She said [He said]: Camaradas el Barrio

With its chill atmosphere and great music, I am definitely a fan of Camaradas el Barrio (115^th and 1^st Ave). As Skip and I geared up for our meal, I couldn't wait to sample a new set of wonderful goodies I had not been so adventurous to try previously. Irrrrk! Screeching sound! Halt! Wonderful for the carnivores, not so much for the veg heads like me. (Now I remember why I’ve only had one thing on the menu.) I'll admit that I'm mixed, more veg than omni, and, to be fair, it is true that Puerto Rican cuisine is meat-dominated. But my city ways sometimes assume the world should cater to me, right? In the past, Camaradas Sangria has been a featured item, and the food ... not so much. Tonight, however, it was front and center and the rest was a mixed bag of nuts.

We started with the root and vine chips, which were a mix of yuca, battata and plantain. They were a bit too hard for my taste, and the radish sauce tasted like creamy ketchup. Not impressed, but still ate my fair share sans dip. The half platter finally arrives (after a very long wait, and much discussion over sold-out items). It must be noted that every time I go to this spot they are out of something, whether it be the veggie pastelillos or the new featured sangria. The consistency is definitely lacking.

[The radish dip was a big disappointment. When we ordered, I expected spicy and creamy, not insipid clawing sweetness. Something akin to biting into a fresh radish, not Thousand Island dressing. To be fair, it did compliment the spicy yuca.]

This particular sampler, priced at $12.50 is a great deal for two, and the romantic setting makes it a great date item. The sampler includes a mix of four menu items, providing the opportunity to try a good chunk of Camaradas' offering. The pastelillos, which is a fried meat or vegetable patty similar to an empanada, was divine. It was fried just right and the filling was scrumptious. [I found them to be the most interesting item on the platter; The chorizo and shrimp skewers were enjoyable, but somewhat flat. Not much going on. The pastelillo filling on the other hand had a good mix of spices and begged for the deep frying.]

The chorizo (yes, I had a bite) was great, excellent [smoky] flavor and perfectly charred. Have you ever had fried mozzarella sticks? Here their called croquetas [and look more like McDonald's hash browns than mozz. sticks]. They did the job, but were very plain. However, they were accompanied by a perfectly well balanced garlic sauce that more than made up for it. [Plain? Even with the mild garlic sauce, they were like black holes of blandness.] If you're on the afore mentioned date, I’d pass on the sauce. The shrimp skewers - fantastic! What a way to cook a shrimp. They had a faint sweet and tangy flavor. Slightly charred, they came unaccompanied and didn't need a chaperon whatsoever.

Drinks? Red wine sangria of course. The taste is the refreshing combination of bite and juice. I am a fan of their sangria because it is a great deal and so home-grown. The fruit is undesirable, which is unfortunate because who doesn’t like a little wine infused orange. But the balance more than makes up for the repetitiveness of green apples. [The beer selection was also quite good. I accompanied my meal with a Brooklyn Six Points.]

Inconsistent service, a hit-and-miss menu, and picky vegetarians aside, Camaradas scores due to the decent priced menu, and unique ambiance. [I'd be a regular if I weren't moving. The atmosphere, sangria, and reasonable prices were enough to keep me going back. I only wish they hadn't been out of vegetable and chicken pastelillos, northern and southern alcapurrias, and chorizo croquetas. Mind you, this was 7pm on a weeknight.]

She said [He said] is a new feature where two or more Gourmetros eat out and discuss. In this case, it was Skip and Butter (our shiny new SpaHa correspondent) Have any recommendations? Let us know.

[when it rains, it rains pulled pork from heaven]

Aside from Danny Meyer's annual Backyard Barbecue, I've been underwhelmed by the NYC 'cue scene. People make a big deal about Dinosaur, but I really don't see it. RUB, righteous Urban Barbecue, is another animal altogether. So to speak.

After a botched Shake Shack trip (who closes early on a Saturday?), Greg decided to take the five of us to RUB. We made the three avenue trek still reeling with disappointment from being denied salty fatty shaky goodness (but mostly the custard).

We were seated quickly and ordered the Taste of the Baron ($45), an eight-meat sampler with two sides, and some Blue Moons. Out of the meats, the pulled pork was the stand-out winner: tender, supple, and none-too-greasy. Since my 'cue background comes from Virginia, I am used to pre-sauced meat. Early saucing makes sense; it tenderizes and infuses the meat with its tangy juices. RUB's sauces --original, spicy, vinegar, and ... garlic? -- come on the side, and compliment the meat so well we were glad to mix and match instead of committing to just one.

I went back with Marc a few weeks later for the three-meat platter (with two sides, $22.75). The pulled pork, spicy sausage, and beef brisket passed the test again, and the former still trounced the others. The sawdust-dry brisket was the only disappointment. Both times. I'm excited to try the burnt ends (the fatty part of the brisket), but I wouldn't try the regular brisket again. The baked beans and shoe string onion rings rock, and the cole slaw, forgettable.

The TotB filled all of us (see picture, above), and the deep fried Oreos were about as good as any dessert I've eaten at a bbq joint. RUB's good eatin'.

Thanks to Eric for the awesome shots.

The Afterglow: The Doughnut Plant

The Doughnut Plant has haunted us Gourmetros for too long. Two weeks ago, we'd had enough of hearing rave reviews, so we trucked down from SpaHa to see for ourselves whether these were indeed gifts from some benevolent yeasty/cakey doughnut god. We tried to get down there sooner, we really did, but the Plant's schedule and LES locale kept us from their fatty comestables. Oh, and the other motivating factor was a Food Network Throwdown: if the place has a FN special, it's either jumped the shark, or it's buzz-proof.

Between the two trips, we sampled the following cake and yeast-risen 'nuts: Tres Leches, Chocolate Blackout, Triple Chocolate, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Raspberry Filled, Valrhona Glazed, Strawberry Glazed, and Coconut Cream.

Our feelings about the yeast and cake run along the lines of Ed Levine's reaction last fall. The cake 'nuts were remarkable on both occasions; the Tres Leches' delightfully moist cake, thin ribbon of filling, and crisp glaze made for a truly killer baked good (pictured: right). One of these every morning for the rest of our lives would make us happy (if fat) individuals. These guys achieve a near-perfect balance in the sweetness/texture fields. If the Tres Leches or Blackouts had been treated like a [blech] Dunkin' style filled doughnut (disk-shaped, lake of filling) they would have been far too sweet.

The yeast doughnuts, however beautiful, lacked in every possible way (with one exception). We were shocked at how a seemingly light doughnut could be so tough, chewy, bland and overpowering. The Valrhona glazed was bland (pictured: bottom); the PB&J, chewy and bo-ring (we may as well have just eaten a sandwich...); and strawberry glazed was waay too sweet.

Thankfully, the Coconut Cream yeast-risen doughnut blew the other yeasties out of the water: it was blessed with nuanced coconut flavor, a spot-on cream-to-bread ratio, and it wasn't too tooth-achingly sweet (though it toed the line on that one). The key to the yeast doughnuts, we think, is timing. If we ever get there early, we'll give them another shot.

In the end, the cake doughnuts were some of the best things we've ever put in our mouths. Leave their yeast-risen brethren to the seething hordes of Food Network gastrotourists.

The Afterglow is a reoccurring feature where Gourmetros visit buzzworthy places a bit after the buzz. Call us lazy if you must, but we just want to find out for ourselves if the places were ever worth it.

For more delicious doughnut shots, check out our Flickr account.

First Bite: FR.OG

So, media night at the new kirsh/virot FR.OG. Some food and drinks were served while guests were given a chance to wander around before tomorrow's real opening. There's been a quite a bit of buzz surrounding this opening, with some dating back to summer 2006.

The food and drink skewed toward Moroccan and Asian. Waiters passed spiced scallops with peanut sauce, pork egg rolls, herbed cucumber/tomato skewers, and tomato soup. Herbal flavors like basil, cardamom and anise dominated each (with the exception of the tomato soup, which, as you might expect, was dominated by tomato). The drinks were similarly themed, with a lychee ginger/rosewater (gin) martini, and a beautifully spiced FR.OG (vodka) martini with cardamom, star anise. Both were good, but the latter rocked: pleasant aroma, good mouthfeel (though it tasted more early-winter than mid-spring).

Adjacent to Spring Street Natural, the space is an often interesting mix of modern and traditional, but is ultimately disappointing. Don't get me wrong, well-placed design elements like the Moroccan-patterned frosted glass, shadow-throwing Asian lanterns, and a mirror-mosaic spiral staircase hold together the modern French colonial theme, but those effects are mostly lost in a great white sea of empty wall and ceiling. The smaller room downstairs has a chill, loungy feel but much of it is lost because of the feet of nearly-white wall - a lower ceiling would have served them well; they could help cut the lost space by draping a translucent patterned fabric from the ceiling (as they do on the walls).

According to a waiter, it seats 105 (close to 50 in the main room, some at the bar, and 30 to 40 downstairs).

Cold morning, City Bakery Hot chocolate.

Kimberly, sitting in the City Bakery, holding her cup of hot chocolate with homemade marshmallow:
[sips] Oooh.
[pause, sips] Oooh.
[pause, sips] Oh, my God.
[pause, sips] Wow.

-

I sit in front of my pretzel croissant, fruit-nut muffin, and cup of the same and am relieved. Completely relieved, since I'd promised a memorable breakfast and it's a drizzly, cold, early morning.

The rest of the meal goes mostly along those lines. We sit, catch up and take in the awesomeness. The hot chocolate, drinking chocolate, really, is an intense warm, thick, cocoa-y consistency. Instead of rose water Swiss Miss, this chocolate feels as if the bakery had melted a bar of milk chocolate right into our cups. The marshmallow is a bit overly sweet and vexingly dense (it never melts, just sits, iceberg-like, on the molten surface).

Pretzel croissants, to me at least, are the star of the pastry show at City Bakery. Kimberly's chocolate croissant and my fruit-nut muffin (which may have contained apples, cranberries, raisins, and possibly, pecans) were all right, but the pretzel croissants are what keep me coming back. They really do blend the best of both of their namesakes - the flakiness of a croissant and the salty pretzel chew.

I love the City Bakery for early morning breakfasts, but need to get there before it gets crowded (by 9 a.m.). Between 7 and 8:20 it's peaceful.

The Afterglow: S'Mac

Ever since S'Mac opened last summer in the East Village, I'd been dying to try it out. It was buzz city, for sure; there was great press, there was good press, and then there was the mac'n'cheese backlash. (And after it all NBC chimed in with some good press; it's a relief to know they're on top of things ...)

And I would have gone sooner; I must have tried over a dozen times. Each time was the same: talked to an eating partner, they agreed, we set a date, then they'd cancel.

Finally, Liz and I felt sufficiently driven to give it a shot last week. The smallish room was crowded for 8pm on a Sunday, and and the radiant heat from the cast iron pans did well by cutting through the early spring chill. She chose the 4-cheese, I went with the Cajun, and we both opted for the bread crumb topping.

The 4-cheese was quite bland and almost too runny, but the Cajun spicy/creamy combo did the job very nicely. I ended up making two meals out of the medium portion size, Major Munch.

Overall, it wasn't the best mac n' cheese I'd ever eaten but it was a strong contender. I will be back, but only when I feel a crushing need to fill myself on cheese and carbs.

The Afterglow is a reoccurring feature where Gourmetros visit buzzworthy places a bit after the buzz. Call us lazy if you must, but we just want to find out for ourselves if the places were ever worth it.

Convey to me the sushi please!

In light of my recent conversation with skip, I will attempt to be prodigious rather than overly verbose with my postings. As a quick reference point, I am the aforementioned Russian co-worker of skip's. As I was recently browsing tasting menu I noticed a page discussing the philosophy of the site's adventurous eater, and an interesting claim was made. The author claimed that main courses are pure evil because no matter how astoundingly good a dish may be, that thrill deteriorates and is subject to the law of diminishing returns with every bite. I quickly realized just how appealing this makes a cuisine which is already one of my very favorites, sushi. I warn, east restaurant, is not for the sushi snob because it is not an ultra serious place for sushi, yet it provides a fun atmosphere and eating experience and the sushi is a great buy if you consider bang for the buck. This place is extra special because the downstairs has a sushi conveyor belt, as opposed to the upstairs which includes traditional Japanese seating as well as Karaoke. The sushi chef's are stationed in the middle of the restaurant, and the sushi, upon completion is put on a small plate and sent out on the conveyor belt which winds it's way around to all the tables. The plates on the conveyor belt are of varying colors and patterns, each being a different price, indicated on the price guide posted at every table. At the end of your meal, the plates are collected and your bill is tallied! There are a few good things to know about this place, you can ask for a menu which contains a greater selection than on the conveyor belt which is than brought to your table on the same colorful plates, this is a GREAT date place ( read..low lights, music, great conversation starter), the drink deals are great ( try the sake lime/apple, or the huge mug-o-beer), my favorites are the pepper shrimp roll, mackerel ( saba), and asari jiru ( clam soup)



















Technorati Tags: Food, sushi, japanese, New York Restaurant

No, it was more like a beefy Loufah

At about 1 a.m. a month ago, Greg my Russian co-worker declared that we were going out to dinner. Since I'd brought my lunch, as per usual, I was not immediately excited. We talked about it and eventually decided that the best thing to do with our mandatory 60-minute 3 a.m. "lunch" break was to go down to K-Town (Korea Town). I was skeptical. When I think Korean, I think raw meat bucket a la Lost In Translation. Greg and Eric assured me it wasn't like that at all and followed that up by asking me if I liked spicy things. Another negative mark. I explained that I liked spicy things fine enough, but not spicy for the sake of spicy. Kimchi (a spicy Asian cabbage), as I knew it, wasn't just a little spicy. It was melt-your-face spicy, and that wasn't what I wanted at 3 a.m.

They convinced me I wouldn't be sorry, and we ran to Greg's car. Gahm Mi Oak was moderately populated, medium-lighted and full of tasteful Asian decor. Everybody but us was Asian (that's usually a good sign). I had planned on deferring to the other two, since they know Korean, but I ended up choosing a pork pancake. Greg ordered us a meat platter with scallions and a communal-type rice bowl called bibimbap, as well as a bottle of soju (basically Korean vodka, though not as strong - 20% alcohol by volume).

Shortly thereafter, we got a round of complimentary side dishes, including a surprisingly fresh and mild kimchi, long green peppers with mung bean paste, and a watery, gross, cloudy beef broth. Eric raved about the kimchi, and I agreed. The crunch is similar to a watery celery and the spice level between mild and moderate Indian food, with a heavy taste of ginger, garlic and chili. All the same, though, I wouldn't have wanted to eat a whole bowl of it. The green pepper, which I was trying to avoid, was also much milder than I'd expected, but I only ate the bottom part (before the seed area). The mung bean paste was salty and ... munghy.

Oh the meat platter. It landed on the table and I was shocked by the pile of of greyish-white tripe (it has something to do with bovine stomach lining), and Greg joyfully pointed out cow tongue. What is the rest? I asked. He was confused. I clarified, wanting to know what else beside tripe and tongue was on the plate. Just regular beef. That was a relief. I've been enamored with the idea of tripe since I first started getting excited about food. An editor at one of the placed I've worked whose opinion I hold in high regard likened tripe (which he said with a disgusted look) to tasting like wet dog with a cottony mouthfeel. You could just keep chewing forever. Not appealing, but still. I tried the tripe, which was described by Eric as middling, and it was incredibly chewy (more like a loufah than cotton) but the taste was essentially more bovine than canine. I chewed on it for a while and then gagged it down. I only had one piece of it. It tasted like essence of beef. The texture was pretty rough, though.

The tongue wasn't memorable. Tough, I think. Beefy. And the 'regular' beef was forgettable.

The pork pancake was positively delightful; quite similar to a potato pancake with pork and all sorts of vegetables. It was further improved with the addition of kimchi.

And the bibimbap was also great; all of these things were perfect for a first time Korean eater. I'd get the same things if I went back (when I go back).

Finally, the soju. We started off with a shot. Ours was distilled from sweet potatoes, barley, wheat, tapioca, and some other stuff. It tasted slightly sweet with a light vodka mouthfeel. They drank most of the rest. Since it was the middle of the night and we still had 4 hours left, I didn't care to drink any more than that.

And we made it back in one hour and five minutes. Not bad for a meal of that size and scope.


Technorati Tags: Food, Asian, New York City, Tripe
Special thanks to Chewy Chua, Lynn in Tokyo, and Quasimondo, respectively, for the pictures.

First Bite: BRGR

There's been a lot of buzz about brgr, a new Chelsea burger joint, and I think it's well deserved. The patties are similar to the Shake Shack, but they're more expensive (mine was about $8), a bit tougher, and not quite as salty. The creative preparations and quick service will get my burger-eating face back down there in short order.

I got the beef burger with avocado, raw onion, and Gruyere. It tasted the part, but I was somewhat disappointed by the cheese; I'd expected more bite from the Gruyere. It was its normal nutty self, but didn't do much else.

A lot of people have been talking about brgr. Mostly positive stuff, a few negative. OOH, and a burger list from NY Magazine.


Special thanks to Alaina B. over at flickr for the photo.

Pork You in the Mouth

I knew there was one thing that had to happen on my last day of work at the now-closed headquarters of the New York Museum of Water, and that thing was Number Six. Number Six was introduced to me a few months before while walking down 10th Avenue after work with my friend Mary. She pulled half of a gigantic sandwich wrapped in white butcher paper out of her bag, took a bite, then held it up to my face and said “Open up, I’m gonna pork you in the mouth.” And she did.

If the sound I made when Number Six was shoved into my mouth seemed a little dirty, it was not in response to her suggestive way of offering me a bite, but to the huge fragrant mouthful of pork I was chewing. Number Six is a stack of sliced cold roast pork tenderloin (complete with pepper- and herb-encrusted edges) stuffed with tomato, plenty of arugula and just enough horseradish sauce to flavor the fresh, flour-dusted bread from the picturesque wooden shelf behind the counter of Bottino’s trendy take-out annex in west Chelsea.

The lunch line at Bottino’s is never short, but the scenery is almost as delicious as the sandwiches. It’s a very popular spot with the local gallery crowd (encouraged by conforming to their Tuesday through Saturday schedule), whose experiments in style make up for the lack of decor in the tiny, fashionably bare storefront. Unfortunately, the food is also at gallery prices. Seven to ten bucks for a sandwich, salad, or lasagna buys you a lunch of super-fresh premium ingredients that almost make it worth the dollars. It becomes more economical for those of us who can make two meals out of one sandwich, which, unless you are extraordinarily hungry, is usually not an act of restraint.

During my time in that neighborhood I tried at least half of their sandwiches, a few salads, soups-of-the-day, cookies, lasagnas, and creatively flavored homemade lemonades, but the only thing I would go all the way back there for is Number Six on olive bread. Still, if you’re in the neighborhood looking for a sandwich and not a big fan of getting porked in the mouth, the only thing I wouldn’t recommend is the eggplant. Definitely try the lemonade, and no matter what you get, make sure you have some of the bread with it. Also, this is definitely a place for regulars, so pay close attention to the flow of traffic or you may get bypassed.

Really, though, the point here is not to celebrate this particular restaurant, but to celebrate the mighty engineering of the sandwich known as Number Six. Since that day when Mary first porked me in the mouth I have eaten at least thirty Number Sixes and passed on the porking to friends, co-workers, even my Mom, to which Mary said “You porked your Mom in the mouth.” Yes I did, and she liked it.


Technorati Tags: Food

Nourishment for my Sleep-addled Brain

On Wednesday I decided that the best way to spend the three or four hours between my night and day job by going out to a nice breakfast. After choosing the Franklin Station Cafe only to find it closed, I walked down West Broadway to Petite Abeille, a quaint Belgian cafe/pub.

Writing this, I'm not sure why the eight different waffle options didn't set off any number of warnings (um hello: belgian restaurant = waffles). No, my sleep-addled brain reasoned that omelettes would be the best choice (protein, go for the protein).

The omelette Ardennaise, with its bacon, mushroom, spinach and onion, along with a pan au chocolat and an Awake tea kept me going all day long (though an intensely boring but easy party full of bankers). Everything was as it was supposed to have been. The mashed carrots/potato 'stoemp' was a welcome starchy addition to the meal.

The atmosphere rocked, very European: chalkboard, lots of beer, Europeans behind the bar, blue checked tableclothes, big tubes of sea salt on the tables, etc. I would totally go back Monday nights for Belgian beer night but it would probably be full of ... financial types. Or politicians. Either way, not my scene. Even regular old people wouldn't work out.

Special thanks to Kenyee over at Flickr for the picture. It isn't an omelette, but it's pretty (and taken at the Petite Abeille). Isn't it?
Technorati Tags: Food, Belgium, Restaurant, Omelette

Eating in SpaHa (First in a series)

It's been about three weeks since I moved to Spanish Harlem and I've finally started to get out and eat here.

Patsy's Pizzaria
1312 2nd Ave

Like a first kiss, Patsy's will always have a special spot in my heart. Their 69th and 2nd restaurant was the only place I'd eat when I came to New York City before I lived here. The copper ceiling, the same eastern European waitress every time, the crispy, crunchy, basil and mozzarella-covered paper-thin pies.

Anyway, I never thought I'd have cause to go to the 118th and 1st Avenue location, but now that it's 3 minutes away I imagine I'll be going frequently. This Patsy's, I discovered is different from the others.

It's a lot more like a regular old pizza place than the downtown Patsies. No copper ceilings, no eastern European servers, no basil/mozz; just plain old awesome pizza. It was fitting that I went to this Patsy's with Marc, the guy who introduced me to Patsy's in the first place all those years ago.

The pies are $11, which puts them about $3 to $5 cheaper than the other Patsy's locations, so we started off with some absolutely killer calimari (note: on a subsequent trip with Amy, they were even better). The thin, crispy crust exhibited slight floppiness.

Haven't tried the real food yet but I will. Oh will I ever.

Orbit
2257 1st Ave

This one came highly recommended by our broker and our first almost-landlord and Liz and I decided to go there for her birthday. Relaxed, dark atmosphere, good waitstaff, standard cocktails.

I got the Chicharron de Pollo (chicken marinated in Rum and garlic then fried in a light batter) and it was dry and unimpressive. The sweet plantains and corn and even the broccoli were, on the other hand, quite good.

Liz ended up choosing penne with a spicy vodka sauce, which she loved.

For dessert we got a bomba (molten chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream) and bread pudding. I was skeptical of the latter and Liz outright said that after her summer in the deep south knew she wouldn't like it. The only other choice on the dessert menu was an apple crisp. Anyone can make a decent apple crisp and it tastes, well, like an apple crisp, so we boldly tried the bread pudding.

The apple-studded dulce-de-leche drizzled bread pudding rocked my world and molten chocolate cake, lived up to its gooey, chocolatey potential.

I'll go back.

Many thanks to Slice over at flickr for the pizza. They have a popular NY pizza blog too.

Buns of Steam

Ever since I first partook of the steamed pork buns at Momofuku—light, doughy and stuffed with perfectly tender Berkshire pork—they’ve been on my short craving list. After sampling similar wares at a few other Asian spots, I could safely say no one else could touch those buns.

Then, lo and behold, New York magazine raved about Tribeca newcomer Province, even going so far as to compare its mantou bread sandwiches to the steamy excellence at Momofuku. New York hasn’t steered me wrong yet, so we headed down to Tribeca for a “cheap date night” with high expectations.

Province (305 Church St., 212-925-1205) is easy to miss among the trendy cafes populating this stretch of Church, but while seated at the window we noticed plenty of intrigued looks on the faces of worker bees passing by. The sparse design is a bit IKEA meets diner, with unadorned cement floors and blond wood benches with odd, Swiss cheese-looking “privacy” walls. It was pretty empty on the Wednesday evening we visited, but the staff was friendly and efficient.

Not knowing how large the sandwiches would be, my friend ordered two—spicy pork ($3.75) and braised pork shoulder ($3.75)—and I chose the pork shoulder and side salad with ginger dressing. In short order, the buns arrived wrapped in wax paper and still steaming. Unlike Momofuku, Province’s buns are sprinkled with black sesame seeds and the mantou isn’t quite as light and doughy, but it is still slightly chewy and with one “déjà vu” bite I knew I’d found another craving. The pork shoulder, seasoned with just the right amount of sauce to avoid a mess, was a tender affair layered with thinly sliced pickled cucumbers. The spicy pork was a little perkier in taste with a dash of hoisin, but I preferred the sliced texture of the shoulder over the traditional pulled pork. One sandwich left me wanting a little more, so next time I will probably split a second or just indulge in two all to myself. At these prices, it’s not the worst thing I could do.

Oh yeah, and plan to head over to Province early--it closes at 7:30 pm.

Technorati Tags: Food, Asian Cuisine, NYC

I'll take my fried chicken dirty, thankyouverymuch.

I've been thinking of a title for this post for about a week and couldn't come up with anything that would be even remotely acceptable for the connotations inspired by The Dirty Bird To-Go, the NYC's newest take-out free-range authentic double-dipped buttermilk-fried chicken shack.

The Bird has gotten an incredible amount of press since its opening earlier this year (some of the most hype/square foot I've seen; pretty much on par with the Shake Shack). Perhaps the best recommendation for it came while I was speaking with some Southern Living editors; I mentioned New York soul food and they immediately started prolificating about DBT-G. And the best part was that none of them had even been there (for all you non-Southern Living readers, the mag is based in Birmingham, Alabama). Anyway, so hearing Southerners completely rapt about fried chicken, fried chicken from the godless North no less, they hadn't even tasted, I knew I needed to head down to 14th St. and partake.

Two weeks ago a Southern friend of mine and I gave it a shot and DAMN it was mighty fine. After some chicken fingers v. 2-pc fried debate, my friend decided on the latter, with a side of mac 'n cheese, and I myself went for the 4-pc fried with two sides - mac 'n cheese and the napa cabbage cole slaw.

Each basic element of fried chicken was not only having a party in my mouth, they were all examples of how fried chicken is done. Every bite had the perfect crunch and aroma of buttermilk dipped batter, the salty juiciness of brine, and a most tender chicken-y texture. The scallion cornbread was good, the mac 'n cheese fine, and the napa slaw got an unenthusiastic 'yeah whatever'.

Four pieces was way too much, but if I'd only gotten two I never would have picked any white meat Typically dusty, dry and tasteless, I was not about to spend my 14 hard-earned dollars on a longshot. To say that it was incredibly moist and tender would be an understatement, so I'll just say that I may only get white meat there in the future.

There's no feeling in the world quite like being stuffed with fried chicken. Mmmm fat.

And here are some synopses of what some other people have said Bird:
We love it, we hate it - New York Magazine
Greatness in the making - Eater
And of course, everyone else at eGullet.

Technorati Tags: Food, Restaurant, NYC, Fried Chicken

Caffeine, however tasty, devistates my fine motor skills.

All right, so it was about 9pm. I had an hour before work, had just eaten some salty delicious Dumpling Man fare, and my stomach wasn't taking it well. My night job, disassembling computers and extracting various bits and pieces, certainly takes a toll on my daytime comfort.

Anyway, in my dumpling-induced haze, I figured a nice cappuccino would set me along a happy path for the evening. Since I was already down on the Lower East Side, I set out looking for a cool crepe place that Meg, Joanie and I found earlier this spring but instead found MUD.

The Arcade Fire was on the radio and a very drunk FOB (friend of the Barrista) was lobbying for a switch to Abbey Road (She's so Fine, in specific.). It felt more like a campus coffee shop than a hip New York one and that fit me just fine. Back to the coffee. A few months ago, I read somewhere that there are a number of things you should look for when you're evaluating well-made espresso and cappuccino. It would be awesome if I could remember where, but my mind is more like a blender than a tabbed file system. But I digress.

When the milk is getting steamed, it should hardly make any noise at all. The writer likened screaming Starbucks steamers to the milk getting noisily killed. Ceramic cups are a must. Crema, the delicate coffee foam on top of an espresso. And, finally, milk art. The ability to make neat designs in the steamed milk and the attention to detail that it imparts is the final touch.

Mud had all of this. I drank it without sugar (unheard of for me).

Unfortunately, since I drink caffeine so infrequently it kicked the crap out of me. I was incredibly jittery for hours. My stomach did feel better though.

[Earlier that day I had an entertaining lunch at the Nice Matin with the current executive editor of The Flat Hat (you knew I had to link that one) and then visited some ex-coworkers.

I felt some serious pressure to get the Five Napkin Burger (complete with sauteed onions, comte cheese, and aioli), while my colleague got the croque madame. While I needed only one napkin to complete the burger, it was nonetheless quite impressive. Not stellar, but far above standard.]


Special thanks to mcmrbt over at flickr for the photo.
Technorati Tags: Food, Coffee, Restaurant, New York

The Great ... no, the Awesome Jones Cafe

After everything I'd heard about the Great Jones Cafe, the last thing I was expecting when Meg and I walked through the doors last weekend was a Southern-style roadside shack. (I use the word shack lightly; shack-chic might be a bit better as a descriptor.)

Both of us ordered from the day's specials: an andouille sausage po boy with sweet 'tato fries for Meg and a plate of cornmeal breaded catfish with collards for me. And as you can see from the picture (right), we were treated to reasonable prices.

We should have gotten the 95-cent order of jalepeno corn bread. Everyone around us was raving about it. Next time.

The food was pretty awesome; Meg's po boy came on a ciabatta-type chewy bread and came dressed with with sauteed onions and peppers, and some pickle chips. The sausage was more than a little spicy, about a 2 on my spicy scale, and the heat rounded out the otherwise sweet and mild dish. And the super-thin sweet potato fries were wonderful, if a bit soggy.

My catfish was interesting; not really at all what I was expecting , but hey, I'm a yankee. When I read cornmeal breaded, I imagined something with a serious crunch (as if there were lightly crushed cornflakes in the batter). The cornmeal breading was that: mealy with a little bit of corn. Not too much crunch. Anyway, the ample serving of catfish was tender and mild. That mildness was more than made up for by the kick-you-in-the-teeth collard greens. They were predictably pungent and garlicky.

To finish, we ordered a slice of the peanut butter pie. Both of us expected a gelatinous peanut butter pudding pie but were incredibly pleased at the light, creamy pie that came instead. It was light brown in color with thin ribbons of chocolate on top and some kind of tender crust. The peanut butter seemed to have been whipped with cream and cinnamon, because the texture was a dry-ish light fluff.

We left full and happy.

Technorati Tags: Food, Restaurant, Great Jones, Soul Food

Oh Mister Dumpling Man...

After fighting failure all day (finding a new apartment sucks. Does it ever), I tried to make my way back to the subway from the depths of the Lower East Side (or the East Village, I can never tell where the one and and the other begins - regardless, there weren't really any subways around, so that's why I think it's the Lower East Side). And anyone who knows the LES area knows the profusion of restaurants. All those restaurants and stands, with their siren calls, leading haphazard diners to their death on the rocks. Or something.

Over the last few weeks I've been trying to eat out less. Well really to spend less money, but eating out less is perhaps my key to spending less.

But I can't help but look at menus. I mean, they're right out there on the street waiting to be read. And on this hot, hazy (smoggy, disgusting) summer day, what better than a slow walk through the Lower East Side, reading menus. (Of course I can think of some better ways to spend said day, but they involve sangria and sitting in a window overlooking poor saps outside reading menus)

And I was doing reasonably well until I hit the Dumpling Man on St. Marks Place.

Oh spicy, salty rapture.

I let the cashier order for me and ended up with six seared pork dumplings, monster sauce, and an Izzie pomegranate soda. They took their time and it was so worth it. The slightly crisp dumplings went very well with the sauce (an extra $1.50, on the side), and the sauce was something else. It had Asian chives in it and was exceptionally spicy and garlicky, but too much so. On the Burn-Your-Face-Off scale, where spicy Thai is the hottest (leaving me with tingly lips for 45 minutes and bringing tears to my eyes), this sauce was a 4 (meaning that it brought a tear to my eye when I accidentally inhaled some, and that it made my lips tingle for a few minutes).

Oh, and the atmosphere. It's a small place, modern-looking with glass windows into the dumpling assembly line. The trays look like bamboo.

I left happy and full.

Technorati Tags: Food, Dumpling, New York, Restaurant
Dumpling shot by missdju at flickr. Thanks.

Failed Doughnut Plant Trip Ends at Schiller's

Doughnuts are one of my other obsessions, and I'd been dying to try out the Doughnut Plant for months now. With all the mild spring (?) weather we've been having Marc and I decided it was time to give it a shot.

The Lower East Side still fascinates me. It's so small but takes so long to get to where you want to be. The Doughnut Plant neighborhood reminded me a lot of Brooklyn in its dirtiness (but places like Thor and Teany kept me from forgetting which borough I was in).

During the half-hour walk, one of us wondered whether or not the plant would be sold out of their precious doughy wares by 5 p.m. on a Monday. "A Monday? Who eats doughnuts on a Monday?" Turns out I was right. The Plant is open every day of the week except Monday. We were a bit tired from the walk, so we weren't too upset. We'll be back, Doughnut Plant.

But in the meantime, Marc was beginning to complain of hunger. I'd seen that we passed Schiller's Liquor Bar, so we started back North for some drinks and food. Schiller's is a pretty awesome place - a look in-between a barber shop and an old timey soda fountain place. The prices for food and drinks, standard and specialty, were about average for the hipness.

After bread and olive oil was served, Marc, Derek and I made our orders - a Pimm's Cup with a mozzarella and tomato sandwich on toasted country bread for me, a Raspberry Bramble and a decent burger for Marc, and a frozen margarita with a Cuban sandwich for Derek.

First, the drinks. The Pimm's Cup tasted similar to the Strawberry Fields Meg got at Barmarche, which is to say it was summery in its sweet cucumber-ness. I forget what exactly was in this pimms cup, but I could taste the vegetal notes of the cucumber and mint as well as some sweetness or lemon flavor. Marc's Raspberry Bramble surprised me. I fully expected a overpoweringly sweet/tart girly raspberry drink, but the bramble was subtle and nuanced. It came layered with a combination of gin, chamboard, and something that made the gin cloudy. Oh, and it had the obligatory frozen raspberry. And, finally, Derek's cheap[er] frozen margarita tasted like it was supposed to.

The food was similarly good. Marc's burger wasn't anything terribly special, but my tomato/mozzarella sandwich and Derek's Cuban were quite good. The highlights of mine were the freshness of the ingredients (basil pesto sauce nearly dripped on me a number of times, but that's forgivable) and the lightly toasted country bread - I hate when toast rips the roof of my mouth apart. Marc said his fries tasted homemade, and Derek enjoyed the spicy pickles on his sandwich.

To top it off, a waiter came by and offered us some free doughnuts (they must have been getting ready for dinner). The cinnamon-sugar doughnuts were medium-light in density and temporarily satisfied my doughnut desire.

Technorati Tags: Food, Restaurant, Schiller's, New York City
Special thanks to dgphilli over at Flickr for the photo.

Burgers & Cupcakes (aaand more cupcakes)

Burgers and cupcakes.

Cupcakes and burgers.

I occasionally try to think about how obsessed I've gotten with those two foods since I moved here last fall. In a city with thousands of restaurants and hundreds of cuisines and styles, I keep gravitating back to these embarrassingly basic items. What it comes down to, I think, is that I'd had my share of both before I came here and that makes it easier to set a benchmark. When I have Vietnamese food, it usually tastes like the best Vietnamese food I've ever had (since I've had so little Vietnamese). Give me a cupcake and I can talk about it until I'm as blue as the buttercream icing. (I couldn't help myself. It was better than anything I could think of for a burger)

So this past weekend, Meg, her brother, and I went to Burgers & Cupcakes for some, um, well, burgers. and cupcakes. (As a side note, it's somewhat frustrating that The Girl Who Ate Everything gets to these places before I do. I mean, she eats everything, I know, but sometimes I wish I could eat something somewhere before she does. One day I could be The Guy Who Ate Somewhere First. It's a good aspiration, I'll add it to my list.)

The space looks more like a bakery than a diner, with metallic tables and fun artwork. The painting of the dude eating an onion-topped hamburger and breathing on his, visibly distressed, dog is my favorite. The menu had a bunch of interesting options, including salmon burgers, but the coolest part may have been the topping choices. A bit pricey, but how often can you have a salmon burger with avocado, goat cheese and vegetarian chili (ok, that sounds pretty awful to me, but you could have it). Meg and I got classic cheeseburgers (mine medium, hers medium-well) and her brother went all crazy and added double-thick bacon. And they weren't lying. That bacon was really thick.

B&C offers solid but not outstanding, restaurant-style burgers (as defined in this Augieland post). The size was appropriate and there were moderate levels of juiciness, but they all came more or less grey. Juicy, but grey (which still receives a passing grade in my book; in most cases I could care less about the color as long as it's not desiccated). The fries were a bit soggy.

And the cupcakes. We tried a bunch. The blueberry with vanilla icing, vanilla with chocolate, and a few regular vanilla buttercreams (they were out of pretty much everything else). They were interesting, but inconsistent and DRY! Is there anyplace in this enormous, apparently godforsaken city that makes moist cupcakes? The vanilla with chocolate icing was probably my favorite; the icing was more like ganache than regular icing and matched the density of the cake very well. The buttercreams were quite standard. Bleh. Three inches of buttercream atop a bland cupcake does nothing for me.

The burgers were good, the vanilla/chocolate cupcake was also good, and service was bad; I would go back.

Technorati Tags: Food, Hamburger, Cupcake, New York City
Special thanks to kendiala over at flickr for the cupcake.

Review: Pala

I'd been reading about Pala's pizza since it opened up this past winter. After some mixed reviews (Eater said Pala is "the newest best thing to happen to NY pizza" and The Girl Who Ate Everything gave it an enthusiastic review). So, needless to say I was excited about eating there.

My dad and stepmother came into the city to belatedly celebrate my birthday and after walking around for 7 or 8 hours, it was 10pm and we needed to eat. In my food blog readings, I'd seen a lot of ink on the Rivington/Stanton area, so we took the J (oh god) up to Essex.

The area around this stop isn't merely unphotogenic and almost completely devoid of food, the whole place smelled like dead fish. We were happy to leave it as we got closer to Riv/Stanton. I kept trying to pry out preferences from them, so we'd know what we wanted when we got there, but they finally told me that because it was my special day, I could choose whatever restaurant I wanted. Thirty seconds later, we came upon Pala.

They were surprised and, audibly disappointed that I'd chosen a pizza place. We were seated immediately and ordered some antipasti: marinated eggplant, artichokes, and baked fennel. Each of us were excited about one particular antipasti, mine was the artichokes, but the marinated eggplant was the overall, phenomenal, winner. Eggplant is a hard sell with me, but these guys made the most tender, pleasant eggplant I've ever eaten. The fennel was much better than I'd expected, as the cooking reduced the intensity if its black licorice taste. Aand the artichokes were dry and uninspiring.

Then on to the pizza. The pizza at Pala comes by the foot and is made to order, with a 20- to 40- minute wait. One foot per person is about right for most normal people - we had to leave one lonely piece at the end. Our orders were the Bufala Cruda (buffalo mozzarella, cherry tomato sauce, fresh basil, and olive oil), Mediolanum (gorgonzola cheese, asparagus, fior di latte mozzarella, and tomato sauce), and the Ubriaca (ubriaca cheese, pancetta, fior di latte mozzarella, parsley).

Bufala - standard, needed more cheese
Mediolanum - great but a bit dry
Ubriaca - nearly perfect in every way. The saltiness of the pancetta really added a punch.

The best part of these pizzas, as most reviewers will tell you, is the crust. It's apparently made with 12 different flours and is left to stand for 24 to 60 hours to develop the flavors. It comes out tasting wheaty and yeasty; excellent mouthfeel, which to me means tender with a moderate amount of chewiness; and about twice as thick as the standard, thin, New York crust (which is to say up to a 1-inch thickness).

The wines, we got an Albarino from Rias Baixas, Spain, hit an awesome price point, with most bottles going for under $40 (low end was mid-$20s, I think).

Overall, Pala is an amazing place, though not somewhere to go if you're in a hurry.

Technorati Tags: Food, New York, Restaurant, Pizza