I spent my formative years on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. My husband had the considerable privilege of spending his in Brooklyn, London, and Paris. So given our innate snobbery about metropolitan living, it was with some reluctance that we moved to Hoboken, New Jersey, last fall. It was a case of an offer too good to refuse, so we didn’t refuse and resolved to make the very best of our new “city.”

The biggest hurdle of living in Hoboken is the psychological width of the Hudson River, which actually measures just shy of a mile between Chelsea and Hoboken. Of course, that psychology can only be attributed to cultural distinctions. The distance between most of Brooklyn and Queens is much greater than that between my apartment and the offices of Bullfrog & Baum and yet many people are perplexed at how I make the journey day-in and day-out.   

New Yorkers, that is “real New Yorkers” who hail from one of the five boroughs have long considered themselves to be inherently superior in every way to their neighbors in New Jersey, Connecticut, and even the rest of their home state.  There are some good reasons for this, all of which I needn’t outline here, but the main reason from my vantage point is the food in New York City. Could it be any better? More refined? More diverse? More exciting? More delicious? Probably not. Could it exist without its neighboring New Jersey? Probably not.

I always knew there was something of a symbiotic culinary relationship between the two states, but it wasn’t until I started working at Bullfrog & Baum that I really got the whole picture. In addition to the manufacturing and agricultural contributions to New York’s culinary prowess, there is a significant inventory of pure, unadulterated culinary talent reared in the Garden State. 

What do David Burke, Harold Moore (Commerce), Ed Brown (eighty one) and Brian Bistrong (Braeburn: coming soon) all have in common? Yep, you guessed it: they are all from New Jersey. And, of course, those are just the incredible New York City chefs who happen to be clients. Search outside of our strike-zone and you’ll note that Tom Colicchio, Anthony Bourdain and even Martha Stewart (sometimes she’s a chef) are all from the great Garden State, as well.

There’s something about Jersey. Now that I live there, I have begun to develop a very real appreciation for discovering the myriad hidden gems housed inconspicuously off the parkways and turnpikes that most New Yorkers associate with the neighboring “armpit.” For instance, the best dim sum I have ever had was in Fort Lee at Silver Pond, where they serve authentic dim sum in a bustling setting complete with lazy susans and over-packed fish tanks. The best hot dog ever tasted was at Clifton’s Rutt’s Hut. Not recommended for frequent consumption, their deep fried hot dogs topped with homemade relish are to die for. I have yet to experience Injera bread so soft and yeasty as at Montclair’s Mesob, where the cuisine of Ethiopia gets the refined treatment it deserves. I will never forget my favorite childhood journey to the Triangle Hofbrau in Wayne, where I was introduced to schnitzel, spaetzle, knockwurst and sauerkraut (sadly, the Triangle Hofbrau closed its doors last fall after nearly half a century and was replaced by one of the god-awful chains responsible for Jersey’s reputation as second rate; my heart aches).

There’s real adventure in eating in New Jersey. Sure, there are plenty of disappointments thanks in large part, to less competition and less-discriminating palates, but that’s the joy of discovery. You get burned, you keep trying. It’s easy to find a good meal on the island of Manhattan and getting easier all the time to do so in the outer boroughs. It’s not quite as easy on the other side of the river and that’s why my fair state can lay claim to such extraordinary culinary innovators. They were probably given lemons most of the time and they made lemonade… really, really good lemonade. And lucky for New Yorkers, they brought it to the Big Apple. 

What I am:

Reading         The Lost Ravioli Recipes of Hoboken by Laura Schenone 

Watching       “John Adams”

Listening to    “Andrew Bird & the Mysterious Production of Eggs”

Eating           Caramelized cauliflower with toasted pine nuts and black currants

It’s 2008. Dr. Atkins has passed, carbs have gone in and out of vogue and Americans have lost all regard for cholesterol levels.  It is shaping up to be the year of charcuterie.

In 2004 when BLT Steak opened in New York City, serving a few slices of bresaola, chorizo, speck and sopressata to start a meal was uncommon.  One of the hottest openings of 2008 is Bar Boulud, a shrine to meat products.  Daniel Boulud has opened an entire restaurant dedicated to the art of charcuterie with specialties created by Charcutier Sylvain Gasdon in the style of his mentor Gilles Verot.

For all the vegetarians out there, charcuterie (from either the French chair cuite, cooked meat, or the French cuiseur de chair, cooker of meat) is the branch of cooking devoted to prepared meat products such as sausage and confit, primarily from pork.  Since charcuterie can greatly extend the lifetime of meat through chemical preservation or curing, it is a means of using up various meat scraps that would have otherwise been wasted.

I am known lovingly in certain circles to transform a “bone, a packet of soy sauce, ten peas and a potato” into a meal for six.  This notion of letting no part go to waste appeals to my depression-era frugality (translation: I’m cheap).  So, after a couple of great meals at Bar Boulud, I thought I’d try this for myself. 

I’ve conducted a few interesting home experiments in the past – cheese (much more expensive to make than to buy), starter (a hunt for wild yeasts in the East Village air), fortune cookies (I have a cute bicep burn from a cookie sheet).  On to la charcuterie.

A friend of mine cooked a goose, and as my reward for supplying a roasting pan of sufficient size, I was gifted with a beautiful goose liver.  A little patience and some salt, white pepper, nutmeg and cognac (some for the pâte, some for moi) contributed to a very successful experiment.

I don’t presume to have mastered the art, but my experiment yielded a pretty solid product enjoyed in the office as a little afternoon snack.  I’m frugal, but I do like to share.  The cholesterol, that is.

A few great sites and spots to check out if you want to learn more or purchase some great charcuterie:

The Fatted Calf

Boccalone

D’Artagnan

Salumi Artisan Cured Meats