Jan 25
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
Closed: I'm surprised it took this long for American to wither away.
(6/6/05)
Is this vast, oddly-muraled, noisy space for tourists? Parties? Groups?
Kids? Me? I'm not sure the target audience. America strikes me as one of
those places that may have been big before my time. No, not like the '60s,
I'm talking mid-90s.
The 50 states are represented by the obvious like crab cakes (Maryland)
or the invented warm duck salad with soba, watercress and toasted macadamia
nuts (uh, Hawaii). Sometimes they push it a bit. The portions are large, the
prices aren't completely unreasonable and the food is pleasingly mediocre
(not bad, just middling).
My main beef with places like this (Mars 2112 is another in this
category) is their use of the carrot, broccoli and zucchini vegetable
medley, which could only come out of a frozen bag. It's like my mom's in the
kitchen–and speaking of mom, America is exactly where I'd take an
unadventurous visiting parent.
America * 9 E.18th St., New York, NY
1/2
This is a place I've only visited twice, which coincides with my sister's
past two visits to America. She may be vegan, but she loves her junk food in
the way only a Garcia girl can. I suggested Angelica Kitchen this time
'round (though only halfheartedly), and even she wasn't keen on the earthy
prospect. Give me the grease and fakery, right?
Kate's Joint * 58 Ave. B, New York, NY
1/2
First off, I should state that I'm not a big fan of hot dogs. Even at
Nathan's I opt for the cheese fries (love the little plastic red spear). But
since I see hot dogs as one of 2002's big culinary trends, it was my duty to
try at least one of the new kids on the block (Criff Dogs, around the
corner, will have to wait).
The sweet and sour dog with sauerkraut and a tangy onion relish seemed
good enough. We also got a side of cheese fries, not realizing that the
special dogs come with a side of fries anyway. Oh well, a girl can never
have too much starch. Satisfactory, though not stellar. But once again, this
is coming from a non-connoisseur of hot dogs.
Dawgs on Park * 178 7th St., New York, NY
I used to imagine there was an impossibly shaped shared back kitchen between
the cafe and restaurant, but I know it can't be true. It strikes me as
strange that there'd be two versions of the same eatery on the same curving
street, but that's Chinatown for you.
When I'm not in the mood for Noodletown, dim sum or S.E. Asian food (my
three favorites), Sweet 'n' Tart is where to turn. Actually, they serve dim
sum type snacks to order and that's part of their beauty. Seeing the
numerous choices in print rather than passing by on a cart, gets the mind
reeling. You could spend countless visits working your way through their
three(!) menus, sampling oddities like the Malaysian sweet roll or Italian
spring roll. Me, I'm addicted to the turnip cakes.
I've yet to try the congee, tong shui or mysterious bowl of inky black
goo I've seen others downing…there's always next time. (1/11/02)
The latest in my Tues. night, kill time before class, Chinatown solo
ventures. Dim sum type items are always more fun with larger groups, as you
get to sample more varieties. I restrained myself with three choices:
stuffed eggplant, turnip cakes and fried pork vegetable buns. The buns had
the sort of filling you'd see in a noodle type dumpling rather than roast
pork like I'd expected. I think I prefer the dumpling to the bun. I'm also
still curious about the Malaysian sweet roll, but that'll have to wait.
(7/23/02)
It seems classic, but I've never done the Chinatown Christmas dinner. In
fact, I don't usually do anything except mope around the apartment on
Christmas day eating junk food. This year I managed to rustle up one in-town
friend and two friends of hers for Mott St. fun. While Carroll Gardens was a
ghost town, the restaurants below Canal St. were bustling, lines out the
doors, dueling parallel parkers. Luckily, S&T wasn't too bad.
Not to be a control freak, but I do have strong ideas about dining in
groups that I never voice so its not surprising when they go unheeded. I
have a fantasy that one day Ill befriend a dream team to share dining
excursions with. I'deally, four people would get four things (or more) and
everyone could share and have variety. But with vegetarian and/or picky
eaters this becomes impossibility.
No one really wanted what I'd ordered: turnip cakes, salt and pepper
shrimp (all had shrimp issues, exacerbated by the head on presentation) and
scallion pancake. Then two of the party ordered the exact same thing (pet
peeve—and not only mine, it was mentioned in a recent Time Out
NY article about how to annoy waiters), a bean curd and vegetable mix.
To be fair, the fourth member went on a limb and ordered an expensive random
dish of seafood and what seemed like egg or custard in a thick clear sauce
that barely even got eaten. It was a little oddball, I didnt understand the
extreme egginess, and I was already full since I ordered more dishes than
anyone else. I'm not complaining, it sure beat sitting alone in
Brooklyn. (12/25/04)
Sweet'n' Tart Restaurant * 20 Mott St., New York,NY
Most people are familiar with Grimm's fairy tales like, "Rapunzel" and "Cinderella," but not everyone's heard of, "The Louse and the Flea," "King Thrushbeard," or "Fair Katrinelje and Pif-Paf-Poltrie." This is some good stuff, I tell you.
But if you want an introduction to The Grimm Brothers at their loopiest then you ought to become acquainted with, "The Mouse, the Bird, and the Sausage." I can be in the foulest, rottenest mood and this story will crack me up every time. I think it's supposed to be one of those the-grass-is-always-greener tales, but sometimes it's not easy to spot the moral or point in these stories (assuming that there is one). Maybe that's why they're so damn charming.
Once upon a time a mouse, a bird, and a sausage became companions, kept house together, lived well and happily in peace, and wonderfully increased their possessions. The bird's work was to fly every day into the forest and bring back wood. The mouse had to carry water, light the fire, and lay the table, but the sausage had to cook.
He who is too well off is always longing for something new. One day the bird met with another bird, to whom it related its excellent circumstances and boasted of them. The other bird, however, called it a poor simpleton for its hard work, but said that the two at home had good times. For when the mouse had made her fire and carried her water, she went into her little room to rest until they called her to lay the table. The sausage stayed by the pot, saw that the food was cooking well, and when it was nearly time for dinner, it rolled itself once or twice through the broth or vegetables and then they were buttered, salted, and ready. When the bird came home and laid his burden down, they sat down to dinner, and after they had had their meal, they slept their fill till next morning, and that was a splendid life.
Next day the bird, prompted by the other bird, would go no more into the wood, saying that he had been servant long enough, and had been made a fool of by them, and that they must change about for once, and try to arrange it in another way. And, though the mouse and the sausage also begged most earnestly, the bird would have his way, and said it must be tried. They cast lots about it, and the lot fell on the sausage who was to carry wood, the mouse became cook, and the bird was to fetch water.
What happened? The little sausage went out towards the wood, the little bird lighted the fire, the mouse stayed by the pot and waited alone until little sausage came home and brought wood for next day. But the little sausage stayed so long on the road that they both feared something was amiss, and the bird flew out a little way in the air to meet it. Not far off, however, it met a dog on the road who had fallen on the poor sausage as lawful booty, and had seized and swallowed it. The bird charged the dog with an act of barefaced robbery, but words were useless, for the dog said he had found forged letters on the sausage, on which account its life was forfeited to him.
The bird sadly took up the wood, flew home, and related what he had seen and heard. They were much troubled, but agreed to do heir best and remain together. The bird therefore laid the table, and the mouse made ready the food, and wanted to dress it, and to get into the pot as the sausage used to do, and roll and creep amongst the vegetables to mix them; but before she got into the midst she was stopped, and lost her skin an hair and life in the attempt.
When the bird came to carry in the dinner, no cook was there. In its distress the bird threw the wood here and there, called and searched, but no cook was to be found! Owing to his carelessness the wood caught fire, so that a conflagration broke out; the bird hastened to fetch water, but the bucket dropped into the well, and he fell in with it, and could not recover himself, but had to drown there.
Germans don't have the corner on the market where odd tales are concerned. Norwegians have their fair share of legends, many involving trolls. No, not those adorable, mop top Norfin Trolls America has come to love. These are terrifying trolls, examples for naughty children.
My introduction to Troll Kjerringa (Troll Woman, the Troll of Hate), Tusselader (Nuisance Trolls) and Tobi-Tri-Fot came from a scary little 1979 self-published book, Trolls-Trolls-Trolls by one Art "Grandpa" Stavig that I picked up in a thrift store in Gladstone, OR. Grandpa, who was based out of Seattle, had quite a workshop and was a craftsman of all sorts of creepy creatures. When not tinkering, he traveled to local schools and libraries scaring the bejeezus out of little kids (you should see the photos filled with horrified expressions). The full effect is probably lost without the puppets and costumes, but this will have to suffice.
Most of the people in Norway readily agreed that Tobi-Tre-Fot, the Barn Troll, was just about the meanest troll in the land. Other trolls, as a rule, waited for a person to have a moment of carelessness before they moved in to make mischief, and even then, they tried to make it look like an accident had happened, but NOT Tobi-Tre-Fot! Tobi didn't care what people thought nor was he concerned that anyone would learn that it was HE that kicked them–and kicking people was what the really liked to do!
Tobi was so mean that one day in the forest he cut off his OWN leg and put a wooden leg in its place: he believed that he could deliver a more painful kick with a wooden leg. Now hen this troll kicked someone, he practically kicked them into the middle of next week! If that person turned around to see who kicked him, he never saw Tobi, for he was already behind him ready to give him another kick!
When Grandpa told us this story, I asked him, "Grandpa, did Tobi-Tre-Fot kick children too?"
Grandpa answered, "Yes, he often did; hat is, he sometimes kicked the mischievous and naughty ones."
But Grandpa, didn't you say that Tobi was real mean himself?"
Yes, I did."
Did he kick the nice children, too?"
No, he didn't. You must understand, he didn't LIKE any children! He just stayed away from the nice children; he wanted NOTHING to do with them, but he kicked the naughty ones because he became jealous of them. Tobi was very proud to consider himself the meanest creature in the country and when he saw a youngster get pretty nasty, he was afraid that if he didn't do something about it, the brat would grow up to be MEANER THAN HE WAS! When that happened, Tobi would conceal himself behind a door, and when that certain younger came through that door: WWWWWHHHHaaammmmm!
Tobi-Tre-Fot made his home in the farmer's barn. When he chose to visit a certain farm and entered the barn, he expected to find an empty stall to live in while he was there. Most farmers knew this: for this reason they usually built their barns large enough to have more stalls than they neede. Of course, some farmers were stubborn. They were the kind that built the barn to please themselves–NOT Tobi-Tre-Fot! They weren't going to let and TROLL tell THEM how to arrange their stalls! Well, they had no trouble until that sad day that Tobi-Tre-Fot came to call!
Tobi didn't like what he saw. And to prove he didn't like it, he quickly threw all of the farmer's harnesses, bridles and saddles out of the barn window; then he untied all the animals to run loose and get into mischief. Then he took a station behind the barn door–waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to come through that door that he could kick the daylights out of!
Grandpa told us he didn't exactly believe the story of the Barn Troll, but we couldn't help but notice that there was always an empty stall in his barn–even after he came to South Dakota! None of us asked him why.
Lesson of Tobi-Tre-Fot:
CURB A VICIOUS TEMPER. DON'T INTRUDE ON OTHER'S RIGHTS, BUT DEFEND YOUR OWN
Dulce de Leche M&M's My friend Todd tipped me off to this M&M/Mars attempt to win over the Latin American candy market. He saw them while in L.A. recently and said they were too sweet, but I’m still obsessed with why we don’t have them here. I’m such a bigger fan of caramel than chocolate. I discovered that this summer they were being test marketed in L.A., San Antonio, San Diego, Miami, Puerto Rico and Brownsville. It’s not as if NYC is lacking in a Hispanic audience for these things. Hurry up, already.
I never would've guessed that my first meal of the year would be at an IHOP. Especially since IHOPs are few and far between around these parts. I'm not even a big fan of pancakes, but I became a victim of suggestion from the first minute I laid my eyes on their pecan pie pancakes commercial.
I had to find an IHOP ASAP, and a New Year's Day excursion to IKEA seemed as good an excuse as any. I promptly checked Yahoo yellow pages for Elizabeth, and whoo hoo, there was an IHOP only one mile away from IKEA, estimated driving time two minutes.
Yeah right. When they say to use the Yahoo maps only as a guide, they're not joking. Apparently the directions from IKEA to IHOP were calculated from a completely different starting point, who knows where. But after a good solid hour of driving around the sketchy bits of Elizabeth, winding here, turning there, we found the goddamn IHOP, nowhere near IKEA and at least 5-10 miles in a totally different direction than pictured.
All this and they didn't even have the pecan pie pancakes. Not that I should've been surprised. Restaurants that are perfectly run of the mill and moderately respectable in the rest of the U.S. are always trash heaps with no regard for advertised specials in print or on TV in the NYC area. You don't even know how much disappointment ensued from the mysterious absence of the "Never Ending Pasta Bowl" on the Time's Square Olive Garden's menu.
IHOP * Elizabeth, NJ
I never would've guessed that my first meal of the year would be at an IHOP. Especially since IHOPs are few and far between around these parts. I'm not even a big fan of pancakes, but I became a victim of suggestion from the first minute I laid my eyes on their pecan pie pancakes commercial.
I had to find an IHOP ASAP, and a New Year's Day excursion to IKEA seemed as good an excuse as any. I promptly checked Yahoo yellow pages for Elizabeth, and whoo hoo, there was an IHOP only one mile away from IKEA, estimated driving time two minutes.
Yeah right. When they say to use the Yahoo maps only as a guide, they're not joking. Apparently the directions from IKEA to IHOP were calculated from a completely different starting point, who knows where. But after a good solid hour of driving around the sketchy bits of Elizabeth, winding here, turning there, we found the goddamn IHOP, nowhere near IKEA and at least 5-10 miles in a totally different direction than pictured.
All this and they didn't even have the pecan pie pancakes. Not that I should've been surprised. Restaurants that are perfectly run of the mill and moderately respectable in the rest of the U.S. are always trash heaps with no regard for advertised specials in print or on TV in the NYC area. You don't even know how much disappointment ensued from the mysterious absence of the "Never Ending Pasta Bowl" on the Time's Square Olive Garden's menu.
IHOP * Elizabeth, NJ
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