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Alphabet Kitchen

I don't know when they closed since I'm rarely in the East Village anymore.
(11/05)

I've stared at this place's facade what feels like a million times. It's
directly across the street from one of my regular haunts, the creatively
named Bar on A. Even though the word kitchen is in its title, for some
reason it never quite clicked that it was a dining establishment. It's right
next to Brownies and used to be…I'm not sure what it used to be, but I
don't think it was a restaurant.

So, it never occurred to me to check it out until I heard they did a
good, non-mobbed brunch. I still haven't gone for breakfast, but it popped
into my head for dinner recently. It turns out that the cuisine is Spanish,
which certainly put James at ease since that's one of his favorites. More
often than not, I'm dragging him to random Asian places with varying degrees
of success.

A (shared) pitcher of sangria and tapas like grilled squid, crab and
shrimp stuffed eggrolls (getting all fusion on me), mussels, clams and
chorizo were good choices. The tapas are available in small and larger
sizes, and entrees like braised lamb and paella are also on the menu.

Now I've got to see about that brunch. (12/20/01)

Never sit in a back garden in 90 degree weather, no matter how pretty it
looks, no matter that nary a single person is sitting inside. We attempted a
brunch in the blistering heat, and while the food was fine, the seating
arrangement may have not been the wisest. I'll never understand all those al
fresco dining fanatics. (6/30/02)

My first low carb meal in public. What with the bread basket and free
flowing wine, it was tough to sit empty handed drinking tap water. I was
able to survive on chorizo, mussels, endive and machengo cheese. It didn't
kill me. (1/9/03)


Alphabet Kitchen * 171 Ave. A, New York, NY

An Dong

I'm pretty sure An Dong is gone. The space was slowly taken over by a cell phone business. An An Dong child opened Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwiches in the East Village, but I know it won't be the same so I haven't ventured over yet. (6/6/05)

They really only do one thing, and that one thing surely deserves four shovels. Bânh mí (I swear, I'll never go crazy with the accents again–allow me this one annoying indulgence) at its best, at least in my book. I've been obsessed with the unlikely amalgam that is the Vietnamese sandwich for some time now.

One of the good parts about living in Sunset Park (believe me, there's not many) is being able to walk (though it's not really a jaunt at 27 blocks–the neighborhood's large and spread out now that I think about it) to this little gem that many would refer to as a hole-in-the-wall. Actually, it's been remodled recently, creating an even smaller space, but a more inviting one that includes a table and chairs (you could wait a good 10 minutes for your sandwich). For better or worse, the video games surrounded by a constant gaggle of smoking teenage boys is still intact.

Every bnh m joint I've ever been to is similar to this (I've never been able to find the carts that are supposedly near the Manhattan Bridge), from my first experience in Portland to the Chinatowns here in NYC. Small, employing an aged toaster oven and furnished with little more than a counter covered with those green and yellow gelatinous goodies, shrimp crackers and assorted madness that I'm cautious asking about yet purchase anyway (case in point: Shrimp muffins. Odd, fried mung beans molded into muffin shapes with a prawn sticking out of the top, accompanied by a sweet, vinegary dipping sauce.) and filled with mini, square sausage patties with a garlic clove embedded in the top and basil seed drinks. Usually, I'm the only person in one of these places actually ordering food–the video game hooligans and lingering family members are given peripherals.

The biggest deviance I've witnessed was in Toronto where the treats were called Saigon Subs and lines snaked out the door. These places were rapid-fire assembly lines–French rolls were flying and a good handful of women manned the counters.

There's very little spoken interaction. In fact, my first visit to An Dong the woman at the counter appeared to speak almost no English. She held a calculator up to indicate the price of my two bnh ms and bottled water. I shook my head yes when she asked, "no hot?" but meant I did want it hot and couldn't explain properly. Unfortunately the damage was already done–I got a chile-less sandwich. Ouch.

I don't know if it's under new management, but on my last visit there was the aforementioned remodel and the man behind the counter was attempting to be customer service oriented (not something I've experienced, not that anyone's been rude either) and kept telling me I should sit down (I kept standing, I don't know…I was antsy. It's the growing New Yorker in me–you start to feel like if you're not in someone's direct line of vision, they're going to ignore or forget your request).

When my sandwich was ready he said, "French baguette" emphatically and pointed at it. I was like "yeah." And he started going on in a mildly hard to follow way about the French being in Vietnam and that's how the sandwich came to be and then started talking excitedly about Vietnamese coffee. I was happy to have someone who seemed passionate about their bnh m and could express it in fair enough English. I think he thought that I didn't know what I was ordering (this amused me since I can't imagine any non-Asian ever accidentally stumbling into An Dong, having the wherewithal to decode the handwritten poster board menu and order a Vietnamese sandwich.) so he was explaining, but I do know my stuff, and think this is the best rendition of the Vietnamese sandwich I've ever had and told him as much.

I was grasping at some sort of qualifier beyond, "I love these sandwiches" and came up with "these are much better than the ones in Manhattan" which seemed to win his approval. Now I'm primed to return.

And to be honest, I'm not 100% sure what is in a Vietnamese sandwich. I hate to stare, but maybe if I befriend this guy he'll show me specifically what they use. There are different fillings, but the standard seems to consist of roast pork, weird lunch meat, one that's gray (chicken?) and one that might be ham, pate/liver spread (the part that usually trips people up), mayonnaise (the part that trips me up), cucumbers, cilantro, marinated shredded carrots and radish and the optional hot (no joke) chile rings all on a toasted French roll. I've read that Vietnamese baguettes are made with a combination of rice and wheat flour, but I think generally people use French rolls. It's not the sort of thing you want to scrutinize because it can be kind of scary. Have faith, and jeez, if you hate the thing you're only out $2.50.

An Dong * 5424 Eighth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Florent

It was another one of those cranky, can't-get-it-together Friday nights.
This time it was James' company Christmas party that put me in a mood. I
don't know why things always have to be a trauma. Instead of the usual
venue, their easily accessible Wall St. office, the party had been moved
uptown to the Children's Museum. Post-dinner festivities were to be held at
some frat bar called the Gin Mill.

My plan was just to show up at the bar for the free drinks part. But
I've never been up to the 80s and tried some random B train that never came
and. By the time I eventually made it uptown, it was midnight, 1 1/2 hours
later, just in time to miss the free drink cut off and be a part of the lame
12:30 last call. I hadn't eaten dinner either, hoping there's be snacks at
least. And believe you me late night dining in this area was a joke. You
don't even want to know how I mad I was.

James tried to save the day by getting his car (the parking lot is
relatively near the neighborhood) and driving me to Florent for mussels and
fries. They did perk me up a bit. I've always been partial to the Belgian
combo at Diner, but Florent's are pretty darn good too. It all depends upon
what borough you're in when the mood strikes. The evening was semi-salvaged.
And like they say you shouldn't go to bed angry, so I didn't. (12/14/01)


Florent * 69 Gansevoort St. New York, NY

Euzkadi

Sometimes you just feel like you're eating a meal with another person, and
sometimes you feel like you're on a date. With its teetering on hip,
bistro-but-not, relaxed vibe, Euzkadi certainly ventures into date
territory.

Things started off well with the complimentary olive (and anchovy?)
tapenade with crusty bread (that's replenished without asking. Why are
restaurants so sparing with the starches these days? If I were counting
carbs, I wouldn't be dining out in the first place). A mussel appetizer,
stuffed, bacon-wrapped trout and rabbit with roasted potatoes, prunes, the
odd lardon and a red wine sauce soon followed. Everything was much to my
liking: rich flavors, sweet and savory, autumnal to a tee. With a shared
quince tart and bottle of wine, the meal was rounded out satisfyingly.

The evening was a happy accident. I was originally looking for the
Indonesian a few doors down when I got waylaid by this place. Sometimes
ignoring my usual single-mindedness pays off.


Euzkadi* 108 E. Fourth St., New York, NY

Singapore Cafe

I've been all obsessed with Singapore lately so I really wanted to try out
this new Chinatown restaurant and I really wanted to like it. But it was
just one of those bad Friday nights where time gets away, no one can decide
what to do and moods sour. By the time I met James for dinner it was already
10:30pm, fine for some places, but not this particular one. A serious pet
peeve of mine is going to a restaurant that's closing in half an hour. If
possible, I'd prefer to be seated at least one hour before closing. But this
isn't James's way so he doesn't understand my annoyance with being the last
ones in an establishment. Not to get all Meyers-Briggs on you, but it's a J
vs. P thing.

The first strike came when I was told it was too late to order the
laksa, the one thing on the menu I definitely wanted. Fine. The roti canai,
chow kueh teow and jumbo hot & spicy shrimp sufficed, but the overall vibe
was dour. And when the waitress asked for a different $20 bill because the
print was too pale, James nearly lost his shit. I'd be willing to give the
place another try, possibly during lunch time, but there's no way I'll be
able to convince James to accompany me. (12/8/01)

When staff at an Asian restaurant tries steering you away from menu
items, you usually suspect it's a rare delicacy they're afraid to offer to
fussy Americans. At least I used to believe so. I also used to proclaim my
love of laksa. I know there's two breeds: Singapore (which I like) and Asam
(which apparently I'd never had). This was Asam, I was warned and I paid the
price. I have an extremely high tolerance for pungent, strong flavors, but
this was too much. It was like murky swamp water filled with twigs, stiff
leaves, fish bits, beef? and an underlying liver taste offset with sour,
minty notes. I hate to admit defeat, but my stomach honestly couldn't handle
it. I took half home to try the next night, and could only down a few
spoonfuls. The only other flavor I haven't been able to deal with is malta.
Those beverages are completely intolerable.


SingaporeCafe * 69 Mott St., New York, NY

Pizza Hut Lodi

Pizza Hut. What more can I say. After a hard afternoon at the International Food Warehouse, a sit-down suburban-style meal seemed in order. We went wild and ordered not only the large Meat Lover's pizza (which boasts six cheeses–how on earth is this possible? Besides middle-American stand-bys cheddar, Monterey jack, mozzerella and parmesan, what else could they be using?) but Meat Lover's pizza with stuffed crust. Oh, and some cheesy bread too (with tomato dipping sauce). We left full of cheese, grease and starch, yet not fully satisfied. Pizza Huts just don't feel the same as they did in the '80s, though it's entirely possible that tastes refine a bit between the ages of nine and 29.

Pizza Hut * 160 US Highway 46 E, Lodi, NJ

Pizza Hut

Pizza Hut. What more can I say. After a hard afternoon at the International Food Warehouse, a sit-down suburban-style meal seemed in order. We went wild and ordered not only the large Meat Lover's pizza (which boasts six cheeses–how on earth is this possible? Besides middle-American stand-bys cheddar, Monterey jack, mozzerella and parmesan, what else could they be using?) but Meat Lover's pizza with stuffed crust. Oh, and some cheesy bread too (with tomato dipping sauce). We left full of cheese, grease and starch, yet not fully satisfied. Pizza Huts just don't feel the same as they did in the '80s, though it's entirely possible that tastes refine a bit between the ages of nine and 29.

Pizza Hut * 160 US Highway 46 E, Lodi, NJ