Pinkberry Buy One Get One Free!

Though up until this point I've managed to insulate myself from Manhattan's obsession with glorified frozen yogurt, Pinkberry's 2 for 1 deal just may break me down.

When I first moved to the city, I remember feeling slightly taken aback by the number of Pinkberry's I came across--not to mention all of its various copycats. From Red Mango and WildBerry to Yorganic and Yolato, this new wave of frozen yogurt franchises--with their endless penchant for portmanteau--seems to have done to the gourmet dessert market what Starbucks has done to coffee.

But I guess the overwhelming support for Pinkberry and the like shouldn't surprise me; in a city filled with the weight-conscious and health-obsessed, anything that's non-fat and non-sugared yet manages to still taste halfway decent is likely to be embraced.

So why haven't I joined in the frozen yogurt fanfare? It's not the concept I have a problem with--although, if I'm really craving something sweet, I'm more inclined to share a pint of Ben & Jerry's with Gus once every blue moon rather than buy a pricey cup of "green tea" flavored dairy paste that barely passes muster as yogurt.

Ok, maybe I do have a slight problem with the concept. But, on some level, I do understand the desire for a reasonably healthy (though admittedly, less enjoyable) dessert. Perhaps it's a knee-jerk reaction to cast off anything that's wildy popular, or maybe it was the dissapointment in finding out that these frozen yogurt places only offer a wimpy 2 or 3 flavors.

Though I have yet to pinpoint the issue, I am open to trying a cup to see what it's all about. And the coupon may just push me to be so adventurous. What are my readers' feelings about the frozen yogurt phenomenon? Are you a Pinkberry lover or hater?

Martinis: The Most Cost-Effective Cocktail

For all the thrifty drinkers out there, here's a tidbit for maximizing your bar tab: According to The Consumerist, you should be ordering a martini--"Alcohol-to-price, it's the best value out there."

This surprised me, for I always assumed the infamous Long Island Iced Tea claimed this category. With equal parts vodka, gin, tequila, rum and triple sec, thinly veiled by a few splashes of sour mix and cola, the LIT is embraced by many as a cost-effective way to get the job done.

Unlike the martini, however, the Long Island Iced Tea doesn't exactly scream sophistication or class, as evidenced by the popular college cheer "Let's get LIT tonight." (I can make fun of this because I used to be one of those people.)

But since I've graduated college, I guess it's time to graduate to the martini as well. No one really needs a drink with that many different types of alcohol anyway. And when else can you order something "dirty" and actually sound cool?

Cooking Weeknight Meals: Our Boldest Venture Yet

Attention readers: Gus and I have recently made a very important, life-changing vow: to cook dinner for ourselves during the week. And while this may not seem particularly ambitious to some, for us, this is perhaps one of the biggest challenges we have ever had to face together as a couple. What drove us to this monumental decision? Well, it was recently pointed out to us that, aside from our Saturday night ritual of cooking a meal together, we were on a borderline raw foods diet, barely eating anything hot, let alone a cooked meal covering more than two food groups. Our insistence on rarely eating out, while keeping our wallets padded, wasn't exactly doing the same for our tummies.

So we decided to do something about it. The game plan: Gus would cook dinner on Monday nights, in hopes that his faulty measuring would work in our favor to provide us with leftovers until Wednesday. Thursday nights would be our "crazy" night of ordering out, and I would take care of the weekends. We gave this plan its first test run last week, and I'm pleased to report that it worked out quite well. Monday night I came home to a table set with wine glasses and a steamy four-cheese gnocchi bake; It was one of the greatest homecomings I've ever had--a delicious hot meal waiting for me after class and a boyfriend with culinary skills. (This was the first time Gus ventured beyond scrambled eggs and angel hair with jarred tomato sauce, mind you.)

While we soon realized we forgot to factor "variety" into our plan--the gnocchi was getting a little old by the third night in a row--this was working out much better than our previous habit of random snacking. Though the rest of the week followed in an equally successful suit, it really dawned on me how difficult cooking can be--it requires a whole different mentality: Planning out meals, buying certain ingredients ahead of time, factoring in time and cost considerations--it seems obvious enough, but sometimes you don't fully realize how difficult something can be until you try to do it yourself.

In our case, Gus and I have to contend with various obstacles: a half-size refrigerator, limited cabinet space, lack of a freezer, lack of culinary skills, and erratic schedules, to name a few. Sometimes, it seems as if some higher being simply doesn't want us to eat--or at least eat sufficiently well. I know this seems silly in a city brimming with Zagat-rated restaurants, but it's not so silly for busy people with limited funds.

Yet we are determined to make this work, and I am now on the hunt for simple, quick recipes with few and inexpensive ingredients. (I will probably be watching a lot of Clara videos in my downtime.) So I urge you, my readers, to share your favorite recipes that fit this criteria--for me and all of my over-worked, ill-equipped, and underfed brethren.

The Best-Valued Bread Basket in NYC

Perhaps we were inspired by the welcomed Spring-like weather, or perhaps we just needed a change from our ritual Sunday morning scrambled eggs; either way, this morning, something provoked Gus and I to embark on our first official Manhattan brunch. That's right, we've been living in the city since August and the closest we've come to "brunch" was walking to the end of our block in search of a hangover cure at Moonstruck diner.

This morning, we walked a little further--all the way to Gramercy in fact. Our destination? Friend of a Farmer, a country farmhouse-style café decidedly at odds with the rest of Manhattan. Designed to replicate the owner's upbringing in a small farming town in upstate New York, Friend of a Farmer exudes old-fashioned warmth and coziness--to the point where it wouldn't surprise me to learn that a set designer from Universal Studios had a hand in decorating the restaurant space.
From the stone hearth to the yellowing flowered wallpaper, Friend of a Farmer has put careful consideration into making its customers forget that they're in fact sitting in the heart of one of the world's largest cities. Hanging antique kitchenware. Wooden paneling lined with rows of jarred grains. A thoughtfully placed rooster here and there. While such a bold venture has the potential to go terribly awry, the genuine quality of their food keeps Friend of a Farmer from becoming too hokey; Once you bite into your first square of complimentary cornbread, you start growing fond of your waiter's flannel uniform, and you decide to try the apple butter after all. Suddenly, you find your New York City skepticism giving way to good humor, and you melt into the ambiance; you see, it's the food that binds everything together.
And while Friend of a Farmer isn't cheap, the portion-sizes, richness, and unique-factor of their meals make eating there a good value. My recommendation for ordering on a budget? If you're going there for breakfast or brunch, start with a french-press coffee ($3.75). Robust and velvety, it's the perfect morning caffeine jolt. And your own personal press will yield about three mugs full.
I also highly recommend sharing the assorted bread basket with a couple of friends. This is perhaps one of the best deals the restaurant has to offer: You get two pieces each of banana, zucchini, honey whole-wheat, and the richly dense and sweet iced lemon loaf (can you tell that one was my favorite?) all for $7.95. The bread has that wholesome, homemade taste; the smell alone convinces you it was certainly kneaded by a grandmother's practiced hands and baked in a stone hearth. It is also extremely filling, and the leftovers would make for a nice afternoon treat or convenient breakfast.

Would I go back to Friend of a Farmer? You bet. It's a nice retreat from the modern sleekness of the city, and it promises to have a nostalgic quality, even for those who never lived in the country or visited a farm. The food is comforting and hearty, and where else can you get omelets served in a skillet? It's an experience, and a tasty one at that.

Location: 77 Irving Place (btw 18th & 19th)
Price Range: $4.95- $15.95 (brunch)
Full Menu