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Apr 4

April Fooled

I haven’t had the April energy to write anything fresh or spring-like yet (I still can’t believe I didn’t know the clocks went forward this weekend. Losing my hour yesterday really pissed me off–I'm still not convinced that a cruel April fool's joke hasn't been played on me. I’ve never understood why we mess around with daylight in the first place). If you get really bored, you can see where I’ve been eating (maybe you have an opinion or two on some of these places?): Ureña, Despaña, Saigon Banh Mi So 1, Dokebi, Mug's Ale House, Yuva, or witness me getting misty eyed over the Metro Mall in Middle Village.

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Apr 2

Hornado Ecuatoriano

I don't think I've ever met a plate of roast pork I didn't like. Lechon, hornado, whatever you call it. Rich, fatty meat and nice crme brulee-crisp skin topping. It's nothing fancy (and certainly nothing healthy) but it's one of my favorite things. Maybe it's because I've never been able to reproduce the moist-crunchy masterpiece at home. And it's for the best, or I'd be digging an early porcine grave.

When I end up on Roosevelt Ave., eating is a must. The tough question is Asian or Latin American? I could easily go either way, but my two top choices along that strip would be Thai or Filipino.

Hornado I never know if it's a language issue or if I'm just hard to understand, though I got what I came for. English isn't really spoken and most of the menu isn't translated, so you kind of have to know what you want (or speak Spanish, duh). James got all weird and randomly ordered arroz con pollo, which I wouldn't do at an Ecuadorian restaurant. The massive chewy yellow rice had bits of chicken strewn through out and a sweet fried plantain draped across the oval dish. He wasn't thrilled, but it's not my fault he ordered poorly.

Me, I had a nice heap of pork, generous pile of white hominy and two little arepas with a side salad that was tasty enough to not completely ignore. This food is filling to say the least. And they say Americans are corn crazy. I love hominy, maybe more than corn. It's chewy and more satisfying on the teeth you can really bite into it. I didn't get one of the fruity batidos that seemed to be on every table (there were a few pitchers of sangria being consumed, as well) though they did look refreshing.

Hornado Ecuatoriano * 76-18 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Apr 1

End of the (M) Line

Metromall_1

When I first saw this article, "Filling a Mall With Art, and a Few Volcanoes," Metro Mall didn't click in my brain. I was thinking of Queens Center. That didn't make sense. Now, Metro Mall, who most definitely wouldn't have a website, makes complete sense for an impromptu surrealist art project.

My first three years of NYC life, I lived walking distance to the Metro Mall. It was my only pleasure during a soul-crushingly hot summer (I'll have to look back at the temperature records for '98. I'm not sure if it was truly sweltering as I recall, or if I was just experiencing weather shock coming from the NW) without a job or air conditioning.

It was depressing by mall standards eight years ago, so I can imagine the disrepair it has fallen into. I mean, it wasn't a mall. They had a Caldor, which was replaced by a K Mart (it's sad when your anchor store is a K Mart), Levitz, Pergament (like a lower end Home Depot), Fashion Bug, Sam Goodie, and?that might be it. Oh, and Weight Watchers office.

The saving grace was the Waldbaum's, a supremely suburban-size grocery store hidden in the back with a parking lot, wide selection and well stocked shelves. I'd browse the huge big-enough-for-two-shopping-carts-to-pass-each-other-without-incident aisles just for fun (I said it was a disheartening summer, didn't I?). Of course, it promptly went out of business, so I was re-resigned to hitting the dingy, cramped Associated on Fresh Pond Rd. Bah.

I still strongly doubt that Middle Village is a hotbed of cutting edge artistic activity, so it is an interesting choice to stage an art show. (For the record, there's a bus that goes from Williamsburg right up Metropolitan Ave. to this location.) Part of me feels possessive of this near-death mall, like the youngsters shouldn't sully it with their bright ideas. But someone should appreciate its clunky charm before it's demolished or turned into luxury condos. Oh my god, talk about ironically cool.

(As a distracting aside, a coworker recently left to go work for the Queens Public Library system and was assigned to the Middle Village branch, which amused me to no end. It's a bit of a walk from the end of the M line, and I swear to God, is inside of a retirement community. I was always scared of the place. The thought of actually working there is kind of mind blowing.)

Update: Oh, never mind the whole thing. The mall cancelled the show after reading the original New York Times article. Now this makes more sense. I had a hard time understanding how such a conservative, stick-in-the-mud neighborhood would've allowed such a thing in the first place.

Photo courtesy of Forgotten NY.

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Apr 1

Beast

1/2 Though hardly far away (maybe twelve minutes by car), Prospect Heights feels a little like a trek. I only ever head that direction to occasionally hit the Target, which I usually eschew in favor of the nicer Elmhurst location, anyway. I liked the idea of Beast, a pubby, neighborhood tapas place, but have never been inclined to pay a visit (I was supposed to go to a birthday party there maybe six months ago, but that afternoon our tire got punctured and blew. And yes, I realize there's such a thing as public transportation in Brooklyn, but this was a celebration thrown by people I barely knew, hence the lack of extra effort. It's tough going east-west).

Maybe it was an off night. (For me, I mean. I was feeling hot and cranky for inexplicable reasons. I don't like spring, I guess.) There's something off-kilter about Beast. I felt unsettled, even after two pints of beer. I can't put my finger on it. I'm not sure if it's the service, the clientele, the atmosphere or what. But most importantly, it seemed like the food had no taste. I can barely even recall what I ate beyond the main ingredient.

We ordered escarole that was studded with pine nuts and raisins. All I can remember is soupiness. There were also cocoa-dusted venison skewers, but all that's coming to mind is meat cubes and grapes on a stick. They rested on beds of something–red cabbage sauerkraut? Sweet potatoes? There was a purple patch and an orange one. James thought the mussels had gone off, I thought they were ok, but strongly flavored. The winey, buttery, tomato tinged broth was the most flavorful thing we tried. It was perfect for dipping crusty bread into.

Oh, the sticky toffee pudding was a late showing highlight. It's nice to find a warm dessert that's not chocolately, oozing and molten.

Beast * 638 Bergen St., Brooklyn, NY

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Apr 1

I Say Pressata, You Say Frescata

Saladbar Laugh all you want about my Wendy's salads, but my Garden Sensations kick that had started to dwindle has been renewed by their new chicken spinach version. No, it's not the most amazing thing you?ve ever tasted. But I daresay it's the least offensive and most filling salad under five bucks in the E. 50s. Spinach, romaine (no, it's not all spinach–that would freak fast foodies out), cubed chicken, bacon bits, hard boiled egg, grape tomatoes, croutons and sweet and sour bacon dressing, and it's ten points (yes, I'm shamefully admitting to semi-following a Weight Watchers regimen. I would never mention this at work because I can?t stand point-tallying office ladies with their Splenda and microwave popcorn full of hydrogenated fat, even though I'm a points counter who works in an office with lots of women) which isn't bad for a salad with "stuff" in it, and less if you omit the croutons and use half the dressing.

Ha, I see Wendy's has finally jumped on the "gourmet" sandwich bandwagon. Surprisingly, these Frescatas aren?t pressed Panini-style, which I thought was all the rage on lunch menus. I should start a contest to find the best made up faux Italian name for a sandwich. Pax (is Europa Caf the same thing?their menu looks the same) across the street has a Pressata. I'm sure that's just the beginning.

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Apr 1

Save a Prayer

We (or maybe, I) find it amusing that a majority of Icelanders believe in elves, yet, it’s earth shattering news that prayer doesn’t really do shit for sick people? The things people will believe in. And even better, people who know they are being prayed for have more complications.

Indian_2

I love it when a potential tragedy is averted and everyone says “our prayers were answered.” Great, so what does it mean when your prayers go unanswered, which is quite a bit of the time? Was God just busy, testing your faith, ignoring you, teaching you a lesson—I don’t know.  Like everyone was praying for the trapped Sago miners, and you pretty much knew it wasn’t going to end well, and it didn’t end well.

Maybe only Anna McCloy prayed hard enough (or maybe the miracle came from the Metallica cd she played for her husband when he was in a coma, and the Taco Bell [not too long ago, I was online trying to find the closest Taco Bell to my apt. I hardly ever eat there, but I do get the urge for a chalupa every now and then. And Yahoo yellow pages insisted there was one at Hicks and Atlantic, which is maybe 15 blocks up the street, but made no sense because that intersection most definitely doesn’t house a TB, it’s just the Long Island College Hospital. Well, I finally figured out that TB is in the hospital, you can see it from the street. I haven’t worked up the nerve to eat hospital crunchwraps yet] she fed him after he regained consciousness).

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