Goodies First

Maison

Times Square is tricky for dining, most would say avoid it altogether, but sometimes it's just not worth fighting. There are out of town guests who enjoy being shown what makes NYC special—whether it's finding a platter of Filipino sisig that they can't get where they live or wowing with high caliber multicourse tasting menus or hip neighborhoody places that cure their own meat—and then there are those who would be perfectly happy eating anything, anywhere as long as it’s within a reasonable walking radius of their hotel, and not exorbitantly priced or a mob scene. It's not about the food, you’re just trying to catch up. Though if it were up to me, I'd walk way west to Pam's Real Thai or Tulcingo.

My grandma (I can’t say grandmother because it just doesn’t sound right even though it reads better. I could really go all out and type the more phonetic gramma, but that’s a hideous looking word) has never indicated any interest in French bistro food, but Maison it was. Two-blocks from the Sheraton and no wait on a Friday night are good enough for me. I don't know what suits her taste because I rarely make it back to Portland and she's more likely to take a cruise to New Zealand then come here. (I really need to learn some lessons from Oregonians like how to live on social security and babysitting jobs yet travel regularly. I do think that living in RV's and mobile homes, as other immediate family members do, certainly sucks less of your income than renting in prime Brooklyn, no secret there.) She has only visited NYC once before, along with my mom and sister in 1998, the year I moved here. I recall a positive experience with Sixth Street Indian, grumblings over Zen Palate (my sister's influence) and me losing my shit because they went to Tavern on the Green without me and when I got off work to meet them, bought me a Subway sandwich and told me to put a sock in it. I didn't have the good dining sense to yet realize I may have been better off eating the damn footlong and shutting up.

Maison's charcuterie plate was better than a Subway Club® and the wooden plank overflowed with a larger selection of meat than I’d expected. It’s doubtful anything was cured or aged in house, but the smoked duck and pate wedges were particularly winsome.

I didn’t break any new ground and ordered the steak frites. Frankly, the best part was the fries…and the herb butter. The meat wasn't so flavorful. Sometimes I just should order a plate of fries if that's what I want. The leftovers did make a good breakfast steak sandwich the following day.

For the record, grandma ate penne with chicken and James had steak au poivre. I did not snap photos because I was trying to be restrained.

The service was surprisingly friendly and accommodating. I always assume that if you work in Times Square you must be cranky from dealing with tourists all day. Maybe I’m just projecting. No rushing, I was able to sip my second glass of Shiraz in peace. It’s also worth noting that Maison, like its relatives L’Express and French Roast, is open 24-hours in case you find yourself starving on Broadway and W. 54th in the middle of the night.

This might be what I look like in 38 years, though I don’t imagine my eyes will turn blue. Grandma also told me to give up my growing out my gray hair nonsense. No need to age yourself prematurely but I’m still continuing my experiment. I can’t stop yet.

Maison * 1700 Broadway, New York, NY

Grayz

Grayz is very much a grown up restaurant, though that Z at the end has always struck me as an ill conceived youthful affectation. It only recently occurred to me that it’s a homophone, tweaking the chef’s surname to play on the on the small plates grazing concept. Ok, I get it, but I’m still not crayzee about the name.

So, Grayz is grown up in that they serve pricey fancies masquerading as bar snacks (and that the average diner’s age prime time Saturday hovered in the 50s). I’m not in the habit of dropping $39 on finger food (rebate check burning a hole in my pocket or not) but I found my cobbled together dinner more enjoyable, or should I say awesome (it was our waitress’s favorite adjective) than expected. Civilized has its place every now and then.

James insisted the room reminded him of some Atlantic City Trump restaurant where we had a middle-of-the-night burger a few Fourth of Julys ago. There were some tame chandeliers, mini-banquettes and recessed lighting peeking out of undulating ceiling cutouts but I wouldn’t call the earth toned townhouse garish. It’s not my taste, but it’s hardly Trumpy.

I’ve been obsessed with crème de violette, mostly because of its intense color. I meant to track some down around Christmas to make an Aviation but never got around to it, so I was happy to see this cocktail on their list. It’s hard to tell from the photo (the dim lighting was murder, as you can see) but the color is a pale ever so slight periwinkle. I was expecting a cherry, but they garnished with orange peel. The flavor was more bitter than sweet, in a quinine way, but my taste could’ve been skewed from sucking so many sugar free cough drops last week.

Bread basket with yogurt dipping sauce. The herbs might’ve been fresh oregano.

Complimentary lamb sausage amuse. The fluff was similar to baba ghanoush.

What I hadn’t anticipated was how Asian many of the ingredients and preparations would be. A special involving the words fish and dumplings caught our attention, but these little patties were straight up tod mun pla. Funny, because fish cake would’ve kept me away—they’re one of the only Thai treats that I’m ho hum on.

Ceviche was composed of kampachi and fluke squiggles rather than chunks or slices. The citrus was meyer lemon, which kept the acid level tame.

Weisswurst was a fun diversion. Why not plump ghostly sausages with sweet mustard? I wisely lost my carb consciousness for a warm pretzel.

Here’s the $39 prize. Well, they were very satisfying short ribs, but yeah, spendy. The sauce was flavored with tarragon and horseradish but I swear garam masala was hiding in the mix. There was a distinct earthy Indian quality to the beef.

We probably didn’t need a dessert, especially since I wasn’t bowled over by what I ordered anyway. I’m old fashioned about sweets and when I hear white chocolate brownie I envision homey and rich. This creation was sharp and crumbly like eating shortbread and pineapple. If I had known that we were going to be gifted with two truffles (coconut and possibly passion fruit) and a tuile at meal’s end, I would’ve skipped this course.

Read my extremely condensed version for nymag.com

Grayz * 13 W. 54th St., New York, NY

Crave on 42nd

No more truffled mac and cheese (10/29/08)

Ah…Valentine’s Day. Food-wise mine is already over. Tonight I will probably just watch Lost and turn cold leftover white rice into fried rice for dinner. Romance is not dead; it can be kind of strange, though.

Last year I was happy to start doing Valentine’s dinners on dates that weren’t the 14th. This year the trend was continued with a meal on the 13th at odd choice, Crave on 42nd.  If anything it was a reminder that two people with very different ideas regarding just about everything can remain amiable after eight Valentine’s Days.

If I were to pick a Top Chef restaurant, which I wouldn’t, I would definitely lean towards Perilla. Nothing I read about Dave Martin’s restaurant inspired much confidence, and frankly I was kind of scared. I was also scared to take interior shots of the room lest the chef think I was trying to snap photos of him. I'm not one for such antics.

My hesitance wasn’t allayed by the blustery stroll to Twelfth Ave from Port Authority. Walking five avenues in heels (I wear flats 90% of the time because I’m overly practical and paranoid about falling down stairs) on the rainiest day of the year made me nervous. I thought I had seen the last of this block abutting the Hudson River when I made the trek twice last fall for my Chinese visa.

The location at the base of a large condo complex and across from the Chinese Embassy is kind of unfortunate. From a distance, you might think the restaurant would be a dry cleaners or dentist office, but then you’re thrown off by the white Christmas lights dolling up the edges of the windows.

Yeah, it’s suburban feeling, spacious, inoffensive, and I’m ok with all that. Embarrassingly, it marries all that I love about chains with a Manhattan address, which is to say that many New Yorkers would hate it. The food is benign: comfort-y with twists. Burgers and pizza are prominently featured. It’s not a place for tasting menus and wine pairings.

The overall style is the opposite of that Citicard commercial that I hate. The one with the tired cliché “the food was tiny.” Maybe this elf food joke was funny in the ‘70s when nouvelle cuisine was, uh, new? Amusing only to me, I Googled “the food was tiny” and this very site came up ninth place in reference to Megu. Quite fitting since that was a Valentine’s dinner from three years ago.

The first thing you notice upon entering the room is the distinct aroma of warm cheese and truffle oil. The windows were steamed up, it was like stepping into a sauna made of fontina. I refused to go with the flow and order the famous truffled macaroni and cheese, but that didn’t stop James. I did appreciate the crispy top on the two bites I took, but I’ve never been a mac and cheese person.

Instead, I ordered the sea scallops with vanilla cream and smoked tomato butter. The vanilla was subtle and worked with the smokiness. Apparently, smoke is the chef’s thing as my next course also used that descriptor.

Smokey rubbed filet mignon with groovy gorgonzola, sweet onion rings and Yukon Gold mashed potatoes. No, the groovy isn’t my addition, I’m just giving you a taste of how the titles are written. I don’t usually order beef so I’m not sure what got into me. Maybe I was just going for the traditional spirit of Valentine’s Day and ordering the most expensive thing on the menu. It was meat and potatoes with blue cheese; it’s kind of hard to ruin that combination and clearly it did its job because I ended up eating the whole thing even though I didn’t plan to. It's hard to tell from the photo, but for some reason it was in two pieces.

Sassy sea bass with adobo honey butter and couscous. James ordered the girl dish. It was sassy, after all and he’s the opposite of that adjective. The glaze was sweet, which was pleasing to me because I like candied flavors.

I’m anti-chocolate molten cakes and am generally underwhelmed by panna cotta, so the only dessert possibility was the warm apple turnover. Definitely better than a fried McDonalds pie.

Our wine pick, an Australian Chardonnay, Slipstream, Arcade Hills 2006, was probably an off choice for my steak but that’s the beauty of a place like this, no one is going to care. Admittedly, I was thinking more about my scallops when I picked this white wine.

I hate to say it but I’m experiencing some serious gastrointestinal distress this morning. So much so that I decided it was safer to work from home today (I would be surprised if any office mates read this but if you do, just know that I’m writing this on my lunch hour and not goofing off, thanks). Maybe the gorgonzola was too groovy? I’d like to blame it on escolar, the much blogged about Ex-Lax fish, but bass and salmon were the only fish on offer.

There’s nothing more romantic than the warm glow of a tow truck hauling away an illegally parked car outside your window.

Crave on 42nd * 650 42nd St., New York, NY

AJ Maxwell's

1/2 I’d never heard of AJ Maxwell’s, but then there are countless steakhouses with men’s names so it’s not that surprising. Last year at this time I was working a block away from AJ Maxwell’s and it still didn’t ring a bell, though it’s not the sort of place I would’ve been dining on a part-time news library salary anyway. Wendy’s and Au Bon Pain were about as good as it got.

Oysters on the half shell were really too large for our two-seater. They had to take our bread basket away (with the promise of its return) to make room for the presentation. And of course, they forgot to bring the bread back. Carbs are important to me.

There’s something highly impressive about the dinosaur-like bone poking from the rib eye.

I tried lamb chops just to be different, though I would’ve preferred beef. Despite the pretty greenness, jellied mint sauce rarely does much for meat.

Brussels sprouts with bacon were extremely good. Because we’re scrounges we wanted to take leftovers home. Unfortunately, they tossed everything except the meat. I suppose that implies that the typical clientele would never take home uneaten hash browns and brussels sprouts. Though just a few weeks earlier I ate at Ben & Jack's on my own dime and no one had a problem with doling out doggie bags.

Read my straight-shooting Nymag.com review.

AJ Maxwell’s * 57 W. 48th St., New York, NY

Wondee Siam

I could’ve sworn I had been to Wondee Siam before but after hitting up this location, I was sure that this small space on the east side of the street was not what I was thinking of. How did I not know there were two Wondees blocks from each other? Apparently, it’s a Hell’s Kitchen trend, as Pam Real Thai also does the same two-fer in two blocks trick.

I would say that the food is notch above run of the mill Manhattan Thai and they don’t wimp out on the spicing if you request hotness, but I wouldn’t say it’s a destination restaurant. I would take it over my many local Thai options, though. I ordered fairly straightforward items.

 

Yum ta lay. When in doubt I often get the seafood salad. This rendition had an orangey rather than clear dressing, which was probably from chile paste since I didn’t sense any tomato flavor.

 

Ped kra prow. I do like duck and am baffled by haters of the water fowl. Dark meat, fat and skin? It’s like chicken but so much better. I could eat just chiles, basil and the flavorful residual oil with white rice.

 

Pork panang curry. I’m not used to pineapple in my curry but it doesn’t bother me like completely inappropriate carrots or broccoli. Pork and pineapple are an amazing duo as proven by Hawaiian pizza. I didn’t have to think twice when this photo was requested by a stranger to illustrate an article about a woman putting crap in her husband’s curry. Tasty. (6/12/2007)

Less crap-filled review for nymag.com

Wondee Siam I * 792 Ninth Ave., New York, NY

Bon Chon Chicken

1/2 Bon Chon is now Mad For Chicken. Doesn't quite have the same ring, does it? (5/15/09)

I have no idea how the Korean fried chicken craze of 2007 originated, but the New York Times article blew the genre wide open (I’ve really been liking some of the Times’s recent articles, sometimes I’m just bored. Last Wednesday’s suburban Latin supermarkets one was great. Huge, organized, well-stocked “ethnic” supermarkets are my raison d’etre and they’re too few and far between in the city. The article even made a point about having wider aisles for larger families [in number, not weight, natch] which ain’t happening here. Even the trying-to-be-mega Red Hook Fairway is cramped and illogical.)

Bon Chon is the type of place, along with Yakitori Totto, that I have every intention of visiting but never make it to because midtown is barely on my radar anymore and I need a catalyst. This time it was a friend’s birthday dinner, the venue chosen at the suggestion of her sister who’d become enamored with the chicken while working nearby.

The peripherals don’t necessarily enhance the dining experience. The décor is industrial, blood bath chic, kind of like a cleaner more stylish version of the room from Saw. Music ranged from late ’80s Depeche Mode to a dance version of Dirty Dancing’s "Time of My Life. "

And well, the food itself takes more than its sweet time making its way to the table constructed from wood, glass and rusty gears. Flagging down a server was also tough. But that didn’t stop anyone from retrieving numerous pitchers of Killian Red (the only beer served in that rare less-than-urbane format) straight from the bar. The possible downside of that was that by the time the food started arriving, I was too tipsy to critically evaluate the poultry pieces.

Clearly, the chicken is cooked to order. But 30+ minutes seems a bit excessive. When we asked about breasts and whole drumsticks, our waiter looked at us like we were crazy, declaring “too busy.” That was fine. The extra skin to meat ratio on wings and drumettes is superior. The sensation is skin-centric with a papery crispness, more crackle than crunch. I enjoy thickly battered Southern-style fried chicken greatly, but this is a different beast.

Between a mix of hot wings and soy-garlic, the latter flavor was more popular. I’d agree by a margin, despite usually preferring spice over sweetness. The soy was just more welcoming where the hot required a pause between wings. I lost count, though I easily ate six. We ordered three $19.95 larges to split amongst seven eaters at our waiter’s suggestion and that was right on. Only two stray pieces were left on the plate, and even they were eventually devoured.

Accompaniments include a small bowl of cubed, pickled daikon and a heap of shredded lettuce with a thousand island type dressing. Sushi rolls, ramen and something for $12.95 called iced peach are also on the menu. The lone vegetarian in our party had to make a meal of edamame and rosemary wedge fries. We were accidentally given an extra order of these potatoes, for no reason.

Bon Chon isn’t cheap when you think about it, and definitely not fast food, but somehow that’s all clouded once you ascend to the nearly hidden second floor. There’s something about restaurants with no signs on the façade or ground level presence that change the rules. My sights have now been set on the Flushing location, Fort Lee’s Boom Boom and Jackson Heights’s Unidentified Flying Chicken.

Bon Chon Chicken * 314 Fifth Ave. second Fl., New York, NY

Margon

1/2 I spent the past five months working one block from Margon and yet I never made it over until my final day. It’s wasn’t a laziness issue (though I did find myself in the ground floor Au Bon Pain more than I’d like to admit—hey, I had a discount).  I just try to go easy calorically during the day (after 6pm I go nuts). If I had a guy metabolism I swear I’d eat a cubano at least weekly. It’s not like roast pork, ham, swiss cheese, mustard and pickles should kill you. Oh yeah, and the salami, Margon’s wild card touch. I would’ve liked to have tried the tripe steam table special but it wasn’t on Wednesday’s list (that’s Monday or Thursday), plus the office was populated by culinary joykills (I suspect my new office contains more of the same—where are the coworkers who appreciate a fine spleen or somesuch?). It’s for the best that I’m no longer employed near midtown because now that I’ve given in I doubt I could resist the little lunch counter’s pull.

Funny, I just looked at Midtown Lunch and their person on the street interview jumped out because there aren’t many news librarians in the world. Then I realized the woman being questioned had listed my old intersection, the Newscorp building, but didn’t work at the New York Post. Ah yes, Fox News. Those freaks put me through three interviews, three months apart for a weekend freelance job. I lost interest about half way through the process because I like my Sundays more than I like extra spending money. I’m so done with news librarianship. For real. But now I’m in the Financial District—and I thought midtown was bleak food-wise…

Margon * 176 W. 46th St., New York, NY

Tehuitzingo Deli

People in the know go all nuts for Tehuitzingo Deli. I think it's because the bulk of Manhattan is taco deprived. Don't get me wrong, they churn out an authentic item (I included them in a real vs. fake article I recently wrote) but it's the sort of place that humorless foodies might bandy about as a badge of honor.

Behold tacos filled with barbacoa, carnitas and cecina. They all taste distinct, but it's hard to discern which is which from this pic.

I went to the Belle and Sebastian show with Heather, who had a friend (that I won't link to because it's more fun to blog behind backs) that wanted to grab a bite before the concert. He had mentioned Tehuitzingo to her, but I had already put in a convincing vote for Olive Garden. This was majorly vetoed by this friend of a friend. It was ok, I wrangled two souls into going to The OG.

It was funny because after the show, my pal tracked down this guy and introduced us and mentioned that we both did food blogs like that would be a bond. But it never is. That's why I don't hang out with any food freaks (most of my friends are vegetarian or meat and potatoes). If someone can't eat at Tehuitzingo and Olive Garden in the same week, then it's just not going to work. God created tripe tacos and neverending pasta bowls to both be enjoyed.

Tehuitzingo Deli * 695 Tenth Ave., New York, NY

Empanada Mama

I'm still not sure what the connection is between Empanada Mama and Papa's Empanadas, but they practically have the same menu. Only their prices separate them. No matter, more details from my New York Post taste taste can be found here.

Empanada Mama * 763 9th Ave., New York, NY

Bistro du Vent

1/2  *They closed back in May of last year. Sometimes it takes me a while to remember these things. (1/07)

There's something about this newish Theater District restaurant that makes you feel like a tourist. Maybe its the location, maybe its the not-used-to-tight-spaces clientele bogged down with shopping bags and saggy-ass jeans. We walked in early a weeknight thinking it wouldn't be a problem. Apparently, thats what all he Times Square stragglers thought too. Luckily, we were offered a table at the bar that kept us out of the four-child families and souvenir oohing and ahhing fray.

I'd heard the food was perfectly fine bistro fare with no over reaching aspirations. This is exactly what it was, solid, no complaints. The frisee salad with lardons and poached egg was text book. My side of frites, both tender and crispy. Jamess steak frites were generous. Everything was more than edible, there was just something off about the atmosphere. The service, while adequate, seemed mechanical and distracted.

I just wanted to try something new before a Revenge of the Sith showing (no, I'm not a Star Wars freak, we waited a full week before venturing). Next time I'm in the area Ill likely check out Tommy Lukes down the street. Pork, provolone and broccoli rabe sandwiches are the best.

Bistro du Vent * W. 42^nd St., New York, NY

Pam Real Thai Food

When you use a term like real in your name, people are going to expect you to deliver the goods. I guess you could say Pams is realer than much of what passes for Thai food in NYC. I'm so not a food snob, but Thai is one of the few cuisines that I actually feel like I "get" and can talk about semi-authoritatively. I'm picky. Ill have a shit fit if anyone dare suggest Lemongrass Grill as a viable option (or requests chopsticks). And unfortunately, I just might live amidst the citys highest concentration of mediocre Thai restaurants (Citysearch lists 18 for the 11231 zip code, but nearby stragglers also show up in the results).

Everyone knows Sripraphai is the go to for Thai food, like the earth is round, its irrefutable. So, its hard to branch out when you know ahead of time the cuisine wont measure up. But Pams has been qualified as Manhattans best Thai (others would argue Wondee Siam), and with that ranking in mind, bolstered by fairly recent New York Times praise, I figured I'd finally give it shot.

The first weird uncharacteristic thing I did was bring a bottle of wine. BYOB is allowed at Sripraphai too, but I've never partaken. I have unfounded issues with people who bring wine into "ethnic" holes in the wall. It's not that I don't enjoy wine with my meals, its just sort of a when in Rome deal. I would say its a Borough vs. Manhattan thing, but its not completely because I also feel NY Noodletown is an inappropriate venue for showcasing ability to pair wine with roast duck on rice. But Pams felt like a bottle of wine was warranted, nothing precious or foodie about it.

I ended up liking Pams food, and if I'm sounding defensive its only because authenticity police love slamming this place. No, its not Sripraphai (and some would argue the new Sripraphai isnt Sripraphai anymore) but if you choose carefully and strongly emphasize your capacity for heat, its not like youre going to have a Lemongrass Grill experience. The LG experience at this restaurant was more evident in atmosphere, by which I mean the clientele.

We arrived very early and beat the notorious crowds, but that didnt keep a peculiar foursome from being seated smack dab next to us. After the older gentleman removed his back brace and crammed it an inch from my feet, I became fixated on figuring these folks out. The best I could tell was that a woman who used to live in Manhattan was enlightening relatives (the spine injury guy and a couple in their early 20s) with her good taste via her former stomping grounds. I was stumped by their slow Midwestern diction and unabashed love of Ruby Tuesday, only to have them go on to talk about living in New Jersey. I shouldnt condescend, despite their not knowing what curry was and gaping over a fish presented whole, they all seemed pleased with their meal at the end.

I wasn't displeased either. We started with a surprisingly spicy seafood som tam, studded with shrimp, mussels and squid. I swear I'd eat som tam all the time if I could just find green enough papaya. Instead of ordering crispy pork with basil and chile so we could compare to our Sripraphai standard, we tried the duck version. I thought it held up, though smaller pork pieces seem better in their flesh to fat contrast. Basil chicken, aka E3 (Bennies got us hooked on that shorthand) has never knocked my socks off in the first place. We make it home all the time because its easy and tasty, but at restaurants I want things that are difficult for dabblers to reproduce. I did miss the all the plastic tubs of goodies since I'm accustomed to taking my sweets to go. I refrained from dessert at Pams though I do have to give them kudos for putting a durian rice pudding on the menu. You definitely wont find that at Ruby Tuesday. (4/1/05)

People get down on Pam because it's not Sripraphai. But jesus, compared to the bland lowest common denominator Thai food that dominates my South Brooklyn environs, it's like a breath of fresh fish saucy air. Since my last visit, they've taken a page from Sri's book, literally, and have started putting color food photos at the back of the menu (as opposed to a big binder). They've also started serving alcohol.

But of note, is that the food is better than I recall from my previous meal. I frequently feel like crying after wasting money and calories on Thai food. I end up full yet totally unsatisfied from the pale renditions of yums and curries. The one dish that remains unique to Sripraphai seems to be the watercress salad. Nothing compares, I don't even know if they eat such a thing in Thailand (I never saw it, but it's not like I scoured the country). Pam hasn't attempted that, but their salads are sufficient.

Where they seem to excel is with the crisp fried, deep and dark preparations that burn the tongue. Or maybe I just love anything that's rich, crunchy and hot as hades. Our two entrees looked nearly identical--only one photo turned out, but no matter because the images were interchangeable.

We ordered crispy duck pad prik king and a catfish something or another that was hard to resist with its double chile rating. The duck had long beans and the fish apple eggplants, both were sprinkled with lime leaves (my only complaint would be the thick matchstick-sized cut leaves instead of a finer chiffonade) I'm not sure if both had basil. You have to emphasize you really like heat (and that you're not freaked out by lots of tiny bones. Oh my god, once I brought a friend to Sriprphai and her boyfriend ordered a similar catfish curry and had a spazz out over all the bones). I guess they believed me because the fish (actually the sauce and eggplants more than the flesh) hit me hard half way through the meal. I think it charred my esophagus. I don't even want to think about the intestines and the rest of that eventual route.

Despite the detractors, I really do think Pam's is the solution if you're Manhattan-bound. If you're stuck in Brooklyn? I guess you're screwed. (1/19/06)

Pam Real Thai Food * 404 W. 49^th St., New York, NY

Bryant Park Grill

1/2 It wouldn't be my first choice for a company lunch, but its not as if I'm in an expense account industry (well, advertising: yes, but a librarian within such an organization: no). Per Se, Masa—not happening. As a post-Christmas present our department was taken out to lunch by a former company CEO who still holds court, at least figuratively, on some oak-heavy floor that I've never ventured on. I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth despite the host and the two employees who ordered after him all asking for the exact same Caesar salad and cheese ravioli special. Weird. I got the boring womans choice: roasted chicken, though primarily for the french fries that came on the side. And since I wasn't paying I didnt feel much guilt about only eating half of my food (not by choice—everyone else just ate faster and I had to stop too). Isn't that the French way everyone seems to smitten with lately? Eat whatever you want, but just a few bites. Waste is so chic.

Bryant Park Grill * 25 W. 40th St., New York, NY

Remi

I normally wouldn’t eat at someplace like this. But it was assigned to and it was one block from my internship. Who could argue? The food was better than I’d anticipated, too. See my Time Out NY Eating & Drinking Guide review.

Zona Rosa

No more Zona Rosa (2/09)

Once again James dipped into his special occasion canon of Latin and/or meaty restaurants. I always like to play guessing games about where he's going to take me, and I never would've picked this place in a million years if I hadn't noticed a business card and press release earlier in the month on his desk. I assumed it had something to do with his mom since she's always in town for Hispanic-related events and conferences, which kind of weirded me out because his mom is a source of contention and the idea of her influencing his Valentine's dining choice was a bit odd.

I rarely eat upscale Mexican, and it was quite nice. There was a starter of ceviche and guacamole with a few artfully arranged chips (there was way too much guacamole for the amount of chips). I had a duck taco appetizer, and stuffed quail in a mole sauce with rose petals for an entre. I'm incredibly averse to eating flowers, it borders on being a phobia, but I was sold on the little game bird and mole aspect. Eating around the petals was no problem.

I asked James how he chose the restaurant, and he wouldn't tell me, which was just plain weird. He insisted it had nothing to do with his mother, but that he'd been there before (it had only been open about one month, and there was all that controversy about Alex Garcia, who was supposed to be the chef, being arrested on drug charges) and then refused to tell me who he'd been there with or why. It was totally bizarre, and cast a weird mood to the meal. I mean, on one hand, who cares why or who he'd been there with, but on the other hand being all mysterioso just gets on my nerves. Oh, I fear that with each progressive Valentine's Day, the farther you become removed from the original sentiment of the holiday.

ZonaRosa * 40 W. 56th, New York, NY

Keen's

I've declared Keens the fertile-making steak house. I'd always considered myself more of a Luger (not Lugers, dammit, no extra Ss, just like it's not Barnes & Nobles either) girl, and now I know why. James's college pal, Pat, the recent transplant, got in his head that Luger was the place to impress, the spot to take the ladies (nevermind that he didn't have a lady, and the few dates he eventually scored were with a vegetarian).

Then another old college buddy that James isn't fond of took Pat to Keens and that's when all hell broke loose. Keens took the place of Luger in his mind as the chicks-dig-it restaurant (I don't know where he got the idea girls are nuts for meat and potatoes from in the first place). His fate was sealed when he took a mousey, classic meat and potatoes gal/coworker out to Keens. Soon after, we don't know if it was actually that night, he knocked her up.

There might be something to all this. I recall a beef council commercial where the old stodgy guys get scared because their steakhouse has been overrun by women, one very pregnant. What, is iron the latest aphrodisiac? Beef might be what's for dinner, but you'd better think twice about what you're going to get for dessert.

KeensSteakhousee * 72 W. 36th St., New York, NY

La Bonne Soupe

Perhaps my last night of carbohydrate freedom shouldn't have been devoted to French food and loads of cheese, but a fondue craving's a craving.

I'd always meant to make it to Rotelle A.G., but it went out of business before I had the chance. Artisanal is nice, but I wanted something more downscale. La Bonne Soupe is a slice of '70s, midtown New York that I never experience. It's sort of shabby (not shabby chic) in a red checked table cloth, woody, rustic chalet way, and on a random street I swear I've never walked down in my 4.5 years living here.

It was the 25th hour in there. You'd think I'd be gorging myself on dumplings, cake, pasta, pork buns, fried rice and the like, but no, I went for the Atkin's friendly pot of cheese and pate plate. Oh well. If I had a time machine I might rectify the situation. (1/5/03)

See my Time Out NY Eating & Drinking Guide review

Yikes, despite the cramped, harried, faded nature of this narrow Gallic holdout, I'd enjoyed my previous three meals there. It's the go to place for no frills fondue, an anti-Artisanal. But my recent visit was just a mess. I had decided to check out the MoMA store because they were having a 20% off day for members and corporate affiliates. I have some deal through work, as well as half the city, apparently. I didnt end up buying anything since the only thing I kind of wanted were these acrylic rings and I didnt know my size and didnt want to wait in the snaking line for a $10 purchase. I figured fondue two blocks north would be a nice treat since the sale was sort of a bust.

But its tricky because is fondue a meal? Is it an appetizer? I felt like we should order something not terribly huge for each of us in addition to the pot of melted cheese. James got one of those chopped hamburgers and I opted for a charcuterie plate with salad. But I got my food instantly and then that was it. I was trying to pick at my food until Jamess arrived. It never did. We finally flagged down our waiter (who was getting it from all sides because either no one was getting their food, getting their orders taken, getting their water glasses filled or were missing items are given the wrong dishes) and asked where the rest of our meal was, and apparently, hed been waiting for me to finish. So, I guess that answered my question--charcuterie is considered appetizer and fondue and hamburger is entrée.

Now James had food and I was finished and trying not to hog all the fondue while he attempted eating two things at once. And the fondue was grainy like it had been sitting around cooling to room temperature, separating. The whole thing raised my blood pressure and lowered my appetite. I havent tried Mont Blanc yet, maybe Ill head there for my next fondue fix. Or not…$39 for fondue? Artisanal is only $24. Unfortunately, La Bonne Soupes is still the cheapest at $17, but I'm not sure thats necessarily a bargain. (11/3/05)
La Bonne Soupe * 48 W. 55th St., New York, NY

Midtown Friday's

All those commercials about "in here it's always Friday," making the chain dining experience look like a blast, the bartenders something like "Cocktail" era maestros, don't apply to this location. Chains are weird in NYC to begin with. At least the Times Square location can boast being the largest in the United States. Since chains are always inexplicably busy, hour or more waits not uncommon for Olive Gardens and Red Lobsters, it seemed baffling that TGI Friday's could be dead, on of all nights, Friday.

Along a tourist corridor, the prices were easily $5 higher than reasonable for fajitas, chicken strips and the like. But the suburban experience in the city doesn't come cheap, and I could abide that. We were quite possibly the only "locals" downing Buffalo wings and BBQ chicken pizza that evening.

TGIFriday's * 1680 Broadway, New York, NY

La Paloma

Blech, food for people with weird standards, i.e. my friends. I thought I ordered a quesadilla though it was pretty much a burrito filled with rice (I freakin' can't stand burritos filled with rice, there is no good reason for tortillas and rice to be that close together. God, and I love carbs). Others ordered burritos and they looked like the exact same thing filled with rice. And blasphemies of blasphemies, no one had a menu to order from, they just knew what they wanted (rice-filled burritos, apparently). I wouldn't be surprised if the entire menu was composed of dishes combining, you guessed it, tortillas, beans and rice. Never again.

La Paloma * 359 W. 45th St., New York, NY

Chevy's

1/2 It's not always easy simulating a suburban experience in Times Square, but Chevy's comes the closest. Dinner and a movie in a multi-plex minus the usual parking lot milieu. Just don't look out the windows or pop into the Port Authority bar or arcade or the mirage will be ruined. Don't consult the online menu before going or you'll just be saddened by the jacked-up midtown prices. Hey, paradise don't come cheap.

Chevy's * 259 W 42nd St., New York, NY

Mars 2112

This Paramount-owned, sci-fi "eatertainment" establishment scares me a bit. Back in the day, well '98 when I first moved here, a zine-friend visited from S.F. and wanted to check out Mars 2112. She reported that it looked all slick, mysterious and intimidating at first glance. But upon further inspection it turned out to be an intergalactic, kiddy theme restaurant. We were not deterred. This was in my tightwad, no-money-to-spare days (funny, sounds just like these days) so I was a little nervous about throwing money away on overpriced pizzas and "marstinis," but you've got to throw caution to the wind in the name of novelty sometimes.

Mom and the stepdude saw an ad and wanted to visit. It's the king of out-of-towner restaurants. Really. I don't think they knew what they were in for. An immediate tip off is the warning posted about high blood pressure and pregnancy near the interactive ride to the dining area. I got a little nervous (last time we went through a back way). If you make it through the simulated ride to Mars, you'll be treated to roaming aliens in the dining room and piped in Dead or Alive tunes. Ack, scary. Rosie O'Donnell reportedly loves the place, and if it's good enough for Rosie O'Donnell--hold on--that's the scary part.

Mars 2112 * 1633 Broadway, New York, NY

Harley-Davidson Cafe

Maybe it was because I wasn't in the highest of spirits the day of my visit, but the prospect of a theme restaurant didn't give me the rush I've come to expect. It was a concession to the stepdude, husband of my mother. I'm all for keeping him quiet and happy, and besides, he paid. It's food, food, you know. Burgers, sandwiches and pastas priced about $3-$4 over their true worth. It's all about atmosphere, right? The funny thing is that I've never really associated D2's "New Moon on Monday" with bikers. You live and you learn.

Closed: who knows when?

Harley-DavidsonCafe * 1370 Avenue of the Americas, NewYork, NY

Plataforma Churrascaria

Yes, it's true. Nothing says I Love You like meat, meat and more meat. I did find Churracaria Plataforma to be a mildly odd Valentine's dining choice. But I wasn't disappointed, I had wanted to try the place and I've never gone in for any of that oysters, champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries, intimate dining nonsense. This un-subtle choice actually kind of made me feel relieved. Stuffing yourself silly on the most romantic of holidays is a brilliant idea, if you ask me.

I'd been to Riodizio, which didn't even have a salad bar so I was pretty excited about Plataforma (even though I know you're not supposed to fill up on the side dishes). This is sort of the king of NYC rodizios, at least in price and popularity. The salad bar is enormous with selections like sushi (strange for a Brazilian place, though I hear there's a large Japanese population in the country), hearts of palm, a handful of different seafood concoctions, green salad, shrimp, vegetables and loads loads more.

Then once you're done with that course, the games begin. You flip your coaster from red to the green side and the meat starts filling your plate--like five different beef preparations, chicken, sausages, salmon, pork loin, ribs, etc. On top of this, they bring side dishes to the table to accompany the meat: rice, fried plantains, polenta, asparagus, mashed potatoes and this confusing one I never figured out--it looked and tasted like a large plate of bread crumbs with bacon mixed in. What the heck do you do with that?! (I've since learned that it's farofa, toasted manioc flour that should be sprinkled over anything soupy).

Of course I couldn't resist a piece of coconut caramel cake and a glass of dessert wine (stiff caipirinhas were already sipped with dinner) to round things out.

I was interested in seeing what sort of crowd Plataforma would draw on Valentine's Day. It was a melting pot really. We had some pouty Eastern European girl on our left who shared three heaping plates of salad with her date and then not surpringly ate little else when it was time for the meat. Sheesh, what's the point.

Originally on my right, was this freaky, frumpy couple. The guy never took his stocking cap off, the girl was all stringy-haired, they barely exchanged a word. I could see them getting excited about the upcoming Lord of the Rings movie and sitting around engrossed with their Playstation or hanging out in Xena chatrooms.

They were replaced with a livelier couple, though I can barely remember the woman since I was too busy checking out the guy's sparkling diamond earring and glistening jheri curl (to be honest, it wasn't a full blown jheri curl, but that's how I like to remember it).

The couple I was most fixated on were the little hipsters sitting behind James. Didn't they have someplace cooler to go? I mean, Plataforma verges on carnival-like (and the contorting piano player was charmingly grotesque), but it's not really campy enough to go just for shits and giggles. The girl looked like she was in grade school and had the ten-year-old-boy Williamsburg body to finish the look. The guy was a bit older and was wearing a muscle tee (so hard for guys to pull of that '80s retro look) with a green Space Invaders-like character on front, had a giant funky, rectangular, flat-screened watch, compact futuristic Sony camcorder, horn rim glasses and lots of shopping bags. He was all Mr. Gadget/internet millionaire chic. So gross. What really irked me was the way the girl let her chocolate mousse just sit in front of her for like 15 minutes without touching it. I was this close to going over and eating it for her.

A night to remember? In a way. The food did me right, but I ended up having a bit of trouble with my tights falling down in Time's Square on the way home. But that's a whole other sad story.

Churrascaria Plataforma * 316 W. 49th, New York, NY