Be Right Back

No, I haven't fallen off the face of the planet. In fact, I'm in New York City -- the very center of the universe (at least according to a number of New Yorkers I know). 

We're spending a few days here on vacation before heading up to Boston for the 2012 Ancestral Health Symposium, which explains why I've gone radio silent for the past few days.

I'll be back to blogging soon, but in the meantime, you can check out Michelle's daily posts over at Nom Nom Paleo.

And yes, we're still on track for our 100-push-up challenge. (It's Day 47. Have you done your 47 push-ups today?)

What Does It Take To Turn the Heads of New Yorkers?

Another Reebok CrossFit video filmed in New York City:



I'm sure the handstand walk across the street turned some heads, but it looks like most New Yorkers didn't bat an eye when they passed elite CrossFitters doing kipping pullups on construction scaffolding or air squats on the sidewalk. (I liked watching them jump over each other -- it looked like fun -- but Manhattanites are used to seeing that sort of thing done with more panache.) Folks probably just assumed that these firebreathers were participating in an afternoon bootcamp exercise program. And who could blame them, when they're accustomed to encountering much more eye-popping spectacles around town?

Here are a few examples.

No Pants Subway Rides:



UFOs:



Grocery Store Musicals:



Flying People:



This Guy:



What CrossFit WOD do you think would stop New Yorkers in their tracks? My vote's for Amanda:

Empire State Building WOD

Where to next?

Anti-Obesity Housing

A new eight-story Bronx apartment complex called "The Melody" is about to open its doors this summer. And why do we care? Because it's the first co-op designed to discourage its residents from getting fat.

Among other things, "The Melody" offers:

• A gym on the first floor!
• Outdoor exercise equipment!
• "Inviting" stairways to encourage climbing!
• Motivational slogans and signs on the walls!
• A "slow-moving elevator" to discourage residents from riding it!

Here's why this is supremely dumb:

• By itself, exercise does nothing for weight loss. If you want people to lose fat, focus first on nutrition and sleep.

• Folks who want to live in an "anti-obesity" building probably don't need motivational posters to get them to exercise. They'd do it anyway.

• No one -- fat, skinny, or in-between -- wants to live in a building with a slow-moving elevator.

• There is no such thing as an "inviting" stairway -- not even for people who say they're interested in exercising. Case in point:

If I could design my own "anti-obesity" building, here's what I'd do:

• Lights out at sundown.
• Replace all desks with standing desks.
• Ban vending machines.
• Inspect incoming groceries and confiscate anything containing grains, seed oils, added sugar, etc.
• Free jerky.
• No stairs or elevators -- just ladders and slides.

Stalking the Wily Vegans of Park Slope

This just about sums it up -- except that those vegans look suspiciously healthy...

(Click for higher resolution)

[Source]

Greatest Hits

To kick off the weekend, check out this little video. It features a bunch of stuff we know and love: Paleo eating, Vibram FiveFingers, John Durant, MovNat, and Tough Mudder.

I Wish Cavemen Ate Pizza

Speaking of getting fat, there's something about rainy days that makes me miss pizza. You know I love the stuff like nobody's business. Paleo or no, I'm sure the Clan of the Cave Bear would have been all over a hot slice of meaty/cheesy pie if they'd only figured out how to build an oven. And grow, harvest and process wheat. And make cheese.

Even if pizza's off my menu these days, I can still linger over my pizza-related memories, right? Today's gray weather made me dig up something I wrote about a trip to Brooklyn's Di Fara Pizza last year:

Today was wet and drizzly, and it took me almost an hour to get from the Lower East Side to the pizza mecca that is Di Fara. This unassuming, age-worn pizzeria sits just outside the grafitti-splashed Avenue J station in Brooklyn -- and despite its peeling brown paint and weathered, washed-out signage, the wafting smell of pizza goodness can't be resisted. Nor, for that matter, can its reputation as one of the best pizzerias in the country.

As expected, Domenico De Marco -- the maestro -- was personally, patiently and carefully hand-crafting each pizza one by one, just as he's done for four decades. He never looked up, keeping his head down and focused on his craft while his daughter Margaret took orders at the counter (and occasionally hand-cranked the cheese grater). The three small tables in the cramped space were already occupied, and I could see that there were lots of pies on the list that hadn't yet been made, so I ended up ordering a couple of slices of the regular pie rather than waiting.

They were delicious and hot -- fresh from the gas-fired oven. (Who says you need a wood-burning oven to make fantastic pizza?) I can't say enough about the wafer-thin crust -- the texture was perfectly charred and crisp. The simple toppings of tomato sauce, cheese and basil leaves were fresh and tasty, and a glistening sheen of olive oil added to the mouth-filling flavor of the slices I devoured.

Although the pizzas are pricey even for New York (e.g., $4 per slice, $20 for a regular pie, $25 for a "square" pie baked in a well-seasoned pan, $28 for the Di Fara special pie with mushrooms, peppers, sausage and onions), the pizza here is worth every penny (as well as an interminable subway ride from Manhattan).

Plus, who can resist the allure of a chef so dedicated and passionate about his cooking that he insists on personally making every single item that comes out of his kitchen?

I'm not a big believer in cheat meals, but it doesn't help that I just stumbled upon this 15-minute documentary about Domenico De Marco. Seriously: If you've ever considered yourself a pizza fan, you need to watch this.



Thankfully, I live three thousand miles from Brooklyn, or else I'd be hoofing it to Di Fara for lunch today.

More Eats: Momofuku Ko

I’m sorry if this is turning into a food blog, but I can’t help writing about the ridiculous meals I’ve been treated to by my wife these past few days. I came out to New York for work, but M’s transformed the trip into one long birthday celebration. (Lucky me!) Given that she’s gone hardcore paleo recently, I’m a little shocked that she’s been willing to splurge on so many cheat meals.

But I got to eat at Momofuku Ko last night, so who’s complaining?

Really -- all credit goes to M. The fact that we even landed reservations as some of these joints wouldn’t have been possible without her. Strange but true: M dials numbers and clicks buttons faster than anyone I know, which comes in handy when trying to secure un-get-able dinner reservations.

(M’s fast fingers have served her well: Starting in her teens, she won so many dial-in radio contests that she was blacklisted by San Francisco’s alt-rock station. But she kept at it for years. Even in the months after our first kid was born, she won concert tickets on two separate occasions -- to see Beck and Green Day.)

So despite: (1) Ko’s first-come-first-served online-only reservations system, (2) the crushing demand, and (3) the fact that there are only 12 seats in the joint, I wasn’t surprised when my wife got four of us into Ko on a Friday night.

I’m damned grateful. I don’t think I’ve ever had a high-end meal that’s been as creative and fun as the one I had at Ko.

More after the jump.

More Food Porn

Another half-assed attempt to stay paleo was derailed by another tasting menu -- this time, at Eleven Madison Park.

After feasting at Per Se last night, I was prepared to be a little underwhelmed at lunch today. Happily, I was not. The four-course tasting at Eleven Madison Park was flawlessly executed and the ingredients popped. I enjoyed every single item that came out of the kitchen.

The only minor glitch: At the start of the meal, our server asked us if we had any dietary restrictions. My cavewoman spouse hesitantly asked if we could go grain- and potato-free. "Not a problem!" exclaimed our waiter. "This is precisely why we don't specify any specific preparations on the menu -- we can be flexible and prepare the meal to your wishes." Excellent!

But then the amuse bouche arrived: Roasted potato tea with rosemary, sage and thyme, served alongside a potato crisp with dehydrated sour cream, creme fraiche and chive.

And then the waiter came back with bread.

But it was all wonderful, so we didn't care that the server didn't know the definition of "grains." Or "potatoes."

More after the jump...

Friday's Workout

Strength Skill:

The hotel gym has no pull-up bar, no rings, no barbells, no heavy weights. Just a bunch of elliptical machines, stationary bikes and treadmills, along with a few weight machines. Not good.

I ended up doing a bunch of handstand push-ups, some dumbbell bench presses (yes, it's been a while), and some side presses.

Metcon:



"Death by Burpees":

Start a timer and -- with a continuously running clock -- perform one burpee at the start of the first minute, two burpees at the start of the second, three burpees at the start of the third minute, and so on until you can't finish your set of burpees in a minute's time.

Result: I got about halfway through my fourteenth minute/round before time ran out and I collapsed in a sweaty puddle. The first ten rounds seemed remarkably easy, but I suddenly hit a wall in round 12, and quickly went downhill from there.

This was a gut-bustingly fun workout -- and desperately needed after last night's bacchanalia -- but I got some weird looks from the other people in the hotel gym.

Thursday's Workout

We walked around. A lot.

Eating Paleo in NYC: Shake Shack & Eataly

Today was devoted to stuffing my face.

I've been hankering for a burger at Shake Shack for a while now. And devouring burgers in the park at 8:30 a.m. California time seemed like an excellent way to kickstart a drizzly New York morning. By the way: Intermittent rain + 11:30 a.m. burgers = No lunchtime line at Shake Shack -- a true rarity.

In an attempt to stay Paleo (well, Paleo + Dairy), we got our Double ShackBurgers sans buns. (It's listed on the Shake Shack website, but the server nonetheless blinked in surprise when we placed our order.) Unlike In-N-Out's Protein Style Double-Doubles, the low-carb equivalent at Shake Shack doesn't come sheathed in lettuce; rather, a small 2-inch square of greens and sliced tomato sits atop the cheese and meat. Not a problem: We tore into 'em with plastic forks and knives.

I'm a devout fan of In-N-Out, but ShackBurger patties are definitely thicker, juicier and more tender. Our Doubles were perfectly seasoned and a little pink inside. I know there've been complaints of inconsistencies between Shake Shack locations, but we had zero complaints about the meat and cheese at the Shack in Madison Square Park. Believe the hype.

On another important measure, though, the ShackBurger loses out to In-N-Out: PRICE. A Double-Double at In-N-Out costs less than 3 bucks. At Shake Shack? $7.25. Plus a plane ticket from San Francisco to New York.

Our burgers constituted just half of our meal. We felt the need for vegetables, so we headed a block over to Eataly -- the ginormous new Mario Batali /Lidia & Joe Bastianich Italian food emporium.

Eataly reminds me of the vast food emporiums found in high-end department stores in Japan, only with nothin' but Italian food. The enormity of the place is a little staggering, and there's lots to be found in the nooks and crannies, like a fresh mozzarella bar, a Nancy Silverton-run bakery, a salumi counter (with salumi from Seattle's Salumi -- natch), and rows and rows of everything from dried pasta and canned sauce to fresh produce and grassfed dairy.

Our hunt for vegetable matter ended at the Le Verdure counter. We loved it. The service was attentive and efficient, and the food was simple and fresh. The price tag was high (fifty bucks for, essentially, two smallish plates of vegetables), but we're money-stupid. (Any recommendations for good money managers are appreciated.)

And the dishes we ordered were nothing short of amazing: Grilled Japanese eggplant with arugula and caper vinaigrette, and roasted porcini mushrooms with shaved, raw butternut squash, frisee, carmelized onions and aged balsamic. In particular, I could have eaten plate after plate of the raw butternut squash and porcinis.

And then, for dinner, we went to Per Se. Which was ridiculous. That meal deserves it own post, which I'll try to put up tomorrow.

Decisions, Decisions

When you just can't decide whether you want a burger or a pizza -- and you happen to be in New York City -- go get yourself a Burger King Pizza Burger.

Or better yet, just skip lunch altogether.

(Source: Serious Eats)

Pop Tarts or Porn?

Years ago, a buddy and I drove in roundabout fashion from Chicago to San Francisco, subsisting almost exclusively on rations of Twizzlers and Pop Tarts (purchased in bulk from the Costco in Schaumburg, Illinois). I'd never tried Pop Tarts before that trip, and haven't had one since, but pangs of nostalgia (and nausea) still hit me when I hear that a Pop Tarts restaurant has opened in Times Square.

The food offerings sound like they were harvested from the fever dreams of sugar-deranged first graders in diabetic shock:

The menu includes the Fluffer Butter, marshmallow spread sandwiched between two Pop-Tarts frosted fudge pastries; the Sticky Cinna Munchies, cinnamon rolls topped with cream-cheese icing and chunks of Pop-Tarts cinnamon-roll variety; and Ants on a Log, which is celery, peanut butter and chunks of the Wild Grape version. And then there’s the Pop-Tarts Sushi, three kinds of Pop-Tarts minced and then wrapped in a fruit roll-up. “We did an internal tasting here at the building, and it was the winner,” said Etienne Patout, senior director at the Pop-Tarts brand, part of the Kellogg Company.

Ironically, the Pop Tarts restaurant is located in the heart of the same city that led the push to curtail the use of trans fat and salt, and to force eateries to post calorie counts for customers to review (or, in most cases, ignore).

Wouldn't it be healthier -- and, frankly, less obscene -- to just bring back the porn shops to Times Square?

(Source: NYT, CBS News)