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Posts from the ‘Midtown West’ Category

International Intrigue: BB.Q Chicken

bbq chicken facade

It was over a decade ago that BonChon first showed up in NYC and made a splash with the novel concept of Korean fried chicken. With Kyedong (now Kono), Kyochon, Turntable, and Unidentified Flying Chicken, among others, it’s different landscape now.

bbq chicken downstairs

In Manhattan’s Koreatown, Kyochon fizzled a few months ago and a flashy bi-level flagship BB.Q Chicken might be here to reclaim Korean fried chicken’s former glory. (There were two previous incarnations in Manhattan and still one in Flushing, I think.) Despite the unremarkable name (it stands for Best of the Best Quality) the word has traveled fast. Early on a Friday night, a line started forming for the subterranean table service space and wound up the stairs.

bbq chicken

I tried a sampler of the four primary styles. The simplest version, maybe the calling card, is fried in olive oil and supposedly is the product of a two-day marinating and coating process. It’s very good, juicy, super crisp (rice flour is no joke) and just the right batter to meat ratio. A honey glazed version was like candy, which I loved, though people who don’t like monte cristo sandwiches, bisteeya, or just Chinese-American sweet and sour nuggets should steer clear. Gang-jeong was lightly sweet, garlicky, and spicy, and similar to the non-hot style at BonChon.

I was actually impressed with the “cheesling” style (top right) first for cute name and novelty (mascarpone and cheddar?), but then for flavor. It was totally like cheese popcorn, maybe specifically Smartfood, but meaty. I like the modern Korean taste for adding cheese where it doesn’t belong. The first sit-down thing I ate in Seoul were kimchi fries and there are similar snacky dishes on this menu like bulgogi nachos and cheese fries. 

bbq chicken upstairs

Counter service and to-go are on the main floor. (There was a suspicious lack of cheesling on the shelves). There were an impressive range of alcoholic beverages like canned Pampelonne rosé lime wine and a handful of German beers in addition to the OB, Hite, and fruity shoju. 

bbq chicken uni

Chicken University!

BB.Q Chicken * 25 W. 32nd St., New York, NY

 

Eaten, Barely Blogged: A Bender Just Because

When you post lots of food and drink photos (though who doesn’t anymore?) there is an assumption that you’re always out eating and drinking when in my reality there’s a good deal of cheese and crackers, eggs and bacon, yogurt, seltzer, and other mundanities consumed at home.

dallas bbq pina colada

But when visitors are around who think you’re perpetually having fun, you might have to give them the full eight-hour bender experience, day job be damned. This is now your job. What started out as an innocent lunch break across the street at my favorite regional chain Dallas BBQ (one piña colada) resulted in a two-borough excursion that served to blow the mind (and health) of a long-distance old friend-turned-boyfriend who hadn’t drank for the 25 years leading up to our reconnecting in January. I’m a horrible influence, no question.

jimmy's duo

Jimmy’s Corner (one Sam Adams, two Maker’s on the rocks), not just the best boxing bar in Times Square but possibly the best bar in Times Square period (this is a great recent ode) carried me into oyster happy hour territory but Cull & Pistol, where I was lured by a friend, was too crowded and I wasn’t hungry anyway after ribs and fries, so Corner Bistro minus the burger (two McSorley’s dark ales) became stop #3 for a little anti-Dallas BBQ atmosphere.sea wolf duo

Yet oysters (and two $5 frozen Painkillers) ended up happening anyway at Sea Wolf, the newish beachy restaurant off the Jefferson St. L where getting off the train I came face to face with a coworker whose name I don’t know and initially made me panic since I was being a truant but by 6:30pm I was in the clear. A barely perceptible nod of acknowledgement was sufficient. The point of Bushwick was to hit a few vintage stores, something I haven’t done in decades, and fittingly demonstrate what the Portland of NYC looks like (equally young with free-time during the day, better educated and likely to be secretly wealthy, far dirtier and more industrial, less white, duh).

tomo sushi

By this point, rando sushi seemed like a good idea and a sandwich board on the sidewalk worked its magic. Shared rolls (and a Sapporo) at Tomo just opened the floodgates, though, and Dorito ramen (oops, carbonara) at King Noodle, a few doors down, started seemingly like an even better idea, except I forgot that they had tempered the kitsch a while back and now the menu was more straightforward Asian, slightly SE. Oh, but thank god, and thank you, if you made it this far because the whole point of this exercise is this: ma po tofu fries!

king noodle trio

This is my kind of junk food: melted, processed cheese and fried starch and intensely seasoned ground meat. I love salty soy (fish sauce ideally) with melted cheese and a little (a lot really) heat. Ok, the overriding theme was salt in all the dishes, in an extreme way that was too much in the Spam fried rice and Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce (a nod to health). Maybe not the lemongrass wings, which felt a little wan in comparison, probably because I’d lost all taste for subtlety at this point. (Eaten with coconut porter and a second completely unnecessary beer in a style that I don’t remember since it was the eleventh drink of the day.)

me at king noodle

Drink #10, still going strong. There’s no way to make the neon lighting flattering.

Once you start binging at 1pm, you’ll get tired unless you keep up a steady pace. It may seem dangerous, but the beauty is that you’ll probably make it home by 10pm and get a full eight hours to digest all that sodium, fat, and alcohol and will wake up feeling only sort of like crap (but maybe not at all depending how far from middle-age you might be). To really tempt fate, you can start again the next day but two back-to-back benders is my maximum as a non-young, employed person. Most importantly, I really impressed a now-drinking, self-described Country Mouse (only if you consider Portland’s outskirts country) into boxing, whose going out consists primarily of ramen with his kids, with my fortitude and disregard for work ethics and diet. 

Newborn: Pokéworks

I managed to completely avoid poké while in Los Angeles, a city practically synonymous with the 2015 iteration, and assumed I was in the clear as long as I stayed on my side of the country. But within a matter of months, no less than three restaurants featuring cubes of raw fish dressed and gussied-up in bowls appeared nearly as far as one can get in the continental United States from Hawaii.

pokeworks interior

I don’t dislike poké. I just had better things to do in LA. In fact, it’s kind of a perfect office-day lunch: light with lots of satisfying texture and flavor. Except that I didn’t realize quite how popular Pokéworks was. I’m not sure if the new aspiring chainlet always has a line 30 deep at 2pm (enough to warrant a passing-out of samples and menus to soothe the eager) or if my inadvertently showing-up the same day The New York Times wrote about poké had any bearing on the line apocalypse that out-snaked Chick-fil-A’s corner queue a few doors down.

pokeworks line

Originally, I mistook this as a poké bouncer–until I realize he was there to keep fish freaks from blocking the entrance to the gentleman’s club.

pokeworks poke

Pokéworks offers eight signature styles, including a vegetarian and chicken version, but after waiting 25 minutes, menu in hand, then eyes on the assembly line, it almost feels irresponsible to not attempt a custom order even though that might be the optimal way to assess what a restaurant is all about. Every option (it’s a six-step process) has already been computed mentally by this point. I felt like confident when I went for a brown rice base, a two-protein combo of ahi tuna and salmon, edamame and hijiki as mix-ins, classic salt (Hawaiian salt and sesame oil) flavor, masago-only topping (seaweed and salad and crab salad were tempting), plus garlic chips for crunch.

So many components might threaten to overwhelm the whole point of this purist dish, and I didn’t need all that rice, but the firm chunks of tuna and salmon still shone through, a bright counterpoint for a blustery winter afternoon in NYC.

Pokéworks * 63 W. 37th Ave., New York, NY

Newborn: Arby’s Manhattan

arby's quad

Manhattan chains aren’t like their outer borough brethren. For one, they don’t get flashy microsites and bus tours of Katz’s and Ottomanelli & Sons promoting the same roast beef the rest of the country consumes to little fanfare.

They also fit into their natural surroundings pretty well even if they don’t last. Who even recalls the Manhattan Mall Arby’s? The new iteration that opened last week is next to Port Authority, sharing the same corridor as Manhattan’s only White Castle and the McDonald’s long-formed so wonderfully earlier this year.

In Brooklyn, they take over Gage & Tollner before disappearing. In Middle Village, they flatten Niederstein’s and quietly persevere. (Unrelated to Arby’s, the latest old-school Queens German restaurant to die and transition is Chalet Alpina into Peruvian La Coya. I was curious about the Pisco bar when I walked by last week to see if anything was going on in the former Sizzler–nope, and I nearly shed a tear–but there wasn’t a soul inside.)

arby's lunch

So how is the food? Do you need me to tell you? It’s Arby’s; you get it or you don’t. I went rogue, which for me meant non-Beef ‘n Cheddar. At the last minute, I went premium and chose what I thought was the A.1. Special Reserve Steak Sandwich instead. I had my reasons. (Ok, I’ll tell you one. It was to impress a guy on social media who I’m already friends with. He never acknowledged it, but I’m pretty sure he noticed that I was eating the sandwich he posted on my timeline two months ago. Yep.)

But now that I’m looking at the menu what I ate was definitely not that limited edition sandwich because A.1 branding is nowhere to be seen, and also someone clearly fucked up because by deduction, the only sandwich involving bacon and crispy onions is the Smokehouse Brisket and that’s also supposed to include smoked Gouda and this contained no cheese whatsoever, when really it needed more creamy salt and fat, and now I’m angry at Arby’s, day 2 in operation (on my visit) or not.

Ok, I just calmed down. One unique feature of the Manhattan Arby’s is breakfast. (It’s no Taco Bell, however.) In fact, there are four whole categories devoted to the not-that-important-meal-of-the-day: sliders, flatbreads, biscuits, and premium biscuits, served with coffee from Brooklyn Roasting Company, which honestly I can’t tell if it’s a pseudo or legit beanery or what. I never eat fast food breakfast, but I may just pick up a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit tomorrow if I can make it by 10:30am since it’s the eve of Christmas Eve and I don’t really have to go to the office.

Arby’s * 611 Eighth Ave., New York, NY 

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Feeding Out of Towners

seamore's spread

Seamore’s The sustainable seafood restaurant may have won “Instagram Bait of the Year,” but I’ll concede this is a pretty shoddy pic. (There’s a reason no one is paying me $350 to promote their food.) The poke, so LA, and chosen by the visitor from that raw fish-crazed city, was easily the best thing eaten and it was all because of the peanuts in addition to the tuna, avocado, and ponzu. The bluefish in its pure state was fine, and kind of bizarre with miso brown butter that tasted like caramel corn (perhaps better for sweeter shrimp or scallops) The steamed vegetable and grainy sides of the same sort you get at The Meatball Shop (not that I ever eat there, but what I’ve heard from a friend who regularly gets vegetarian meatball takeout and was also was at this dinner, is how inconsistent and frequently half-cooked everything is) were less exciting even though it didn’t matter since the well-fried dogfish tacos took up all my free stomach space.

la perrada de chalo hot dogs

La Perrada de Chalo There are a lot of ways to go when wooing a West Coaster and trying to convince them Queens is a great place to stay even though they’d prefer Manhattan. Don’t attempt Mexican, just don’t, even though we know the Mexican-food-in-NYC-sucks trope is tired. Colombian hot dogs are more than capable of doing the trick, however. Make the crushed potato chips, bacon, pineapple, blackberry sauce, and creamy squiggles of mayonnaise and ketchup blending into one, seem like foreign delicacy. Plus, open 24 hours on weekends, which is a tough call between the nearby White Castle.

dominique ansel kitchen savories

Dominique Ansel Kitchen I chose the chicken chicken paprikash and cheddar chive biscuit when I should’ve just shared the massive croque monsieur. And I’m still stinging from not realizing the edamame avocado toast is actually a bread bowl when I’ve dedicated my life to embracing the edible vessel.

brooklyn diner kugel sundae

Brooklyn Diner I wouldn’t tell anyone to go to Brooklyn Diner (how it happened to me is still vague) but noodle kugel in a sundae was a surprise. And a welcome one along the same rich, custardy lines as leche flan hiding out in a pile of icy halo halo.

cata egg toasts

Cata Kind of underrated. Do we ever hear about this tapas bar I picked primarily because it’s a non-abusive Friday night choice on the Lower East Side? The big gin and tonics (smoked coconut, kaffir lime) are fun, the food doesn’t suck, though even after sharing maybe five things and two desserts (among three, then four for sweets) you still might end up getting tacos on the way home and find out your Oakland friend stopped for cereal milk soft serve in Carroll Gardens. The quail eggs benedict with chorizo were the sleeper hit.

jackson heights white castle

White Castle Yeah, so I was recently at one in Detroit but I’d never been to the location I’ve lived a ten-minute walk from for the past year. And no better time than 4:30am on a Saturday. Semi-related: I’m still waiting for the damn Northern Boulevard Denny’s I was promised.

 

Shovel Time: Señor Frog’s Times Square

twoshovelBack in 2013, while still a Brooklynite, I wasn’t crazy about the idea of moving offices from the Financial District to Times Square. Who would be? The only thing that soothed was the promise of a Señor Frog’s on the ground floor of 11 Times Square, same as my soon-to-be work address. Not that I’d ever been to a Señor Frog’s. I barely went to a real college, so spring break was never a thing, no ironic nostalgia, and I’ve yet to pass through Cancun, not even as the gateway to Williasmburg-on-the-Yucatan Tulum. I just liked the idea of a novel bar in the basement. So what if the seats were shaped like bikini-clad butts.

senor frog's facade

Except that Señor Frog’s is much more than a bar, it turns out. “Fun, Food & Clothes” are advertised prominently, and the street level space (the free-ranging restaurant is entirely below grade) is dedicated exclusively to merchandise.

senor frog's merch duo

If commemorative mugs and plastic yard drink vessels aren’t your thing, don’t worry. There are mix tape pillows for the basic ladies and straw hats and flip flops for the bros. License plate are a slightly strange offering in NYC and if you’re an out-of-towner do you want a licence plate frame that says New York Señor Frog’s?

Now it feels like I’m at a baseball game. #cottoneyejoe

A video posted by Evan “Funk” Davies (@efdefd) on

On day 2, there were still service kinks to be worked out despite a staff large enough to periodically break into choreographed group song and dance. I also didn’t realize that there was going to be a Coldstone Creamery/Johnny Rockets/Texas Roadhouse entertainment factor. Bonus?

One rule of thumb. The balloon hat-maker and sign-holder (yeah, I have a photo with a “bootylicious” arrow pointing my direction even though I happen to have a very flat ass, if the truth be known) should not be allowed to approach your table until a drink has been been at least sipped. There was a solid, jarring 20 minutes between ordering a $5 happy hour margarita and its blessed arrival.

senor frog's atmosphere duo

A few other things to know:

There is a taco salad, but it’s not served in a fried shell.

Señor Frog’s is a Mexican brand, part of Grupo Anderson’s (Carlos’n Charlie’s, Carlos O’Brien, El Squid Roe) portfolio, not an American company capitalizing on drunk tourists.

Melon liqueur finds its way into more cocktails than one would think possible, including the Frogasm (tequila, melon liqueur, orange liqueur, lime juice, orange juice and simple syrup). The women’s bathroom even smelled like watermelon, though it’s possible I was experiencing pre-stroke phantom scents.

Food is kind of beside the point, but that doesn’t mean it won’t make you think.

senor frog's nachos

If you saw the nachos show up like ordinary nachos, though slightly soggy…

senor frog's wings

and the honey-Sriracha wings, tangy and hyper-crisp even after lazing about…

or the white-on-white cheese enchiladas,  initially mistaken for tacos (not pictured)…

you might assume that food comes relatively composed on standard white plates.

But you would be wrong.

senor frog's carne asada tacos

Carne asada tacos arrive in a real kitchen sink, yet you are in no way prepared for this. There is no reference anywhere, especially not on the menu where it would be warranted, to everything but the kitchen sink puns. (All of the bon mots are painted in neon signs plastered to the ceiling.) This isn’t Farrell’s. (And if you’ve been to a Farrell’s in the past 20 years–or even know what Farrell’s is–I would probably want to be your friend for life or more even if you objected.) But perhaps, even more unexpected was the little ramekin of sweet, molassy pork and beans hidden among the salsa and guacamole. The most positive thing I can say is that at least they had the decency to use corn not flour tortillas.

senor frog's rum runner

So, who goes to Señor Frog’s at 5pm on a Friday? Despite the woman out front handing out coupons and touting with a banner and a whistle, I would say the clientele was peppered with a good number of locals and that there is likely some crossover with the Dallas BBQ crowd across the street even though the prices are not as gentle (though not crazy either) as at the homegrown chain, especially if you’re going large format with drinks.  I happened to pick one of the most expensive regular-sized cocktails, a $14 rum runner, because I wanted high-alcohol, low-fruit, and absolutely melon-free.

me at senor frog's

Am I scared? In on the joke? I’m still not sure. I would meet you for a happy hour drink, no question, though. 

Señor Frog’s * 11 Times Sq., New York I would , NY 

Shovel Time: Gabriel Kreuther

threeshovelSometimes the fancy, leisurely lunch is the right move even when your celebratory self thinks only a wine-paired, tasting menu marathon will do. The $52 two-course prix fixe might not be the city’s ultimate bargain (Jean-Georges is still $48) but it’s a great value (and even better if near your office for optimal hooky-playing–a practical factor of mine despite the impracticality of such a mid-day meal).

The new, spacious restaurant in the Grace Building across from Bryant Park is crisp and modern, from the long lean silverware evoking Vienna Seccession-era design to the wall patterned with black and white cranes storks (Alsace’s emblem, I’ve been informed)  wings spread, mid-strut. All details and service read luxurious rather than fussy.

gabriel kreuther oneThe bread game is strong. A savory kugelhopf appears first with chive fromage blanc, then amuses: a melon gelée with what I want to say was sea urchin and not just because of the shape of the tiny vessel, and pea puree fortified with goat cheese, sandwiched between black crackers, the first of two items incorporating ash to dramatic effect.

Summer does not have to be all rosés and whites. A request for a light red by the glass resulted in Domaine de la Pinte 2011, a hazy, almost amber Poulsard, both brightly fruity and serious.

gabriel kreuther twoIt’s easy to be drawn to the more obvious charms of langostine tartar or a foie gras terrine instead of anything featuring sauerkraut prominently, but go with your gut because fermented cabbage paired with caviar is a perfect high-low combination. The sturgeon and sauerkraut tart (not to be confused with the tarte flambées served in the lounge), an import from The Modern, is presented covered in perky, glass cloche swirling with applewood smoke. The overall flavor, particularly from the mousseline, is saline and almost crab-like. Bamboo ash, more for looks than flavor, also appears in a string of rolls that I kept expecting to taste like poppyseed.

Super fatty and luscious Mangalitsa pork collar is paired a little unusually with morcilla and not illogically with apricot and fennel, creating an overall effect that read Asian almost as if infused with star anise and dried tangerine peel. Cheeks, hidden in the back, had the texture of a more delicate corned beef. Paired with a generously poured Alsatian Pinot Noir (Zusslin 2010) that was more about dried fruit and smoke than juiciness.

gabriel kreuther coconut hazelnut pocky, mignardises

Dessert is available for $16, but wasn’t totally necessary. One benefit of solo dining is that the treats aren’t always scaled down for one. Did I really need five candies (cantaloupe and mint, lime…and who remembers?) plus two twigs of coconut-hazelnut “Pocky?” No, and not the glass of kirschwasser either. Needs are not the hallmark of the fancy lunch, though.

Gabriel Kruether * 41 W. 42nd St. New York, NY 

Shovel Time: El Original

twoshovelOuch. El Original had better watch its back after Javelina’s evisceration. Honestly, the primary reason I visited the former and not the latter is because you can reserve a table between 6pm and 9pm on Open Table. Less importantly to the world at large, I can also walk to it from work.

A couple years ago I was trying to sell a story about how kind of once gross and embarrassing regional cuisines were emerging in NYC with pride, using examples like Tex-Mex night at Goat Town, non-kitschy Hawaiian at Lani Kai, Burnside, the Midwestern bar serving fried cheese curds, and kolaches showing up in Bed Stuy, of all places. No one was interested. I still think there was potential in this but couldn’t get anyone to care about it as is often the case with my ideas. I’m probably sitting on ten equally genius pitches right now–anyone want one?

el original queso

Goat Town and Lani Kai may be dead yet we live in a city newly flush with queso and Spam.

And so, 2015 Tex-Mex in NYC. I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t. All I know is that I love processed cheese–melted, semi-congealed, even with a skin forming on top–all of it.  I got my queso, here the classic called chile con queso, as opposed to the other available style with guacamole, black beans and picadillo dubbed queso El Original.  The salsa was mild and nothing special, though the chips were warm and I’d like to believe were freshly made.

My non-drinking dining companion a.k.a. “baby palate” who’s my go-to for  BBQ, Italian-American, Tex-Mex, pizza and burgers even though she would insist she’s more versatile, made of point of saying the food wasn’t spicy. That’s saying something. You can ask for hot sauce. It’s Valentina. I don’t think of Tex-Mex as fiery so this wasn’t a disappointment, just a caveat.

I’ve been to Texas exactly once, just last year, briefly, under emotionally strained circumstances. But I know enough that they just call it Mexican (Mex Mexican is called interior Mexican), combos are where it’s at, ground beef and yellow cheese never tasted so good, and it can all be had with a strong margarita for $20. That’s not going to happen in Manhattan. Here, the combo plates, which sound like properly gut-busting, alone will put you two dollars north of that figure.

el orginal tacos

The shredded beef, which could be called brisket, was demurely portioned in the soft tacos.  The flour tortillas are made with lard from Dickson’s Farmstand, a detail I didn’t notice until after the fact online and speaks to a sort of identity crisis. The refried beans and rice just seemed like beans and rice. Are we meant to care about the source of lard making the beans silky? Is the food pricey because it’s elevated Tex-Mex or because it’s Manhattan Tex-Mex? Can you even take Tex-Mex out of context without asking for trouble? Transplants complain about pizza or bagels outside of NYC but those are translatable.  I will give the restaurant points for being big and cheerful–if you didn’t peer outside to see it was attached to the Skyline Hotel, you could be tricked into thinking you were in nice, modern strip mall.

El Original * 735 Tenth Ave. New York, NY

Newborn: City Kitchen

Hopefully, this will not be the state of affairs in practice.

Not indicative of actual lunch crowds (I hope).

I’m pretty sure that I recently said 2015 was going to be about embracing the personal, not the service-oriented. How does a new food court, more Gotham West/Berg’n than Riese Organization, fit into this rubric? Well, City Kitchen is two blocks from my office in Times Square’s sad lunch zone. So, yeah.

Imagine these full sized

Imagine these full sized

Open to the public today, the second floor collection of stands includes established favorites like Luke’s Lobster, Dough, Sigmund’s Pretzels, offshoots like Ilili Box and perhaps most notably, Kuro Obi, an Ippudo spin-off with noodles that are supposedly resistant to take-out.

Whitman's Upstate PB&B (bacon and peanut butter) slider

Whitmans’ PB&B (bacon and peanut butter) slider

Also, there will be breakfast tacos (at Gabriela’s Taqueria) which I would be willing to trade for my usual hard-boiled egg (I know) every now and then, as well as beer, wine and sake, for lunch hour tipplers. (Though if you’re a serious day-drinker, you’ll probably be better suited to Smith’s across the street when it re-opens courtesy of Hayden Panitierre’s dad.)

 City Kitchen * Eighth Ave. & 44th St., New York, NY

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Skewers, Shawarma, Sable

snack eos duoSnack EOS Ninth Avenue near Times Square can feel more exciting simply because it’s not Eighth Avenue. Even so, there are a few charmers like Larb Ubol that stand out, and now Snack EOS, which was new to me, and possibly new period. Peaceful and non-plasticky, it’s a nice respite from the humidity and suitcase-draggers–and the $14.95 snack box isn’t a bad deal for a sit-down lunch. The taramosalata (pictured) with lots of warm pita and a yellowfin tuna skewer a.k.a. kalamaki with olives and a farro salad, is just one combo from a choice of three starters and an equal number of mains.

 

 

la goulette delivery

La Goulette Can you accurately judge a restaurant based on delivery? Probably not. La Goulette already gets points, though, for being one of the only Tunisian restaurants around (and by around, I mean that I can walk to). I appreciated that you could get chicken shawarma (there is merguez, but not much lamb in other forms, oddly) in a style not involving pita or rice. Who cares whether roasted cauliflower and artichokes are a traditional accompaniment  or a modern concession, it worked. There’s plenty of starch in the falafel and hummus-filled “veggie mix.” Don’t worry.

baz bagels nova & sableBaz Bagel It might also be wrong to choose a nouveau Jewish cafe based on the wallpaper. I’ve been researching palm tree and fern wall coverings for the past month and wanted to see some in the wild. (I was also obsessed with the Alloro’s green interior when it first opened, but never enough to prompt an in-person visit.) The food? That’s more difficult to parse. I wasn’t at Baz under pure food-enjoying circumstances to start with (beyond the wallpaper-scoping) yet even if I was paying more attention, the price to proportion might’ve seemed slightly out of whack.. One would think  something described as a tasting plate (nova and sable) and costing $18 would be shareable. Not so. A bagel sandwich might make more sense–or moving on to Black Seed or Russ & Daughters Cafe next time.