Valentines Day Dinner at Hyatt Hyderabad Gachibowli

Valentines Day Dinner at Hyatt Hyderabad Gachibowli

Valentine’s Day Dinner at Hyatt Hyderabad Gachibowli
Discover our finest choices for you to make your Valentine’s a memorable one! Have a Valentine filled with love food and wine, on the 14th Feb with Serenades, Aphrodisiac food and Great Décor. Spend your time with your partner, your family and your closed ones for it’s your valentine, It’s your story. Have a Multi Cuisine delight with the choicest of delicacies Venue: Collage Price: INR 3600AI per couple
Have the best of Indian Regional favourite at Deori along with your loved ones Venue: Deori Price: INR 4000AI per couple
Enjoy dining “Under the Night Sky” with a selection of a 5 course menu and two glasses of complimentary wine and a private gazebo. Price: 12000 AI for the Couple (No Kids allowed)
Enjoy the evening at the alfresco with a selection of Indian and Western Cuisine and two glasses of complimentary wine and a private gazebo. Price: 18000 AI for the Couple (No Kids allowed)
Dine beside the pool with a selection of Indian and Western Cuisine and two glasses of complimentary wine and a private gazebo. Price: 16000 AI for the Couple (No Kids allowed)
Enjoy an Exclusive dining near the pool lawn with a 7 course set menu per your request and a complimentary bottle of Champagne to raise the toast of Love.
Food Festival in Hyderabad
On 14th February 2019, Thursday
Timings : 7:00 PM to 11:00 PM
Venue : Hotel Hyatt Hyderabad Gachibowli,
For more details contact : 8886051177, 8886218855 Organizers Share
Visited 12 times, 12 Visits today

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Review: Bombay Express, Reloaded (Torquay)

Review: Bombay Express, Reloaded (Torquay) On By Clare In Torquay
We have written before about our love for Bombay Express but recently they’ve had a change of menu. This week we were invited to come and try the new menu, on the house, in exchange for a review. As I’ve never passed up a chance to give my opinion, or eat Indian food, we sat down with a basket of poppadoms and the new menu to check out what vegan treats we could stuff our face with.
The menu has had a complete overhaul turning Bombay Express from classic curry house to what they call ‘regional elevated cuisine.’ Previously Bombay Express had become known for its awesome vegan options and thankfully there is still plenty to eat on the new menu. It’s just a little more fancy.
To start with we ordered the Pav Bharjia. In its traditional form it’s one of my favourite dishes and the Bombay Express version did not disappoint. The vegetable curry has a wonderful depth of flavour. I could have probably done with twice as much bread to scoop it up with though.
Our other starter was another street food inspired treat; gol guppa. This was the highlight of what ended up being a really good meal. It’s a brilliant mix of tastes and textures and it’s so much fun to eat. We loved it so much we urged the table next to us to order it too. If you ever end up at Bombay Express you have to order it too.
For the main I ordered Dal Makhan. It’s choc-full of lentils and vegetables with a lovely smokiness. In there is aubergine, sweet potatoes, peppers and probably some things I didn’t identify.
Kate went for the South Indian Vegetable Curry because she’s obsessed with coconut milk. Although she was a fan of the sauce she did question the choice of vegetables. She said that rather than having peppers she would have enjoyed more potatoes. And that come to think of it, rather have potatoes than the cauliflower. I said she was coming across like someone obsessed with potatoes.
The curries were delicious but compared to the rest of the meal they weren’t quite as show-stopping. But we can’t talk about the mains without mentioning the naan bread. Yes, it’s vegan! We went for the garlic naan this time and it’s just gorgeous. I could happily eat basket upon basket of it should it be socially acceptable to eat nothing but naan bread.
Here we are, the end of the meal and what did we get? Chocolate samosas! Probably not one to eat on a first date, these tiny triangles of awesome are filled with delicious, delicious chocolate. You’ll probably end up licking your fingers with these, maybe even moaning, They’re incredible.
We really enjoyed trying the new menu. The food was creative, delicious and absolutely stunning. The gol guppa and chocolate samosas were particular highlights but the worst thing we could think to say about anything was ‘not as special but still great.’ We’ll be going back and we’ll continue to recommend Bombay Express as one of the vegan highlights in Torquay.
Once again, we were given a free meal in exchange for this review, but of course these are our honest opinions. You can find the Bombay Express menu here . Share this:

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Godrej Food Trends Report 2019

Hot News / Media | By Team Estrade Godrej Food Trends Report 2019 Grandma’s secret will now be a showstopper on your dining table, according to Godrej Food Trends Report 2019 Mr. Adi Godrej, Nadir Godrej and Tanya Godrej along with key members of food fraternity at the launch of Godrej Food Trends Report 2019 (1) This report has been curated by culinary expert Rushina Munshaw-Ghildiyal and features predictions made by thought leaders in the industry Mumbai, February 5, 2019: Godrej Group unveiled the Food Trends Report – 2019 at their annual brand agnostic lifestyle soiree – L’Affaire 2019 on Saturday, 02 February at The Trees, Vikhroli.Godrej Group chairman Adi Godrej , Godrej Agrovet chairman Nadir Godrej and Executive Director and Chief Brand Officer, Godrej Group Tanya Dubash unveiled the report along with Rushina Munshaw Ghildiyal , Chef Rakhee Vaswani , Chef Varun Inamdar , Chef Saransh Goila , Food Writer and Gourmet Consultant Nikhil Merchant , Food and Travel Author Kalyan Karmakar, Archaeologist and Culinary Anthropologist, Kurush Dalal and Business Head and Executive VP, Godrej Appliances Kamal Nandi . The report highlights significant trends that will impact everyone in the food space. The report not only covers food trends but also focuses on restaurant trends, trends in kitchen designs, beverage and desserts as well. With food patterns diversifying into multiple varieties of diets and meal plans, people are becoming increasingly conscious of what they stock in their kitchen. According to the Report, traditional recipes and convenience cooking will be a one of the most prominent trends. Not only are traditional recipes becoming the norm among those seeking comfort food, they are also showstoppers to serve guests at any occasion – be it your grandma’s signature dal or your family’s elaborate biryani. Speaking about the report, Sujit Patil, VP & Head Corporate Brand and Communications Godrej Industries Limited & Associate Companies, said , “The Godrej Group is well ensconced in the food industry through various brands such as Godrej Nature’s Basket, Godrej Appliances, Godrej Interio, Godrej Protekt, Real Good Chicken, Cartini Knives etc. The idea is to put together a report that would serve as a compendium of thoughts and predictions for the year ahead. In its second edition, we have over 100 experts who have contributed to the report. We are hopeful that this becomes a ready reckoner for anyone who is associated with the food industry.” Survey designer Rushina Munshaw-Ghildiyal, Managing Director, A Perfect Bite Consulting LLP said “The Godrej Food Trends Report is the only report of its kind that reaches out to thought leaders across verticals in the Indian food industry, collects quantitative and qualitative inputs that are then collated, analysed and distilled into trends that will prevail in the forthcoming year. This year the Godrej Food Trends Report is Bigger, Wider in scope and deeper in insights. It will prove valuable to everyone in the food industry to plan strategy for the year to come.” Here is a look at the top 10 food trend predictions for this year: Artisanal will be the new “cool” Expect a boom in availability of unusual products with labels like rustic, artisanal, small-batch, crafted, and handmade. Convenience cooking will become respectable Consumers who are pressed for time will rely on concepts such as speed-scratch cooking. This in turn will drive a demand for products that offer the convenience of rustling up personalised meals at home. Functional foods will influence daily diet choices An increasing number of consumers are expected to pay attention to the functional and medicinal attributes of food products to help them select those that align best with their diet or lifestyle choices. Revival of more indigenous grains While millets were the focus of attention last year, consumer interest in 2019 will trigger the revival of other traditional grains and indigenous varieties of rice. Ordinary vegetables will be the new exotic Gharelu vegetables such as bathua, tendli, lauki, and tinda, which haven’t shown up in commercial kitchens so far, will feature prominently in restaurant menus. Conscientious cooking and responsible eating will gain traction As consumers become aware of and appreciate the intricate relationship between food choices and environmental wellbeing, they will actively seek solutions that help minimise impact on themselves and the environment. Fermented foods will be everywhere There will be a rise in the variety of naturally fermented products that are available on shelves and menus in 2019. Micro cuisines will hit the spotlight There will be an explosion of conversations, events, products, and dining experiences inspired by micro-cuisines from specific sub-regions, communities, and even family kitchens. Nani, Dadi and Ma’s recipes will rule menus The food industry will create more opportunities to pay homage to mothers, grandmothers and home chefs as the original sources of inspiration, and custodians of our rich culinary diversity. The reinvention of snacking Consumers will get more opportunities to replace their main meals with credible snacking products that align with their priorities around health, convenience and costs. The Godrej Food Trends 2019 Report promises to be an important addition to every food professional’s reading list. Download your free copy of the Godrej Food Trends Report 2019 at

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Stay here for best hospitality and best food

A little on the expensive side but worth every penny (or rupee). We stayed 3 nights. The hotel is a 15 minute walk to the lake, and less to amenities (taxi stand, stalls, atm, etc); the guests are predominately Indian, and the hotel caters for corporate functions, but we experienced no problems with this, and any celebrations abated by 10:30. Our room was clean and well-furnished, and the communal areas had interesting decor and adornments (worth taking time to look around); as well as a nice pool area there are pretty, well-maintained gardens to the front and side, so you can sit in the sun all day. What makes this hotel exceptional is the faultless professionalism of the staff: good management ensures that reception, housekeeping, waiters and bartenders provide first-class service and hospitality; I can not understate this. We spent enjoyable evenings engaging with the staff at the cocktail bar before dining; the food and service was consistently good (particularly the aloo chat and potato Alfredo). It’s hard to single out any member of staff as they were all good, but special mention must go to Executive Chef K.K. Singh for the quality cuisine.

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South Park’s first Indian restaurant awakens the palate

VIEWS
By Frank Sabatini Jr.
Rich curries and modern-day street foods common to northern India have gained steam in South Park, where cuisine from the subcontinent was non-existent until now. A taste of northern India cuisine comes to South Park. (Photos by Frank Sabatini Jr.)
The whimsically named Curryosity opened last October with a menu that steps a little beyond classic dishes such as tikki masala, clay-oven chicken (tandoori) and spiced pureed spinach (saag). Mingled within are rarities like curry waffle fries and an exhilarating appetizer known as dahi puri, which is listed here as “yogurt explosion.” Chances are you haven’t encountered either in other Indian joints.
Chef-owner Raj Mutti is a native of northern India. After emigrating to Los Angeles, he began cooking and serving at his sister and brother-in-law’s West Hollywood restaurant, Flavors of India. There, he rubbed elbows with Dolly Parton, Leonardo DiCaprio and other luminaries who came knocking for spicy, exotic fare.
Intent on owning his own restaurant, he moved to San Diego and opened Spice Lounge in Pacific Beach. Seven years later, Curryosity serves as an evolved offshoot geared to a more sophisticated demographic.
Amid a tasteful blend of refined décor, bold murals, and a second seating area in the back featuring low tables and couches, Mutti wanted to “back away” from the red-and-beige color scheme inherent to scores of other Indian restaurants. So with a white and golden-yellow color scheme, the atmosphere still manages to pay homage to his homeland while blending with the charm of South Park.
My vegetarian friend felt right at home, as 50 percent of the menu is meat-free. Visiting during the recently introduced lunch service (11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m., Friday through Sunday), we started with the delectably crispy waffle fries. The sauce draping them was thick and silky — nothing like the thin, brownish curry sauce served with fries in British pubs. This had a bright orange hue and tasted tangier. 1 of 3 – +
The “yogurt explosion” lives up to its nickname. What you get are six semolina balls that have been hollowed out and filled with chaat masala spice blend, fresh mint, plain yogurt and minced potatoes. They’re sprinkled on top with “chickpea noodles,” which we initially thought was finely grated cheddar cheese.
Too delicate and runny to cut into bites, you pop each ball separately into your mouth and behold a mini explosion that is cool and spicy and too unique to pass up.
A cup of chicken soup stocked generously with cubed breast meat also proved incredibly flavorful, thanks to a bouquet of ginger, onions, garlic and cilantro in the recipe. My friend’s karma soup was creamy from coconut milk and bulky from lentils. It offered nuances of yellow Thai curry. Mutti said the fusion aspect is deliberate in some of the dishes, such as the “nirvana” curry bowl I ordered as my main lunch entree.
Similar to panaang curry found in every Thai kitchen, coconut milk came into play again, and the curry sported a reddish color and slight kick from chili paste. The large pieces of chicken breast were fork-tender. They saddled up to long-grain turmeric rice, garlic naan bread, and spiced vegetables cooked to a very soft texture.
My friend’s bowl of saag included the same sidekicks. The stewed spinach was thickened by paneer cheese and expertly flavored with proper measures of ginger, garlic and toasted cumin. I normally don’t like the grassy flavor of cooked spinach, but this swooned my taste buds.
Other choices on the lunch menu include cheese or vegetable samosas, tandoori shrimp, chicken tikki masala, and a cream-kissed curry named “happy cow,” which features paneer cheese in a base of tomato and onion puree.
The daily dinner menu is a bit more expansive with inclusions such as naan bruschetta, chicken or paneer pakora, vegetable korma, and Indian-spiced rack of lamb.
Curryosity’s weekend lunch service is followed by happy hour, from 3 to 5 p.m. Friday through Sunday. The deals include appetizers, beer, wine and soju cocktails for $4 each, along with chicken wings made with a variety of curry sauces for $7 per order.
—Frank Sabatini Jr. is the author of ‘Secret San Diego’ (ECW Press) and began his local writing career more than two decades ago as a staffer for the former San Diego Tribune. Reach him at . Related Posts

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Dining tables can enhance the dining experience

Dining tables can enhance the dining experience Dining tables can enhance the dining experience Marianne de Nazareth As children we never had any posh dining tables to eat on as our Dad was in the Air Force and we just were given PWD furniture to use, which was rented at a minimal cost. It was only when we went to our Grandparents home in Bangalore, that we ate at a dining table which was bespoke and built to match the large dining room, with beautiful Italian floor tiles. The table seated six very comfortably and was made of Burma teak. Four more could sit at every corner with chairs pulled up from every room, when we had guests for a meal. I remember so clearly my Grandfather presiding over the table and there was nothing we children were denied. “ Go and bring as many mangoes as you like from the store room,” he would say, much to my Dads annoyance. “ When you are in my house you can eat as many as you like, take as many as you want.” And we went gleefully to the storeroom and brought the huge fruit to the table, for our grandmother to cut and we enjoyed, with rivulets of mango juice pouring down our faces. So when I had my own home it was clear, I wanted a beautiful, Burma teak dining table to seat six or more comfortably. Took a few years to buy one, but finally did get a beautiful piece from a store named Teak Wood, and have never regretted the buy. It is 30 plus years old and still as good as new. Then quite by chance, I was a guest at a doctors home in the UK with my family. A doctor from the ‘70’s who had no children and was obviously very comfortably off. We had a sit down dinner at his home in the UK, in a wonderful home with a breathtaking garden. But all that paled into insignificance when we sat down to our meal.The table had been especially shipped out from India and could comfortably seat twelve. The entire table was inlaid with exquisite Indian motifs, entire village scenes from different parts of India. The whole table was covered with a large slab of glass and so did not need a table- cloth. We could admire the intricate workmanship of our Indian artisans, while we devoured our meal. To add to the wonderful experience his wife was a cordon bleu chef and the spread could have knocked the socks off any Indian chef, anywhere in the world. Mangalorean cuisine was his wife’s specialty and the variety of meats and sea food on the table, was mind boggling. “ My table cost me 5 lakhs to bring here way back in the ‘80’s,” the affable Doctor explained with pride, while we all oohed and aahed and wondered what it was worth in 2018. Last year we had a wonderful meal in a fabulous old Portuguese bungalow of a friend in the heart of Panjim. Armando Gonsalves lives in the sprawling Gonsalves Mansion in the heart of Panjim, stuffed to the brim with the most wonderful artefacts from around the world. He is the man behind trying to clean up the city of Panjim and I was being feted as my story about the Panjim Creek had won me the first prize from the German government, along with a cheque of Rs 50,000/- He was thrilled because I had brought his and my beloved Goa to the forefront in an International magazine called Terra Green, which is the baby of the famed TERI University in New Delhi. But it was his massive dining table, that caught my eye as we sat down to a meal. Like all dining tables in large homes that are meant to expand and contract according to the number of people sitting down to a meal, the leaves of the table were lifted out to expand and seat 24. Needless to say it was placed in a massive dining room with a stunning chandelier hanging over it. The chandelier tinkled above, as our conversation ebbed and flowed below it. The fried mackerels, masala pomfrets and savoury prawns that we ate, along with the pork vindaloo and the home made goan sunnas, had everyone replete and thanking Armando for his generosity in inviting us over. Phones were whipped out to take pics of the table and selfies with the beaming host and hostess. And now one of my sons, has bought the grandest, most beautiful table anyone could ever desire, in an auction. Definitely someone’s dream dining table to seat 8, with leaves for more. It has a glass topping under which there are the most stunning carved Indonesian or Chinese ( Macao) workmanship. Even the chairs are carved with the most exquisite upholstery to match. Good to see that the kids have imbibed the joys of recycling, rather than purchasing new, which do not have the strength or character as old furniture does. And antique has value which new does not. To really and truly enjoy a sit down meal, I strongly believe, that the table too makes a big difference. And it makes me glad to see, that this generation prefers sit down meals, at exquisite dining tables, to the buffet meals of our generation. And for Christmas we could also cross our arms and enjoy pulling a traditional Christmas Bon bon, in a chilly London, all seated around a large dining table. The crockery, cutlery and style of a sit down meal, is unbeatable.

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21 Can’t-Fail Date Ideas for Art Lovers in New York Ahead of Valentine’s Day

Is there anything more exciting than date night in New York? Bright lights, big city, limitless options. But with so many choices, it’s difficult to know where to begin. Not to worry, your friends at artnet News have you covered. Here are our best art-date ideas around New York, from uptown to downtown and everywhere in between.
Chelsea Grab a delicious bite at Jun-Men Ramen. Photo courtesy of Jun-Men Ramen.
Get Some Free Wine at a Thursday Night Gallery Openings and Some Delicious Noodles at the Jun-Men Ramen Bar Select Thursday nights are opening nights in galleries across Chelsea, so odds are you’ll find a few new shows to pop into on any given week between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m. (To plot a course in advance, check the artnet website for what’s coming up.) The neighborhood is home to some of the city’s biggest galleries—think Gagosian, David Zwirner, Hauser & Wirth, and Pace—but you’re more likely to score free wine (or at least a PBR) at the smaller, non-blue chip outfits. And the art can be just as good, if not fresher and more exciting!
A great place to end the night is Jun-Men Ramen, where you can get an excellent BBQ pork bun and a piping hot bowl of pork bone ramen. They have plenty of beer and sake to wash it all down, plus an inventive “sake-tail” with grapefruit and yuzu, if the wine wasn’t particularly free-flowing earlier in the night.
Jun-Men Ramen is at 249 Ninth Avenue; Chelsea’s art galleries are mainly located between 10th and 11th Avenues and 19th and 28th Streets.
—Sarah Cascone
Midtown MoMA’s a great place to begin any date night. Photo © 2006 Timothy Hursley.
Visit MoMA and Eat at Fabulous French Meal at Brasserie Ruhlmann at Rockefeller Center In addition to its tremendous temporary exhibitions, the Museum of Modern Art has one of the world’s most famous permanent collections, and it never disappoints. From Piet Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie ( 1942–43), to Picasso’s Girl Before a Mirror (1932), there’s no shortage of sights to see. And what could be more romantic than Vincent van Gogh’s brilliant Starry Night (1889)?
Afterwards, walk a few blocks east to Rockefeller Center and find Brasserie Ruhlmann, an elegant restaurant decked out with red velvet chairs and banquets in homage to legendary French designer Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann, whose style epitomizes 1920s French Art Deco.
— Eileen Kinsella
Grab Some Cheap Eats and Fancy Cocktails If you’re willing to wait in line for the perfect New York street food, the Halal Guys cart is a good place to begin. But if you want something equally delicious and quick, you can fuel up at Xian Famous Foods, where the cumin lamb noodles are only $11. Afterwards, now that you’ve saved a dime, splurge on cocktails and dessert at the bar room of Danny Meyer’s super classy restaurant at MoMA, appropriately named the Modern. And if you’re still craving something savory, you can’t go wrong with the Alsatian bacon-laden tart flambée.
MoMA is at 11 West 53rd Street; Brasserie Ruhlmann is at 45 Rockefeller Plaza; Xian Famous Foods is at 37 West 54th Street; the Halal Guys cart is at 53rd Street and 6th Avenue; The Modern is at 9 West 53rd Street.
—Sarah Cascone
West Village Dorothy Iannone’s I Lift My Lamp Beside the Golden Door is up this spring at High Line Park. Photo: Timothy Schenck.
Head to the Whitney’s Outdoor Galleries and Take a Walk on the High Line Take your time—if crowds allow—promenading along the High Line, a former elevated rail line, and admire the beautifully landscaped vegetation (based on native plants that sprang up after the freight trains stopped running in 1980) and the art, which in the past has included works by Zoe Leonard and Tony Matelli. It’s best to start at 34th Street and work your way down, stopping off at the Whitney Museum in time to enjoy sunset from the museum roof.
Or, come May, make the journey in reverse and check out the new Hudson Yards, where highlights will include Thomas Heatherwick’s Vessel , a massive climbable monument made of interlocking staircases (timed entry tickets are free, but we expect you’ll want to reserve in advance). you can also check out the Shed, a cultural center offering exhibitions and performances. We suggest a food court—Gotham West Market, Gansevoort Market, and Chelsea Market are all great options—for a low-key dinner sure to cater to your date’s culinary preferences.
The High Line can be accessed along numerous points along Manhattan’s West Side; the Whitney Museum of American Art is at 99 Gansevoort Street; the Shed is at 545 West 30th Street; Gotham West Market is at 600 11th Avenue; Gansevoort Market is at 353 West 14th Street; Chelsea Market is at 75 9th Avenue.
—Sarah Cascone
SoHo The Judd Foundation is the artist’s former home and studio in SoHo—or, as Judd called it, the Cast Iron District. Photo: Judd Foundation.
Stop by the Judd Foundation and Sit by the Fire at Balthazar Nestled among boutique handbag shops and bespoke athleisure outfitters, the legendary building where artist Donald Judd lived and worked in the 1960s is a sight to behold. Book a free appointment (all tours have to be pre-scheduled) and walk up the rickety wooden stairs into what feels like an alternate dimension. The building, a cast-iron behemoth soaring five stories, was purchased by Judd in 1968, and became his primary residence and his studio. Each floor was designed by Judd with a specific goal in mind, and the furniture and artwork are all in service of a purpose. Nothing is extraneous; as Judd wrote in 1989, “everything from the first was intended to be thoroughly considered and to be permanent.”
If you take a late afternoon tours, you’ll be treated to a sunset through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And make sure tovisit the top floor—Judd’s bedroom—in time for to see the Dan Flavin installations light up the dark. Finish off your evening with a trip to SoHo-stalwart and inspired french brasserie Balthazar, and sit by the fire with a cocktail.
The Judd Foundation is at 101 Spring Street; Balthazar is at 80 Spring Street.
— Caroline Goldstein
Walter De Maria’s The Broken Kilometer (1979) is a permanent installation in SoHo. © The Estate of Walter De Maria. Photo: Jon Abbott.
Check Out the Earth Room and the Broken Kilometer If you want to be especially impressive to your date, take him or her to two of the less-trafficked art destinations in the city. Both are by the artist Walter De Maria and are hiding in plain sight in SoHo, one of New York’s busiest neighborhoods. First, stop by The Earth Room in a loft on 141 Wooster Street. You’ll feel extra in-the-know when you buzz the doorbell and walk up the narrow stairwell to find the surreal, musty-smelling space, which is filled with 250 cubic yards of packed dirt. Once you’ve taken that in, take a short walk over to The Broken Kilometer , which hides behind a similarly unassuming storefront at 383 West Broadway. Inside, 500 brass rods sit in parallel rows on a wooden floor. Like The Earth Room , this sounds fairly banal—until you see it in person. Just trust us: you’ll be a hero.
The Earth Room is at 141 Wooster Street; The Broken Kilometer is at 393 West Broadway.
—Julia Halperin
Lower East Side The New Museum is one of the city’s most admired museums. Photo: Dean Kaufman courtesy of the New Museum.
Visit the New Museum and Have a Cozy Supper at Supper Smack in the middle of New York’s Lower East Side, right on the Bowery, the New Museum always has an exciting lineup of exhibitions by buzzed about contemporary artists, from Sarah Lucas to John Akomfrah to Genesis Belanger.
From there, it’s a ten minute walk (or two-minute cab ride) to longstanding Italian favorite Supper, a warm, rustic, and inviting restaurant, run by restaurateur Frank Prisinzano. (His other nearby spots, Lil Frankie’s and Frank’s, also deserve their rave reviews.) If there’s a wait for a table, step into Supper’s next-door wine bar and pick from a wide range of Italian favorites, for the red and white wine drinker alike.
The New Museum is at 235 Bowery; Supper is at 156 East 2nd Street.
— Eileen Kinsella
Little Italy and Chinatown The Elizabeth Street Garden has been a public space for nearly 200 years. Photo by Brafford33 via Wikimedia Commons.
Grab Some Dim Sum and Visit the Elizabeth Street Garden
Impress your date with your dim sum know-how by picking all the best dumplings from the roving carts at Chinese food palace Jing Fong. (Most of the staff doesn’t speak English, so just point at what you think looks good, or study up in advance if you want to look like a pro.)
Walk off your big lunch by heading north to the Elizabeth Street Garden, stopping along the way for a cup of joe at Gimme! Coffee. You can buy freshly roasted beans to take home, plus a drink to go, which we suggest you enjoy one block over at the bucolic garden, which is free and full of antique sculptures and architectural elements. Finish off the afternoon at with nearby galleries ARSENAL contemporary and Andrew Edlin Gallery.
Jing Fong is at 20 Elizabeth Street; Gimme! Coffee is at 228 Mott Street; the Elizabeth Street Garden is on Elizabeth Street between Prince and Spring Streets; ARSENAL contemporary is at 214 Bowery; Andrew Edlin Gallery is at 212 Bowery.
—Sarah Cascone
Upper East Side Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle Hotel is a New York institution, and one of the best decorated bars in the city. Courtesy of Bemelmans Bar, the Carlyle Hotel.
Head to the Met Breuer and Grab a Drink at Bemelmans Bar The Met Breuer’s days are numbered , and now is the perfect time to visit the Marcel Breuer-designed building before the former Whitney flagship gets turned over to the Frick collection.
After taking in the exhibitions, grab a bite at Flora Bar, the delectable eatery on the museum’s lower level—which boasts outdoor eating if the weather is nice—and finish off the day with a night cap at the Carlyle Hotel’s swanky Bemelmans bar, named after the illustrator and creator of the beloved Madeline books. A longtime New York City resident, Bemelman painted the bar’s atmospheric murals.
The Met Breuer is at 945 Madison Avenue; Bemelmans Bar is in The Carlyle Hotel at 35 East 76th Street.
—Sarah Cascone
Inwood The Met Cloisters is a perfect museum to visit for a contemplative experience. Photo courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Stroll Through the Cloisters and Eat on Indian Road If you’re looking for an active date, hop on a bike and ride along scenic Riverside Park up to the Cloisters, the Met’s northern satellite. (Be forewarned: CitiBike has yet to colonize Manhattan north of 130th Street, so you’d have to do a round trip rental.)
Housed inside a gorgeous stone building made up of several real medieval cloisters shipped over from Europe in the 1930s, the museum has an incredible collection of medieval art and a real monastic herb garden, not to mention a stunning view from its perch in Fort Tryon Park at the north end of Washington Heights. By this point, you’ve undoubtedly worked up an appetite. There is a beautiful eatery, the New Leaf Restaurant, inside the park (which you might recognize from the Matt Damon and Emily Blunt film The Adjustment Bureau ), but if you’re not up for the wait or price, head north towards Spuyten Duyvil Creek to the Indian Road Cafe. The brunch menu includes vegan sausage, there’s often live music (they have a piano in the dining room), and there’s pub trivia on Wednesday nights.
The Met Cloisters is at 99 Margaret Corbin Drive; the New Leaf is at 1 Margaret Corbin Drive; Indian Road Cafe is at 600 West 218th Street.
—Sarah Cascone
Harlem Chef Marcus Samuelsson at Red Rooster. Courtesy of Red Rooster.
Explore the Harlem Galleries and Eat at Red Rooster Unfortunately, renovations are still ongoing at the Studio Museum in Harlem, but a great, free alternative is the nearby Gavin Brown’s Enterprise, which represents artists including Latoya Ruby Frazier, Alex Katz, and Peter Doig. The massive gallery space, formerly a brewery , has been equipped with a kitchen designed by Rirkrit Tiravanija, and there’s typically something cooking on Sunday afternoons.
But if you want to really impress, snag a reservation at Red Rooster, a Harlem hot spot from chef Marcus Samuelsson, who blends Southern soul food favorites with the cuisine of his native Ethiopia, and Sweden, where he was raised by his adoptive parents. The atmosphere is particularly great during the boozy Sunday jazz brunch.
Gavin Brown’s Enterprise is at 439 West 127th Street; Red Rooster is at 310 Lenox Avenue.
—Sarah Cascone
Flatiron “Arlene Shechet: Full Steam Ahead” is one of many temporary exhibitions that spring up at Madison Square Park. Photo by Guy Ben-Ari. Courtesy of the Madison Park Conservancy.
Check Out the Public Art in Madison Square Park and Grab a Cocktail at Eleven Madison Park Madison Square Park’s ambitious program of contemporary art pretty much guarantees that all installations are a must-see experience. Steps away from the park is the storied Eleven Madison Park, a restaurant that has garnered near-mythic status among foodies and restaurant critics alike. Of course, it’s not cheap, so if you’re against taking out a small loan or a second mortgage on your house to foot the dinner bill, splurge on one of the eatery’s many inventive, delicious cocktails instead.
Madison Square Park is between 5th Avenue and Madison Avenue at 25th Street; Eleven Madison Park is at 11 Madison Avenue.
—Eileen Kinsella
South Street Seaport The South Street Seaport Museum is an oft-overlooked gem. Photo courtesy of the South Street Seaport Museum.
Walk Across the Brooklyn Bridge and Visit the South Street Seaport Museum Believe veteran New Yorkers when they tell you that the absolute best views of the Manhattan skyline are from Brooklyn and New Jersey. To get the best out of this date, start at the south end of the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, soak in the sights of the East River and the city, and walk north toward the Brooklyn Bridge. The pedestrian walkway and bike lane begins at Tillary Street and Adams Street. Once you’ve made it across the bridge, head south to Fulton Street and then east until you hit South Street Seaport and the eponymous museum. It’s dedicated to telling the story of the rise of New York as a port city and its crucial role in the development of the US. Historic buildings and ships provide context to interactive exhibits.
The South Street Seaport Museum is at 12 Fulton Street.
—Eileen Kinsella
The Staten Island Ferry is an excellent way to see the city—and it’s free! Photo by InSapphoWeTrust. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
Visit the National Museum of the American Indian and Crack Open a Beer on the Staten Island Ferry The National Museum of the American Indian is one of the city’s great free institutions. After you’ve checked out its exhibits (which are also fun for kids), make time for a truly only-in-New-York moment aboard the Staten Island Ferry. Tickets are free and you’ll see some stunning views of the city’s skyline, harbor, and—of course—Lady Liberty herself. Stand on the stern for the best vantage point, which is unobstructed by dirty window glass. Delightfully, it’s also legal to drink on board, with affordable beers for sale from the ferry concession stand. So crack open a tall boy and watch the sunset for a surprisingly romantic end to your date.
The National Museum of the American Indian is at 1 Bowling Green; the Staten Island Ferry is at the Whitehall Ferry Terminal, 4 Whitehall Street.
—Sarah Cascone
The Bronx An aerial view of the New York Botanical Garden’s conservatory at dusk. Photo © Robert Benson Photography courtesy of NYBG.
Amble Through Bronx’s Little Italy and Visit the New York Botanical Garden If the New York Botanical Garden’s annual art exhibition is on view, don’t have a second thought about making the journey up to the Bronx: recent must-see outings have been dedicated to the likes of Frida Kahlo and Georgia O’Keeffe, so we have high hopes for whatever they cook up for the future.
After wandering the grounds and checking out the seasonal blooms—we love to catch the peonies, or, earlier in the year, the daffodils—head over to Arthur Avenue, the city’s real Little Italy. You can splurge for world-class pasta at Roberto’s, or go more casual at one of several amazing sandwich joints: Casa Della Mozzarella, which has the tenderest, most delicious fresh mozzarella this side of Roma, or Tino’s Delicatessen or Mike’s Deli, of Throwdown! With Bobby Flay fame. Finish up with the cannoli at Madonia Brothers Bakery (you’ll finally understand that scene from The Godfather )!
The New York Botanical Garden is at 2900 Southern Boulevard; Roberto’s is at 603 Crescent Avenue; Casa Della Mozzarella is at 604 East 187th Street; Tino’s Delicatessen is at 2410 Arthur Avenue; Mike’s Deli is at 2344 Arthur Avenue; Madonia Brothers Bakery is at 2348 Arthur Avenue.
—Sarah Cascone
One of the properties at Wave Hill in the Bronx. Photo by Education Images/UIG via Getty Images.
See the View From Wave Hill and Get Some Carrot Cake at Lloyd’s Wave Hill is a special place. Built as a country home for a jurist in 1843, it later served as a temporary home for distinguished guests such as Theodore Roosevelt, Mark Twain, and Bashford Dean, the eminent zoologist who also founded the Metropolitan Museum’s department of arms and armor. In 1960, it became a city-owned public institution (today, it is one of 33) and is now a beloved pleasure garden that offers unparalleled views of the Palisades of New Jersey. There’s even a small art gallery that hosts exhibition by local and international artists.
When you’re done perusing the gardens, head over to Broadway and stop in at Lloyd’s Carrot Cake, a Bronx institution that routinely ships its famous cakes out to China, Nigeria, and the Philippines. If you don’t love carrots, don’t fret: you can also get a delicious slice of pineapple, chocolate, or red velvet cake. Treats in hand, cross the street into Van Cortland Park and enjoy the sunset.
Wave Hill is at 675 West 252nd Street; Lloyd’s Carrot Cake is at 6087 Broadway.
—Pac Pobric
Astoria
Socrates Sculpture Park in Long Island City offers a place for respite. Image courtesy Socrates Sculpture Park.
Take in the Noguchi Museum and a Picnic at Socrates Sculpture Park The Noguchi Museum is one of the city’s under-appreciated gems. Spend an hour or two admiring Isamu Noguchi’s sleek sculptural forms, then repair to nearby Socrates Sculpture Park, which was founded in 1986 by sculptor Mark Di Suvero in what was then an abandoned lot. This neighborhood treasure has hosted exhibitions by the likes of Agnes Denes, Vito Acconci, and Nari Ward, plus an annual exhibition highlighting new sculptural talent. Located right on the water with a stunning view of the Manhattan skyline, it’s the perfect place to set up a romantic picnic, with provisions purchased at nearby sandwich shop Compton’s.
The Noguchi Museum is at 9-01 33rd Road; Socrates Sculpture Park is at 32-01 Vernon Boulevard. Compton’s is at 30-02 14th Street.
—Sarah Cascone
Flushing The Queens Museum. Courtesy of the Queens Museum.
Visit the Queens Museum and Hit a Mets Game One of New York City’s greatest unsung landmarks is undoubtedly the Unisphere, built for the 1964 World’s Fair. Catch the 7 train out to Queens’s Corona Park to see it for yourself, along with the flying saucer-esque Observatory Tower, another remnant from the international exhibition. The park is also home to the Queens Museum, with its stunning Panorama of the City of New York, showcase of Tiffany lamps from the Neustadt Collection, and world-class temporary exhibitions.
As the afternoon draws to a close, walk back toward the 7 train and head to Citi Field for a Mets game. The team hasn’t been successful in recent years, but they have a beautiful ballpark, excellent concessions—and hey, ya gotta believe!
The Queens Museum is at New York City Building, Flushing Meadows Corona Park; Citi Field is at 123-01 Roosevelt Avenue.
—Sarah Cascone
Brooklyn Maria Antelman’s exhibition, “Disassembler,” at Pioneer Works in Brooklyn. Courtesy of Pioneer Works.
Take in a Show at Pioneer Works and Watch the Sunset from Sunny’s Bar There isn’t great public transit to Red Hook—although now there’s a ferry line that goes there for the cost of a swipe on the subway—but it’s worth the trip. On the quiet streets, the nonprofit arts space Pioneer Works is just a stone’s throw from Sunny’s, the stalwart waterfront saloon that’s held court for decades. If you’re really jonesing for a nostalgia trip, make it an all-inclusive trip and check out the regular rotation of local artists who show on the walls of Sunny’s backroom, often accompanied by live music around 10 p.m. And for a bite to eat, there’s the famous Red Hook Lobster Pound, plus dessert at Steve’s Authentic Key Lime Pies in nearby Louis Valentino Jr. Park and Pier, with its gorgeous view of the Statue of Liberty.
Pioneer Works is at 159 Pioneer Street; Sunny’s Bar is at 53 Conover Street.
—Caroline Goldstein
Westchester Richard Serra’s work is displayed prominently at Dia:Beacon. Photo © Richard Serra/Artist Rights Society (ARS) New York. Photo: Bill Jacobson Studio, NY.
Head Out to Dia:Beacon and Grab a Bite at Blue Hill if you’re up for a trip outside the confines of the city, take the MetroNorth’s Hudson Line train from Grand Central to Dia:Beacon , one of the most cerebrally romantic museums in the United States, where the estimable director Jessica Morgan’s enhanced focus on overlooked women artists is warming the cool Minimalist collection with a new sense of discovery. Afterward, grab your (art) lover and shoot down Route 9 to Blue Hill at Stone Barns, Dan Barber’s temple to sustainable, farm-to-table gastronomy that is as much a pilgrimage site for the culturati as is Dia.
Dia:Beacon is at 3 Beekman Street, Beacon, New York; Blue Hill at Stone Barns is at 630 Bedford Road, Tarrytown, New York.
– Andrew Goldstein
Maya Lin’s Storm King Wavefield (2007–08) is one of the many sites to see at the Storm King Art Center. Photo by Maya Lin Studio. Courtesy Pace Gallery.
Check Out Storm King and Have a Beer at the Peekskill Brewery This one comes with a stamp of approval from actor Aziz Ansari, who goes leaf-peeping at the Storm King Art Center with love interest Francesca in the second season of his Netflix hit Master of None . But don’t feel the need to wait until fall to make the trip: the sculpture park is open April through November, plus on select winter weekends, and it’s always a good time to pose for photos with Maya Lin’s Storm King Wavefield , a stunning piece of landscape art in the form of ocean-like hills, or with with monumental works by the likes of Alexander Calder and Mark di Suvero. Hit up the Peekskill Brewery afterward for beers in the taproom and tasty pub food. (Note that there is no public transport on the west side of the river, so this date is best if you have a car.)
The Storm King Art Center is at 1 Museum Rd, New Windsor, New York; Peekskill Brewery is at 47-53 South Water Street Peekskill, New York.
—Sarah Cascone
The post 21 Can’t-Fail Date Ideas for Art Lovers in New York Ahead of Valentine’s Day appeared first on artnet News .

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‘My mom is my influence’

I was in class 10 when I first heard that someone could take up cooking as a profession. Irudhaya Raj, one of my school teachers, told me about the growing opportunities in the culinary industry. I was quite interested.
Chef Prakash Kumar
As soon as I completed my board exam, I started searching for hotel management courses and soon got into one.
I was always a curious kid and loved being in the kitchen. I helped my mother in cutting vegetables and doing the dishes. I was around 12 years old then. Having grown up seeing her work tirelessly and producing some amazing dishes, my interest only grew. My mother has been a huge influence on me. I always felt the need to help her with household chores.
Having started my career with Ramanashree Hotels in Mysuru in 1995, and also gathering experiences with various other chains of hotels in New Delhi and Hyderabad, today, I am an executive sous chef at ‘The Woodrose Club’, JP Nagar.
My forte is Italian cuisine. I love making pasta and stew in Italian style. When I started my career, I used to follow the authentic recipe but with time, as I understood the varying taste and need of my customers, I started experimenting with my dishes.
When I am at home, I love relishing Indian vegetarian dishes. I cook them with a twist of local flavours of Tamil Nadu since I am from there.
Being in the industry for over two decades, I can say that the best part about being a chef (which is also sometimes challenging) is to manage a team and prepare food according to one’s taste.
The recipe I am sharing today is ‘Ghost Badami Pasanda’. It is a mildly flavoured mutton dish that you can have with rice or roti.
Ghost Badami Pasanda Ingredients
Sliced leg of lamb – 500 gm
Milk – 100 ml
Almond flakes – 50 gm
Ghee – 90 gm
Ginger garlic paste – 75 gm
Onion – 400 gm
Curd – 600 gm
Cashew paste – 100 gm
White pepper – 20 gm
Javtri elachi powder – 20 gm
Cardamom (big) – 5 gm
Cloves – 4 gm
Cinnamon – 5 gm
Bay leaf – 3 gm
Peppercorn – 4 gm
Green chillies – 5 gm
Sugar – 20 gm
Salt to taste
Method
Blanch the sliced lamb leg in water and discard the water.
Boil the onions with big cardamom, green chillies and make a smooth paste
Heat ghee in a Handi put whole garam masala and let it crackle. Put ginger garlic paste and let it cook till brown add the boiled onion paste and the curds let it simmer. Add the blanched mutton pieces and finish it and finished it off with cashew paste and cardamom powder.
Add the blanched mutton pieces and finish it off with cashew paste and cardamom powder.
Adjust seasonings and consistency
Garnish it with almond flakes
Tips
Add ‘nutmeg’ if the mutton is too hard. It will soften the meat.
Make sure to remove the black gum from the cashew when you boil it.

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Nice hotel

It is a really nice hotel. The staff is friendly and efficient. I specially loved the food at the Okra Restaurant. Even the breakfast at Momo’s was really nice. Good spread, tasty food. Nice inclusive large spread. Local as well as pan Indian cuisine. Even continental.

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Protected: First Course

Zoe Tennant
It was after midnight and Andrew George was exhausted. He’d been chopping, slicing and steaming in the harshly lit, windowless kitchen since eight that morning. He knew that if his team was to stand a chance, he had to forget about the fatigue. Unlike some of the other more-seasoned competitors, neither George nor his four teammates had ever competed at the Culinary Olympics. The kitchen was in chaos – pots bubbling on the stove, frying pans sizzling, his teammates dashing to the walk-in fridge.
At twenty-eight, George was the youngest on the team, and he knew this meant he had to work harder to prove himself. He was used to this sort of pressure though, thrived on it. George wore his tall starched chef’s hat with such regularity that he forgot it was there; an imprint of it was often left on his black hair long after he finished work. His forearms were peppered with faint scars from ten years of labouring in kitchens. George and his teammates were each taking a turn as executive chef, and it was now George’s moment, and he was going for the gold. Photograph of the Native Canadian Haute Cuisine Team: with (from left) Bertha Skye, David Wolfman, Arnold Olson, Andrew George Jr. / Courtesy of Andrew George
The 1992 Culinary Olympics were being held in Frankfurt, Germany during a cold spell in October. The competitions took place in the exhibition hall of the Messegelände convention center in the city’s west end, but George’s team, like many others, were doing their prep off-site. His team had spent countless hours on their feet, wearing their checkered black-and-white chef pants, in the kitchen at the Marriott Hotel. George had hung a clean set of his chef’s whites in a little room off of the kitchen, past the industrial stoves and the vents that pushed out air and produced a soundtrack of white noise. He wanted to look sharp when he presented his dishes to the judges, but knew he wouldn’t have time to snap back to his hotel room to change beforehand. His team’s name had been embroidered on the coat: Canadian Native Haute Cuisine Team. They were the first team of Indigenous chefs to ever compete at the Culinary Olympics.
That year, more than a thousand sauciers, chefs and patissiers from over fifty countries had shown up to compete. Chefs had been training since the last medal ceremony four years before, recipes had been rehearsed, glazes perfected. France, everyone said, was the team to watch. The five-day event was known for launching careers and food trends. It was, and still is, one of the biggest and most prestigious culinary competitions in the world. For any chef, attending the Culinary Olympics is the highlight of a career. For five Indigenous chefs whose cuisines weren’t even on the map back in Canada, it was a chance to show the world the recipes from their lands, the foods of their Nations.
The captain of the Native Haute Cuisine Team was David Wolfman, a tall guy from the Xaxli’p Nation, a community at the base of the Coast Mountains just north of Vancouver. Wolfman had been running a successful Indigenous catering company in Toronto before he’d started training for Frankfurt. With him was Bertha Skye, an Ahtahkakoop Cree who had married into the Cayuga Nation and had taken up their Haudenosaunee culinary traditions. Arnold Olson was a year older than George, Cree, and wore a dark, thick mustache. Brian Sappier, who travelled with the team as a back-up chef in case someone from the team fell ill or got injured, was Wolastoqiyik and from a reserve on the north side of the Tobique River in the heart of New Brunswick. They’d been training together for over a year. The bleached tiles and stainless steel surfaces of the Frankfurt kitchen were new to them but the chefs worked together in perfect rhythm, each recipe memorized, the steps choreographed and well-rehearsed.
There was still much to do before they would be ready to plate the dishes. It was day five, the final day of the competition, and the team was heartened by the fistful of medals they’d won already and by the press they’d received from the German media. Olson’s menu, ‘From the Sea and Forest’, featured papery sliced perch, and moose knuckle with the cut, white bone revealing chestnut-coloured marrow, its flavour buttery and unctuous. For her menu, Skye cooked Three Sisters Soup, made with corn, beans and squash, a recipe her Haudenosaunee mother-in-law had taught her.
George’s menu was from the Northwest, and showcased the foods from his Wet’suwet’en Nation. Foods that his parents and grandparents had taught him to trap, hunt, fish and gather. Foods that, standing on a stool next to the stove, he’d watched his mother make, and his grandmother down the road, and his dad in the bush. Foods from their land.
George stood at the stainless-steel countertop and looked down at the ingredient that he hoped would get him noticed, if he could just pull off the technique. He needed to cook the beaver that had been flown in for his soup. For the past year, he had been practicing the intricacies of this dish at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal, where his team had been training. The dish called on techniques George had learned in professional kitchens, as well as on the traditional teachings of his parents and grandparents – he had a foot in two worlds, and had been straddling them his whole life.
He touched the dark leathery tail of the beaver in this foreign kitchen. It lay before him on the stark metal counter. Holding his Henckels knife, its weight familiar in his hand, he thought about being out with his father in their territories in the wintertime when the snow-capped mountains looked over their valley – the best time to trap a beaver. George had taken care preparing the tail, he’d poached it in a pot of water for nearly an hour and it was finally cool enough to handle. Using his knife he started to peel back the skin. He remembered being out on the traplines, and the dried tobacco leaves that they placed on the snow as an offering of thanks. The tail had poached well, the skin peeled back effortlessly to reveal a flesh that was gelatinous and rich, the colour of the palest salal flowers. As he worked, the earthy smell of the beaver – like poplar trees and willows – was both comforting and disorienting. Something so familiar in this setting so far from home. The next step was to add the meat from the tail to his stock simmering on the stove. He set to work.
Photograph of Andrew George, Jr. / Courtesy of Andrew George
In 1959, George’s grandfather Paddy Isaac boarded a bus from Telkwa, British Columbia, to Smithers and set out to find a place to stay for the night. The handful of hotels scattered near the mountain highway had signs posted in the windows that read: white patrons only. When every hotel refused Isaac because he was Indigenous, he asked the local police station if he could pay to sleep in a cell. There he spent the night, paying the cost of bail.
George was born four years later. When he turned nineteen he told his friends he was moving to the city to train as a chef. They thought he was crazy. White tablecloths, béchamel and béarnaise were everyday for some people, but to them felt as far away as the moon. ‘Twenty years ago we weren’t even allowed to go eat in those places. You’re going to go cook in those places?’ A few months later, George was wearing chef whites and learning his mise en place at the Vancouver Vocational Institute downtown.
When he started cooking school, George was one of only two Indigenous students in his program, he remembers. Those days were tough. Racism wasn’t the main story, but it was there. ‘There were people who said “Indians can’t cook.”’ He had to grow a thick skin in the kitchen.
Once he’d completed his culinary training, George cut his teeth working in prominent Vancouver restaurants including Quilicum, the only Indigenous restaurant in the city. George manned the wood-burning grill there until he got a gig as head cook at the First Nations Restaurant at Expo 86. Four years later, on a summer day, he drove sixteen hours north to Telkwa, caught 300 trout with his cousins, packed them in ice and drove back to Vancouver to grill them for the opening of his own restaurant and catering business, which he called Toody Ni after a shale hill in his home territory known for its abundant juniper berries. The restaurant was located on a quiet strip of East Hastings Street, and the menu featured salmon and bannock, salmon soup, venison and bison, and plenty of herring roe. A few months after opening, in the middle of a dinner rush, George got a phone call that would forever change his culinary career. It was Chef Wolfman, captain of the Native Haute Cuisine Team.
Photograph of Andrew George, Jr. (Wet’suwet’en Nation) and David Wolfman (Xaxli’p Nation), in Frankfurt / Courtesy of Andrew George
The night before the competition George and his teammates hardly slept. It was raining in the morning, and still dark when they arrived at the convention center. Despite the early hour, chefs were buzzing about carrying dishes and trays. The judges would be arriving in a few short hours.
The team set about displaying their dishes: terrine of smoked fish, smoked arctic char, venison tenderloin, and the beaver tail soup. The soup had turned out perfectly, a deep brown, but clear and light like a consommé. Its aroma was somewhere between a beef broth and roast turkey. If he were back home, George would’ve hung the skinned beaver in the smokehouse the way his mom had taught him, by keeping a fire going with alder or cottonwood until the carcass had dried out over a couple of days. He would’ve brought the smoked meat to the feast hall and passed it around. George knew the elders at home might prefer a more traditional approach to his soup, but he had worked hard at mastering the classical culinary techniques and he liked the challenge of blending these methods with the foods and teachings he’d grown up with. When George left for culinary school he was reminded of advice his grandfather had given him, to get a Western education to match his traditional one, to have a balance. You can survive in the city and you can survive in the bush.
The judges were touring the room carrying their clipboards. George looked around and saw a gathering of mostly white chefs. It wasn’t too different from other restaurant kitchens that he’d worked in. Still, George was nervous. He thought of his parents back home in the Wet’sutwet’en territories, of his father, whom he’d watched prepare beaver so many times.
Then the results were in. George and his teammates held their breath. ‘ Gold . Das kanadische Team eingeborener Köche .’
George didn’t need to hear the translation – he had picked up enough German to understand. They had done it. Applause broke out from around the room. The Canadian Native Haute Cuisine Team had won the gold.
By the end of the Olympics, George’s team had won seven gold medals, two silver, and two bronze. Eleven medals in all. All this in a year when the judging in Frankfurt was said to be the toughest in the event’s 92-year history. All this by the first ever Indigenous culinary team.
Photograph of hotel kitchen in Frankfurt, where the Canadian Native Haute Cuisine Team did their prep for the 1992 Culinary Olympics / Courtesy of Andrew George
It’s a hot evening twenty-three years later, in June, and George and his mom Rita sit around the dining table in his three-story townhouse on the outskirts of Vancouver. The rows of suburban homes alongside George’s are identical – cream-coloured wood panelling, chocolate brown trim, mowed lawns, low-lying hedges. George, his wife Cecilia, and their two kids moved into the four-bedroom home eight years ago. Inside, the walls have been painted a light sage. A print of Roy Henry Vicker’s painting Siwash Rock hangs on a kitchen wall, and a copy of George’s first cookbook Feast! is on display on a nearby bookshelf. Behind the white kitchen cabinet doors are cans of salmon from Rita, dried seaweed, and maroon and burgundy berry preserves.
After the Culinary Olympics, George was offered a contract teaching Indigenous cuisine at a cooking school in Montreal – the first of its kind in Canada. He’s been instructing on Indigenous cuisine ever since. ‘There’s a reason why they’ve brought in an Aboriginal chef,’ he says. ‘I know the story.’ He knows the short history of Indigenous haute cuisine, in part because he’s been there since its dawning moment at the Culinary Olympics. Since 1992, George has been a culinary instructor for over 400 Indigenous students, and that’s a modest estimate. George has taught and cooked all over Canada, but Coast Salish territory – where Vancouver and its outflow of suburbs are situated – is where he’s lived and worked, mostly, since starting his culinary training in the early 80s.
George sets a glass jar of soapberries on the wooden tabletop. They are bright red and lustrous, like salmon roe. Rita canned the berries last summer. When whipped, she says, they foam up like soap. The thick froth is eaten as a dessert and is often called soapberry ice cream.
Every year Rita goes into the woods with her sister, brother and cousins to gather the berries, just as her people have done for thousands of years. Everyone knows that soapberries are most efficiently picked not painstakingly by hand, but with a little bit of gentle violence. A tarp or a pan is laid out on the ground beneath the shrub, which is also known as soopolallie or buffaloberry. They beat the branches and the ripe berries just fall right off. Rita has flown south from Smithers, from the Babine and Telkwa mountain ranges, to visit her son George in the city, but her thoughts drift to home, where the soapberries have ripened early. If she weren’t here she’d be out picking on the hillsides near her house.
Home, for the Georges, is the north-western central interior of British Columbia, a place where thimble berries and bunchberries grow beneath the canopies of spruce and subalpine fir. Rita is from the Bear Clan and like George, her third-born, she is a hereditary chief. She lives on the outskirts of Smithers in the foothills of the Babine Mountains, next to the Bulkley River, on a quiet road not far from Toody Ni – Wet’suwet’en for ‘where the hill faces the river’. Toody Ni is where Rita and her late husband built a small house, years ago, and raised their six children. She’ll be flying north, back to her home, in a couple of days. George and his mom have crossed this terrain by car and plane many times. He hopes to make it back for moose hunting in the fall.
Rita measures a tablespoon of the soapberries and drops it into a metal mixing bowl along with a tablespoon of water and a spoonful of white sugar. George’s wife Cecilia is in the kitchen cleaning up the last dishes from dinner. ‘Where’s that egg beater?’ Rita asks. Cecilia pulls it from a cupboard. When Rita was younger she whipped the soapberries by hand, which takes about ten vigorous minutes, roughly the same amount of time it takes to whip egg whites into a meringue by hand. Traditionally, the berries were whipped into a foam using a salal bough, thimbleberry leaves or a bundle of inner cedar bark. Several years ago the community held a soapberry ice-cream-making contest in which competitors had to beat the berries by hand. Rita took away first prize.
Over the whir of the egg beater, the colour changes. It shifts from crimson to a powdery pink. The mixture turns from liquid, to froth, to a thick foam. She switches off the beater. The foam has peaks like a stiff whipped cream. But on the tongue, the texture is much lighter, delicate. It tastes similar to currants, but more bitter, like cranberries or wild gooseberries. When eaten raw, straight from the branch, the bitterness is so intense that the soft, fleshy berries will make your tongue curl. George likes his soapberry ice cream with huckleberry juice, which he pulls out of the fridge.
Indigenous ingredients like the soapberry are staples in some Indigenous cuisines. But you won’t see soapberry foam or coulis or compote on any menu in Canada, because across this vast country, there are very few restaurants serving Indigenous cuisine. And these restaurants represent a vast increase in numbers over time – when George set out for the Olympics in 1992, Indigenous cuisine was almost invisible.
Getting Indigenous cuisine into restaurants is something George has been working at tirelessly since he started his culinary career. ‘I still have a hard time convincing people that there is an Aboriginal cuisine. They say, “Well, there’s no restaurants.” Just because you don’t see First Nations foods in restaurants doesn’t mean it’s not alive and well. We know how to cook our own foods. Aboriginal cuisine does exist.’
Part of the issue is that there is not just one Indigenous cuisine. Rather, there are Indigenous cuisines. Even the most notable European culinary traditions, like French cooking, were sculpted over time from different regional cuisines like Provençal, Lyonnaise and Bordelaise. In the same way, the notion of a unified Indigenous cuisine loosely collects an astonishing diversity of dishes, ingredients and cooking methods from hundreds of Indigenous nations and geographies.
For George though, the singular – ‘Indigenous cuisine’ – makes sense. And his three cookbooks spell out why. George’s recipes call for fiddleheads, butter clams, oolichan oil, seaweed, coho and sockeye salmon, herring roe, and grouse bones for stock. You’ll find a Plains Cree wild rice recipe on one page, and a Six Nations corn soup on the next. While George draws heavily from his Wet’sutwet’en background, he has made pilgrimages to Indigenous communities across the country – from Tofino to the Arctic Circle – to talk to elders about their recipes. He can trace a line across culinary traditions, from the
Wolastoqiyik to the Musqueam. For him, Indigenous cuisine means cooking from the land and the waters and the sky.
Like any other cuisine in the world, Indigenous cuisine is tied to place and is influenced by the trade routes that have passed through those landscapes. Think of Provençale cuisine – rich with tomatoes and eggplants and lemons and fragrant with rosemary and thyme and oregano, ingredients that grow on the hillsides and in the fields that stretch north from the French Riviera. Some of these ingredients are native to the area, and others have been imported – long ago or recently, over the course of immigrations and explorations and invasions – from distant fields and shores.
The first time I asked George why he thought Indigenous cuisine wasn’t more present was a few years ago, while we were drinking bottomless coffees in a suburban diner. He said, ‘I think it’s coming. I think there’s going to be a big wave coming.’ He tends to talk in surges. In the classroom, George teaches the foundational culinary skills using French techniques, the core of pretty much every chef-training program in the world, and he ties these classical teachings to Indigenous methods and ingredients. He wants to see his Indigenous students succeed in the Western education system, he says, but he wants them to marry that schooling with their traditional teachings. George admits that his approach to culinary teaching has gotten him accused of assimilation from some Indigenous people. ‘There’s still this leeriness of getting a Western education, this leeriness of a white man’s education,’ says George. ‘And it boils down to the residential school syndrome.’ He means the Canadian legacy of state-mandated assimilation, forced on generations of Indigenous children at church-run boarding schools. What has been officially referred to as ‘cultural genocide’.
Terroir, in Indigenous cuisine, is political, and has been ever since the Old World crashed into the New. George knows that the wounds are still healing. ‘You’re not being assimilated into the melting pot of chefs,’ George says. ‘You’re given an opportunity to have an identity. And that’s what Aboriginal food does for you. It identifies who you are.’
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Canadian cuisine is often conceived as a haphazard patchwork of Québécois- and English-heritage dishes, many of which involve European-origin ingredients. Poutine, donuts, Canadian bacon, the Nanaimo bar. But all of it was preceded by, and often built from, foods that are native to North America – like maple syrup, an Indigenous food staple that had been around for thousands of years before colonists tapped it for their own.
Today, in Canada, Indigenous cuisines are on the rise. Indigenous chefs are carving out more space for their recipes, in restaurants, menus and cookbooks. Alongside Andrew George are chefs like Shane Chartrand, who has said: ‘Indigenous cuisine, ultimately it’s Canadian cuisine. It’s our identity.’ Indigenous chefs will tell you that their dishes are Indigenous, not Canadian. With the plate, these chefs demonstrate that the food is the land, and that the land is still theirs.
On a cool and clear spring day, Chartrand was on Birch Island in the middle of Lac la Biche, Alberta, about 700 kilometers north of the American border, where he and fourteen other chefs had travelled for Cook It Raw. The chinook salmon he was standing in front of had been drying in the wind for days. Their silver skins caught the early October sun. When Chartrand cut into the red flesh and felt the resistance against his knife, he knew it was time to untie the salmon tails hanging from the rack made of aspen branches.
For the next week, Chartrand, a Cree/Métis chef with tattoo-covered arms, would try to forget about his executive chef duties at Sage Bistro (since rebranded as SC) on the Enoch Cree Nation’s reserve. In professional cooking, an invitation to Cook It Raw is one the most coveted prizes. The event isn’t a competition, but a coming together of the culinary elite to collaborate and innovate. Created and curated by Alessandro Porcelli, previous Cook It Raw gatherings have been held in places like Lapland and Copenhagen with heavy-hitter chefs like David Chang, Massimo Bottura, Alex Atala and René Redzepi in attendance. This year, Porcelli decided to hold the event in Chartand’s home territory.
Chartrand’s first job, like many chefs, was in the dish pit, where he was introduced to the rhythms of a professional kitchen. After tearing through a series of line-cook jobs, he signed up for culinary school and versed himself in classical techniques. Once he’d earned his chef whites, he worked his way up through kitchens before landing his role as executive chef. It was at Sage that he started to experiment by fusing his Indigenous roots with his culinary training. The pages of his notebooks are filled with recipe ideas like bison tartare, sage-infused elk, and quail legs with ‘war paint’ sauce. His approach in the kitchen, which he calls ‘Progressive Indigenous Cuisine’, earned him a spot on the Food Network’s Chopped and attention from the culinary top tier, including Porcelli.
Chartrand, who is working on his first cookbook, Marrow , is one of a handful of young Indigenous chefs who are building on classic culinary techniques – concasse, chiffonade, julienne – and, as Chartand says, ‘Indigenizing’ them.
On an overcast Friday in late April, about a year ago, at the opening of Anishinaabe chef Johl Whiteduck Ringuette’s restaurant NishDish in Toronto, diners were lined up on the sidewalk before the front door was even unlocked. Whiteduck Ringuette’s menu presents Three Sisters Soup, venison stew with sage, and Labrador tea made from the dark green leaves of a wetland shrub common in western Canada. (It’s said to be good for the lungs.) At Kukum (Cree for grandmother), which opened in Toronto shortly after NishDish, Haudenosaunee chef Joseph Shawana is known for his seal tartare, pickled cattail hearts, roasted elk and oysters served with a mignonette of sweet cedar tea brine. At Nikosi Bistro in Wakefield, Quebec, Métis restaurateur Wapokunie Riel-Lachapelle serves up a mélange of game meats, but it’s her drink list that stands out – a sprucey negroni with a reduction of evergreen tips and juniper berries, a bourbon and rum cocktail with maple syrup by the name of Colonial Blues, and The Bloody Patriot mixed with blackcurrant liqueur. She also stocks Coureur des Bois maple whiskey.
Then there’s Rich Francis. Four years ago, Francis became the first Indigenous chef to compete on Top Chef Canada – he cooked with a Haudenosaunee flag sewn to the sleeve of his white uniform. Tables for his recent pop-up restaurant, Cooking For Reconciliation, were fully booked. He served razor clams, bison tomahawk and braised sea lion (which tasted like a tender malty brisket), along with halibut wrapped in deep green moss and baked with the fronds and rhizomes of licorice ferns. At Salmon n’ Bannock, Nuxalk restaurateur Inez Cook has curated a menu of game charcuterie, wild rice risotto, cedar jelly and sage-blueberry preserves. Her restaurant might offer elk osso bucco one night, and on another, bison ribs and bone marrow served with bannock.
Back at Lac la Biche, the skies were clear and the air cool from the lake. Chartand had already prepped his Saskatoon berries. His bison bone marrow and suet were ready. It was time to pound the dried chinook down to make pemmican. He learns from the elders and knows the importance of following protocol when making dishes from different nations. He gathers this knowledge and ties it to his culinary training; he might sous-vide elk tenderloins or incorporate sage smoke with moose ribs. ‘I’m a chef and I can cook how I choose to cook,’ he says.
Still, authenticity can hang like a trap in the culinary world and Chartrand moves carefully around it. He knows that it’s there, a slippery concept. The notion of authentic cuisine, that there is a pure Indigenous food, an essential and true form, can constrict a chef as much as it inspires. Chartrand respects traditions and histories, and he knows that nothing is really authentic. Cuisines, like cultures, are not fixed in a distant past, but fluid and in motion like the lake at his back.
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In 1884, in an amendment to the Indian Act, the potlatch feast was banned. Up and down the west coast, the potlatch (from the Nuu-chah-nulth word paɬaˑč, ‘to give’) had been the foundation of social, political, legal, spiritual and economic systems. They established the rights to land, hunting grounds, berry patches and fishing areas. It was the means through which food and resources were redistributed, and cultural knowledge was transferred to future generations – and remains so despite the sixty-seven years during which it was illegal. Potlatches still mark marriages, memorials, naming of children, totem pole raisings.
Long ago, potlatches lasted for weeks and stretched out over the winter months. Chiefs and hosts invited hundreds of guests from neighbouring nations. Giant cedar welcome poles stood at the water’s edge, often with outstretched arms to greet the guests arriving by canoe. Visitors stepped onto the shores dressed in glistening woven cedar shawls, button blankets stitched with mother-of-pearl sequins, and hats woven from fine spruce roots and painted with family crests. Inside darkened longhouses sunbeams highlighted the smoke hovering near ceiling rafters. Elaborately carved dishes the size of coffee tables held moose head stew, whale meat and broiled seal. Sun-dried red laver seaweed was served alongside steamed highbush cranberry. The starchy bright white flesh of roasted camas bulbs, gathered from meadows carpeted by their purple flowers, were savoured for their sweet nutty flavour.
Colonial administrators and missionaries saw the sharing of food and wealth at potlatches as wasteful, but mostly they saw that the potlatch was at the centre of everything. They saw that potlatching was tied to culture, was culture, and it was getting in the way of their assimilation project. The potlatch ban lasted until 1951. Some defied the order and went to jail. Hundreds of potlatch items – carved copper shields, sacred masks, family heirlooms – were confiscated by Indian Agents and many were never returned.
A history of erasure, the violent scrubbing out of Indigenous culture, is central to colonization. Today, the invisibility of Indigenous cuisine and the claiming of Indigenous ingredients as ‘Canadian’ is a continuation of this history. Terra nullius, or ‘empty land’, was the enabling colonial concept of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. When settlers arrived on North American shores, Indigenous cultivation methods didn’t register in the European view, so the land was ‘empty’ for the taking. The European agricultural footprint was one of fences and roads and tree-clearing and cattle. The extensive Indigenous methods already in place in the ‘discovered’ land didn’t count. The rock-buttressed clam gardens, the coastal beds of springbank clover and silverweed, the pruning of hazelnut trees, the burning of alpine meadows and lowland prairies to promote the growth of roots and berries – none of this fit the European model. From their ships, settlers unloaded their pigs and cows and planted their potatoes in rows and tore up the gardens they could not see, or did not want to see, and planted their own.
‘The fat of the bear is just like pork,’ says Rita George.
We’re in Andrew George’s car, an old silver Chevy Malibu, driving east along the Fraser River on Highway 17. An eagle feather hangs from the rearview mirror next to a rose made from cedar bark.
‘Yeah, they taste like pork,’ says George. ‘The purest lard you can get is from the bear, but it depends what they eat.’
Traffic has slowed because of construction. Outside the car windows, cranes hoist steel culverts and concrete slabs.
George’s mother is describing the value and versatility of bear grease. ‘Eat that with dried salmon,’ Rita tells me. ‘Dip the dried salmon in it.’ She sighs, as if reminded of a craving.
Rita grew up eating bear. George did too, but waves of colonial settlement brought industrial development, resource extraction and environmental destruction that altered the landscape as well as the bears’ food sources. ‘They’re all around the dumps,’ says Rita of today’s bears. ‘And that’s why we don’t eat them, because of what they’re eating.’
‘Dried salmon was traded,’ says George from behind the steering wheel. ‘And, that’s where the grease trails came in.’
A member of the smelt family, the oolichan is a little silver fish about the length of a butter knife. Oolichan oil or ‘grease’ was transported along trade routes, or ‘grease trails’, that extended far beyond the watersheds where the fish were rendered into a silky oil. The oil was traded as far as the eastern foothills of the Rocky Mountains, a distance of roughly 1,500 kilometers. Oolichan grease was gifted and sold in communities up and down the coast; it was, and still is, a valuable currency for many coastal First Nations. ‘Yellow Gold’, ‘Dark Gold’, ‘Haisla Gold’, ‘White Gold’ and ‘Nass Gold’ are different types of grease made in villages along the Northwest Coast. It’s not uncommon of for an oolichan fisherman to use the language of karats to describe his oil’s hue. Many of the grease trails went on to become wagon roads, and many of the highways in the Northwest have been simply built on top of those routes.
Oolichan is sometimes referred to as the candlefish – it’s so oily that you can actually light it with a wick once it’s been dried. Among the Tsimshian, one of the names for oolichan is ‘hali’mootk’ which literally means ‘saviour fish’ or ‘salvation fish’. The oolichan return to the rivers to spawn at the end of the winter, even before the spring salmon runs, at a time when fresh food supplies were usually low. The arrival of the oolichan, in lean years, meant the difference between life or starvation. In Tsimshian territories the arrival of the fish was traditionally announced with the cry: ‘Hlaa aat’ixshl halimootxw!’ or ‘Our Saviour has just arrived!’
Fishermen guard their formulas for making the grease, but the process is more or less the same everywhere: the fish are fermented in big wooden tubs, mixed with water and boiled – the rendered fat is the oil. Some Haisla add hot rocks to theirs, an added step to purify the grease. Some Nisga’a keep the fires going and the oil bubbling for eighteen hours. Some ferment the fish for several days and others for nearly two weeks. Depending on the oolichan run and the cooking process, the oil takes on a different taste and a different shade of amber.
The fish are also smoked, air dried, pan fried, or battered and deep fried. They taste a bit like sardines, a dark oily fishy peaty flavor that hits you at the back of the tongue. One can almost taste the hemlock boughs dipping into the waters where the fish spawn, the cedars that drop their needles nearby. Many people butter their toast with it. But unless you have ties to one of the Indigenous nations who make grease, you will likely never get to taste it. Like so many Indigenous delicacies, it isn’t for sale. For those who make it, there is power in keeping it close to home. Oolichans are classified as endangered in every river system in Canada except the Nass and Skeena.
After George moved to Vancouver in the early 80s, his mother would pack up her car every fall with the fish, game and berries she had gathered and preserved with her late husband. ‘I used to load up my car with everything,’ says Rita. ‘All the moose meat, salmon and berries.’ She would then drive the jars one-thousand-plus kilometers and drop them off at George’s apartment in the city. ‘As a family, we’re very connected to the land. And it’s strong. It’s really strong.’
‘I think of home all the time,’ George says.
I ask George a question I’ve asked him many times, where he thinks Indigenous cuisine is headed.
‘We’re not going to be anywhere without our territories,’ he tells me. ‘The land back home has sustained us. Even though we live in the city, we still reach back like reaching back into the cupboard.’
Photograph of Andrew George, Jr. in his Native Canadian Haute Cuisine Team chef’s coat / Courtesy of Andrew George / © Mike Haimes & Associates Ltd.
The Tsleil-Waututh reserve faces the sea, has one main road, and is equal distance to the city (about twenty minutes to downtown Vancouver) and the wilderness (a half hour by boat up the Burrard Inlet to a forested shore). A mounted elk head, shot by the chief, overlooks the kitchen entrance. For the first time in over a century, the elk are back in Tsleil-Waututh territory and are being hunted again by the Nation.
‘When that frying pan heats up, you can go ahead and add the ground elk,’ George tells a group of Indigenous culinary arts students on a cloudy Tuesday morning in the middle of October. George is teaching a professional cooking course on the Tsleil-Waututh reserve. Knives and cutting boards, notebooks and metal bowls, and a recipe for spicy elk wraps from his cookbook Modern Native Feasts are laid out on the stainless-steel countertops.
‘When you see that the meat is starting to brown, add the minced garlic and ginger that you’ve prepped at your stations. Then you want to continue stirring it for another minute until it’s fragrant.’
George walks around the kitchen, Andrew George – Chef de Cuisine stitched above the left breast pocket of his chef jacket. He leans in and answers questions as he tours the room. The kitchen is heating up and someone has cracked open the side door. The smell of cool fall air mingles with the aromas that are now coming from the stoves: somewhere between ground beef and venison, rich and gamey.
In a few days, these students will graduate from the first level of the 28-week culinary program George has developed. The course teaches foundational culinary skills using French techniques and Indigenous methods and ingredients: smoking drying, brining, seaweeds, berries and game meats.
As George talks to the class, instructing them on the next steps for his recipe, I’m reminded of something he said that day when we were driving along the Fraser River with his mom: ‘It’s finally time for the Aboriginal peoples’ cuisine to make its presence in the world.’ Then he turned back to the elk and garlic coming together on the stove.

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