ingrained in him by years of hands-on experience, that makes our meticulous selection of seafood so sought after. Tony is up each morning before dawn, and off to the docks, where he selects the very finest goodies from the sea to showcase behind our fish counters.

Here’s why local seafood is worth seeking out, in Tony’s words:  The reason local fish are so much better? The freshness. The boats come in one day and the fish are on our stands the next day.

This is unique in the supermarket business. Most companies buy fish from a warehouse, and truck the fish to their stores. There is usually a delay in the process. They pay the price in freshness. We buy nothing through warehouses.

The coming months will bring many locally caught fish, including some caught by myself. We will have striped bass, bluefish, sea bass, porgys, flounder, tuna, mako, swordfish, sea scallops, and more all from local waters.

What makes me confident selling these fish is knowing exactly when and where they were caught. Just as important is knowing how they are handled as they make their way to our stores. I demand from our fishermen the very highest quality, which means carrying more ice than usual and not leaving the fish on deck for any length of time. They go immediately from the ocean into ice, and do not ever leave the ice. I know the difference. And the fishermen know that I know!

Here’s Tony, talking about why we have the freshest seafood in the world.

Me and My Friend Piave at the 74th Street Cheese Counter

I don’t miss working in restaurants too much. I certainly don’t miss arriving home with achy feet at 3 AM. But I do miss the opportunity to get to be part of culinary revelation—“I do like goat cheese!”—or “this polenta changed my life.” I got to orchestrate little moments of happiness. This made me happy.

When you sell a bottle of kickass Tuscan EVOO that tastes like funky olive juice, the gratification is delayed. Perhaps the customer will come back and rave about the stuff, which they’re now using to anoint every single morsel that comes from their kitchen. Maybe not. But you don’t share that moment with them, that heady first bite where they throw their head back in gustatory glee.

Which is why our Rock Stars Saturdays are so fun for me. (Rock Star Saturdays are when we flood our stores with food experts and demos. Fairway becomes a tasting playground!) I get to go back to my roots, which is feeding people fabulous cheese. I joyfully scoop oozing Langres onto a slice of still-warm baguette from our bakery. I get to dollop Raspberry Onion Belgian Belberry Confit on top and give this rocking bite to a lucky customer.

It’s why I love this biz. I love feeding people wonderful stuff. I love introducing them to new cheeses that might become regulars in their fridges, at their fetes, on their dinner tables. I love talking cheese with serious cheese buffs and cheese counter newbies.

Look how happy I am with that Piave. Piave does that to me. It’s a totally friendly, approachable cheese. It’s named after the river Piave, which flows from Mount Peralba in Val Visdende in the northernmost part of Veneto, Italy. The cheese is big and bold of full of almost parmesan-y oomph. Piave is all about balanced sweetness, pineapply and toasted almond flavors.

With age, it becomes saltier and drier and even better for shaving over salads, pasta, gnocchi, or soup. It’s always a perfect snacking cheese. I love it with the Belberry Apricot and Cumin Delice, but it’s also a spot-on match with our French soft-fried figs and a glass of juicy, big red wine.

I’m already pumped for our next Rock Stars. I’ll be at our Upper East Side store on 86^th Street store contentedly serving and talking cheese. And, you’ll get to taste our new line of fresh-baked cookies, fresh shrimp salad, an antipasti extravaganza, sweet melons, and a lot of other absurdly good stuff. Chime in if you have a good idea about what cheese I should sample on Saturday, and I hope to see you there.

WELEDA, probably pronounced ‘VAH-lay-duh’ by a German-speaking person, offers spritz deodorant, either wild rose or sage, in a glass bottle.  The scent of each will
transport you, and actually make you look forward to your morning and evening toilette.  This deodorant takes you out of town, and sometimes that’s exactly what we really want.

And if you must enquire, yes, they work just fine.

Weleda also offers SALT TOOTHPASTE two ways, and if you really want to alter your state of consciousness (we certainly do), you will jump all over these oddly shaped, decidedly un-American tube toothpastes.

We could go on about Weleda, but we shall choose instead to bask in the knowledge that if we think it, say it, write it, and then post it, you will treat the information like a purloined secret code to certain bliss.  Because it is often said that we do know of which we speak.

Our fine artisanal barrel-shipped vinegars made from sparkling cava, from Priorat red wines, from Catalan vermouth and moscatell wine.  Timeless. Barcelona.  Roman Tarragona.  Penedes and the Priorat – their lovely vistas and smashing red wines.  Vic and its pork products.  Garrotxa and its cheese.  Empuries and its Greek and Roman ruins.  La Costa Brava.  Gaudi and Dali.  The anchovies of Escala.  We could not care less about Ferran Adria, but that’s us.

So imagine my trepidation when this container of our literally brand-new ‘house’ Fairway extra-virgin un-filtered Catalan arbequina olive oil arrived.  Would it taste and smell as good as it did when I chose it?  Would the great Pere Mateo of Olis De Catalunya manage to pull this off at the price I demanded?  Am I going to be disappointed?

Imagine my elation upon having ripped open a case of the liter bottles, twisted off the cap, up-ended the bottle to my lips and allowed a rather huge glug to flood my palate.  Without even bothering to take a hard sniff at the oil before tasting it, I began to taste it.  It is a dream.  It tastes far better than I even remember the best arbequina olive oil of my life tasting.

And now that I have taken its fragrance measure, I can also report that it smells like some kind of flower blossom I cannot attach a name to.  Sort of like jasmine, but not.  The first flavor sensation is a sweetness, a vanilla sensation.  The second perception is an up-front bitterness that delights me like the smell of fine leather.  The third articulable sensation is one of intense nuttiness – almonds, green almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts – and butter, and of course olives.  This is definitive arbequina olive oil.  A long, pepperless, gentle finish, an olive oil with that suave sophistication that is the hallmark of arbequina olive oil.

I am elated.  Exuberant.  I cannot WAIT for you to taste it.  I should double the price on it right this minute.  We are GIVING this stuff away.