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1/2 I knew the end was near when I recently started seeing ads tacked up on corners all over SW Carroll Gardens. (12/30/09)

I’m still very suspicious about all of this coal oven discovery in NYC. I was under the impression that they were rare beasts but it seems like they're common as twin strollers in Brooklyn. Maybe coal ovens have been unearthed during building renovations for decades yet only in recent history has there been an insatiable market for coal oven pizza.

And pizza in general. I haven't given in to burger or cupcake mania and it seems that in my hesitation I've also missed out on the new and semi-recent spate of pizzerias: Veloce, Co, Keste, Motorino…what else…ok, I’ve never eaten at Roberta’s or not-new-at-all Franny’s either. I’m just not a pizza fanatic. I do feel kind of blessed to live three blocks from the country’s second-best pizza according to GQ, not that I can ever actually get a table at Lucali. (I really wanted to work a fuhgeddaboudit in there but refrained because I'm not 100% cornball and this isn’t the New York Post, though now writing about what I omitted then typing it anyway is a worse crime.)

So, I figured I could handle trying Anslemo's, a recent addition in Red Hook. Definitely no mob scene there; on a Saturday night over Memorial Day weekend there was only two other tables occupied, one takeout order, two EMTs who wanted to see a menu, and a couple of neighborhood kids playing hide and seek under the tables until getting shooed away. First they were asked to leave nicely, then after getting no response, the kids were questioned, "Do you speak English?" The grade schoolers in Carroll Gardens could use a little such harassing. (Actually, I’ve recently noticed when I work from home that the shrieking hormonal pre-teens who hang out in front of my ground floor windows start getting yelled at by some authority figure around 3:40pm. A woman pops out of the school's door, where a policeman is currently standing, directly across the street from my living room window and starts screaming, “It’s time to go home! Let’s move along, people!” I like her.

Anselmo's pie

At this point, Anselmo’s strikes me as more of a fast food joint dressed up as a restaurant and that's fine. The lack of a liquor license (they do serve unsweetened black tea, which I greatly appreciate as a sweet drink loather) smallish pies and current absence of air conditioning (a blasting pizza oven coupled with 80+ degrees and high humidity was kind of brutal) don’t exactly encourage lingering.

They don’t do slices, which seems to have stymied locals, but the individual 10" pizzas are only $6 and that's what the single walk-ins are steered toward. I'm still not clear on the math of the 14", the larger size offered being $14. Wouldn't it be more economical to order two smaller pizzas? Toppings are $1.75 each regardless of size so if you were loading up, I supposed one pie makes more sense.

Anselmo's crust

We split a 14” pepperoni and artichoke heart, which we plowed through in no time. The pizza isn't filling. The crust has a nice char and so too the rims of sliced sausage. The mozzarella was generous and the strands of basil were well distributed. While the crust is fairly thin, it is still firm with no bubbling and sags a bit under the toppings.

I would be inclined to return and try more toppings (though maybe not the brie). If it were walking distance, I would stop by regularly. And that might end up being the trouble, it's not quite a destination, nothing in Red Hook really is despite how the media portrays the area. It’s a ghost town at night. But if you’re someone who breezes through the neighborhood to shop at Fairway or Ikea, it’s worth stopping by.

Anselmo’s * 354 Van Brunt St., Brooklyn, NY

Soupy Sales

Cheddarbroccoli For reasons not even entirely clear to myself, I enjoy hearing what consumers want to eat (yet never lump myself in with this faceless mass of Americans).

According to a recent series of reports, "The Left Side of the Menu," from Technomic, the number of "heavy" (not defined) consumers of appetizers is shrinking. Big salad eaters shrunk from 51% in 2007 to a current 33%. The soup-crazed stood at 25% two years ago but now only make up 15% of all diners. I'm guessing that's probably because it's hard to split soup, and I'm with the whopping 82% who feel appetizers should be shared.

But the number I'm trying to figure out is the 40% of Americans who want more "ethnic soups." What exactly is an ethnic soup? Something like pho? Laksa? Menudo? Does Italian wedding soup count? I think they used to serve that at Ikea. I vote for cock-a-leekie.

I took a look at the online menus from the top five casual chain restaurants in 2008 according to Restaurants & Institutions:

  1. Applebee's: chili, French onion soup, tomato-basil. Hmm, Tex-Mex, French and Italian. It all sounds pretty ethnic to me.
  2. Chili’s: chili (duh) and “soup of the day.” Lame.
  3. T.G.I. Friday’s: broccoli cheese, French onion and once again, the dreaded soup of the day.
  4. Ruby Tuesday: white bean chicken chili or broccoli and cheese.
  5. Cheesecake Factory: soup of the day.

Ok, not only are we clearly in need of more ethnic soups, how about something other than chili (if you even count that as a soup), French onion and cheese and broccoli?

Hollow Inside


Whoa, it takes a lot to gross me out food-wise. My only real hang-ups are melons, edible flowers and stems. I have a hard time with raw foliage. For what felt like years (it was probably only one) during grade school there was a potted African Violet in the center of the dining table and I couldn't look at the thick, furry stems while eating my morning Grapenuts and yogurt without my throat clenching up. Too much nature first thing in the morning.

It still really grosses me out to see spinach, arugula and the like with tough protrusions hanging off the leaves (cooked spinach doesn't bother me unless there is an egregiously firm tail or two that survived the sautee). I'm also scared of currently in fashion fiddlehead ferns, one reason why I've never visited any super-jungle-y parts of Malaysia—this wild plant worries me way more than sago worms.

I've been waiting for a real Hunan restaurant to show up in NYC but I most definitely won't be ordering the Hunan House's "hollow stem vegetable" pictured above and blogged about on Fork in the Road today. An all stem dish?! I'm going to have nightmares.


Dining at 10pm on a Friday in the Carroll Gardens environs isn’t as easy as you’d think. I wanted Middle Eastern but not Zaytoons, and that still left plenty of Atlantic Street options. Normally, I would head to Waterfalls but they close at 10:30pm. Yemen Café, another favorite, didn’t strike me as a promising candidate either. I felt remiss in never having tried Lebanese Tripoli, which on the surface is the grandest of the lot.

But not so grand that bringing a bottle of Charles Shaw Shiraz caused much shame. Honestly, I thought the bargain wine was a better than decent, fruity compliment to the rich food. We all conceded that it was more likeable than the random red "Vinos de Madrid” we’d been drinking earlier that cost three times as much.

Tripoli appetizer plate

This was an appetizer plate shared among three. There was plenty of everything: salty cheese cubes, olives, hummus, babaganouj, falafel and my favorite, pickled beets.

Tripoli kibbee mishwiye

I was expecting the kibbeh, or as it’s called here, kibbee mishwiye, to be cut in squares like at Waterfalls, but these were dense ovoid lamb patties. Beyond cracked wheat and onions I’m not exactly sure what rounds out the ground meat mix. That’s fine, it’ll keep me coming back for more. I saved the second blob and some salad for later, and with a smear of hummus, it made a great sandwich enrobed in toasted multigrain bread (pita would’ve been ideal but I didn’t have any).

As to my never fully explained phobia of being the last diner in a room, it still came true. I thought we’d be safe with an 11pm closing time but we still ended up victims of lights being turned off and chairs being shuffled. Either I need to get over my irrational concern or find later night restaurants in the neighborhood.

Tripoli * 156 Atlantic Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Celebrity Diets

Readingrainbow.jpg Before doing whatever it is you do on a Memorial Day weekend, take a second (a minute would be too long) to ponder these recent celebrity food queries that have sadly led strangers to my site. Sad, because I'm of no help.

dose zack efron like steak and apples blended?

Levar burton wasabi

Personally, I have no opinion on whether Disney stars like eating baby food (though, apparently, he has indulged in a meat-fruit shake) but any mention of Geordi La Forge brings a smile to my face. I bet the man likes wasabi. @levarburton has 534,036 followers on Twitter, maybe I should just ask him how he feels about the spicy root.

The Old Bay Restaurant

1/2 Despite lacking any serious intentions of moving, I do everything I can to not be in New York on weekends. I should consider myself lucky to live in a spacious apartment in a coveted Brooklyn neighborhood, and I do, but that doesn't mean I get satisfaction roaming around my own environs. My surroundings are about the new, the in, the crowded, what's been written about. Being in the thick of things can be fun but frequently I want the opposite.

Others have second homes to remedy this urge. Though I scoff a the luxurious concept, I have known absolutely non-wealthy people (social workers, office assistants) who share cramped NYC apartments to afford a weekend home to flee to by train 6pm on Friday.

I'd rather approximate a comfortable nest here and escape to the suburbs every couple Saturdays, if only to sit in a car with only one other person, shop at well-stocked box stores with helpful staff and eat bad-for-you chain food. It's not only grounding, it restores my sanity and enables me to face those three painful subways Monday morning.

(I really enjoy complaining about the absurdity of living three miles from my office, a straight shot across the East River [don't go stalking me, now] yet having to take three subways five stops, or two subways four stops plus a 12-minute-walk to get there. And maybe if I get it out of my system here I won't have to go into therapy to control my anger. I've actually figured out a tolerable morning solution [it doesn't work going home because the M and R don't share a station in Manhattan]. If I buy an unlimited card I can take the F two stops to Jay St. get out of the station and walk one block to Lawrence St. to catch either the R to Whitehall St. or M to Broad St. on the same platform. If it's after about 9:40am, the M has stopped running for the rush hour and it's R only, but this route can shrimk a typical 40 minute commute into 25 minutes.)

I've tried branching out but Westchester and Long Island do not provide the nearby solace I seek. Only New Jersey will do. I don't know that I would live there, not because of its stigma—that means nothing to me because I grew on the west coast, likewise, I can't understand New Yorkers who get off on Portland—but it certainly wouldn't add any sanity to my commute and no one would ever come visit.

There was no question that if one were to see Star Trek on opening weekend it would have to be in New Jersey. I'm not a trekkie by a long shot, but it's something to do on a Saturday. I was hoping for an empty house at 11:30pm in New Brunswick and nearly got it. I don’t think there were more than ten people in the entire huge theater. And I was pleased to see human versions of the Comic Book Guy, four men had shorts, ponytails and large guts.

But first, we had to eat. New Brunswick is a happening scene (and apparently, rocking). The miniaturized downtown strip has that trying be glossy, martinis, steakhouses and dressy Italian food style (I'm also picturing grand pianos but that's probably wishful thinking), that ends up looking '90s. It's how I imagine Houston or Atlanta looking. I've never been to either city but that was exactly my impression of the area around Beale Street in Memphis. I had been expecting more grit and less casual upscaleness. Of course, this is only like a two-block stretch of New Brunswick.

Old bay chile martini The Old Bay Restaurant appears to have a lively bar scene, a scary scene, frankly but what would you expect from an establishment with the slogan, "Every day is Mardi Gras?" I didn't think the Cajun-ish food would be very promising and it wasn't really. But sometimes it's more about the experience than the food. It's not as if there is great New Orleans cuisine in Brooklyn either.

The Cajun martini was actually kind of foul, not so much because of the spice but it tasted too much like food. Pepper vodka, green Tabasco and olive juice with a chile rim.I don't mind blue cheese-stuffed olives in a martini, though, and that's definitely food.

Old bay andouille and garlic croutons

They were big into "sharing plates" i.e. appetizers. They had run out of the crab and spinach dip, which implies my taste in appetizers is on the mark and very mainstream. Instead, we had the andouille and croutons. Is that even a real dish? It was fine in a junk foody way but seemed improper somehow.

Old bay duck jambalaya

I'm not even crazy about jambalaya, gumbo and etoufee and only trust them in their natural habitat. Maybe it's terroir but they never seem to work outside of the Gulf Coast. So, I didn't see the harm in eschewing tradition for orzo (tricolored, no less) with sliced duck breast. It was ok for what it was, not terribly exciting, at least the duck wasn't overcooked and managed to retain crispy skin.

With a bit under half an hour to kill, we grabbed a pint at Tumulty's, a Germanic place decorated with dark wood beams and toy trains that I mistook for an Irish pub. Maybe it is an Irish pub, though there's Cajun shrimp on the menu, I can't figure it out. Everyone at the bar was eating some very good looking burgers. That's what we should've had for dinner.

The Old Bay Restaurant * 61-63 Church St., New Brunswick, NJ

La Vaguada

Ok, this is it, no mas. I'm finally finished the with sporadic Madrid recapping. But I would feel empty inside if I didn't briefly mention my mall excursion. I always visit a mall when on vacation. Obviously, I only travel to big cities, but even Penang had one, which only surprised me a little since Asians have quite an affinity for mall culture. Only Mexico City posed problems with its Santa Fe mall hidden way on the outskirts, inaccessible by public transportation. (Not really surprising at all considering their seeming lack of a middle class. Maybe that's why NYC can't sustain a proper mall either, too-rich and too-poor all smooshed together.)

La vaguada

Madrid had more than one centro comercial to choose from; we picked La Vaguada because you can get there smoothly on the subway. I figured it would be a rinky-dink Manhattan Mall atrocity, but it was the real deal with an enormous supermarket, or rather a hipermercado, Alcampo, that was way larger than Fairway, and that was just the bottom floor. Upstairs, they sold washing machines, plus-size smocks, saws, and more relevant to my needs, a cheap corkscrew. I should know the answer to this since I cover retail topics at work (I’ll look into it tomorrow) but why do we not have grocery stores inside US malls? Here, I'd appreciate the convenience. In other countries, for the fun of experiencing packaged foreign food.

I feel self-conscious taking photos inside grocery stores, but do regret not capturing the entire towering aisle heaving with hoof-on whole jamon. Canned seafood is also allotted an unusually large proportion of shelf space.

The heart (or I guess if you were corny like me, you could say stomach) of any mall is its food court. I didn't know what to expect from a Spanish food court. And it wasn't really fast foody (no Cinnabon but a homegrown chain Canel Rolls with savory versions like cheese and bacon) but a level ringed by sit down restaurants and tapas bars (and a hair salon, movie theater and video store), almost exclusively Spanish in culinary style.

Vaguada food court

Bocatin is a taberna specializing in sandwiches, a.k.a. bocadillos. Way in the background is Gran Sol Marisqueria  and Cervecería. I like that beer is prominently mentioned everywhere. Drinking in an American mall just seems weird.

Cantina mariachi

The non-Iberian offerings included The Wok, Istanbul, L'Alsace and Cantina Mariachi. It was also hard to ignore the plywood covered a giant coming soon ad for Taco Bell, fittingly with a larger than life packet of mild salsa. The first public (naval bases don't count) Taco Bell in the country opened not so long ago in December. The chain has never been a success in Europe (or Mexico, duh) so I wonder how the Spanish will take to Crunchwraps.

Gambrinus cerveceria exterior

We chose a random casual eatery, Cervecería Gambrinus, that I later saw all over the place. Their logo is a portly pageboy’d Falstaffian guy called Gambrinus. From what I could deduce the lore is German not Spanish. Maybe it’s like our use of Friar Tuck in association with drinking establishments.

Gambrinus cerveceria gambas al ajillo

I love gambas al ajillo, maybe even more so for the saucy remnants. I could just pour the shrimp, chile and garlic infused olive oil into and dish and eat it alone with crusty bread.

Gambrinus cerveceria chicken wings

Ok, so we ordered chicken wings, a.k.a. alitas. You get what you deserve doing such a thing but we were curious. Pallid tomato sauce inevitably accompanies fried chicken parts in other places (marinara in Hua Hin). I realize putting blue cheese or ranch dressing on poultry is an American abomination.


Because I'm childish this café gave me pause. I thought a bit, and duh, it's a cute abbreviation of Vaguada Mall.

Vaguada market

One of the cool things was that despite housing a clean modern supermarket (and a weirdo smallish storefront that only sold packaged frozen food—can you imagine an entire store devoted to Tombstone Pizza, Banquet Chicken and Hungry Man Dinners?), the shopping center also had a series of rows emulating traditional market stalls: seafood, produce, dried legumes and nuts, butchers, cheese and the like.

Just across the way, on the same floor, was a tattoo parlor. Not so traditional, I would say.

La Vaguada * Monforte de Lemos 36, Madrid, Spain


Sandwich I could eat a banh mi every day of the week, but still, you have to admit the city has become oversaturated in the past few months. I can play devil's advocate, check out my banh mi alternatives in Metromix.

Since I wrote this, two new contenders have already sprung up: Aamchi Pao and Asia Dog. Long live Asian sandwiches of all stripes.


Yips2 This is $2.60 worth of food. Ok, oily, sitting out food, but sometimes it hits the spot. Leeks, mushrooms, bbq pork and sesame chicken. (6/5/09)

I’ve developed a strange new obsession with Yip’s, a block from my office. I had managed to steer clear of the bi-level (restaurant upstairs, buffet downstairs) Chinese joint for over two years. Curiosity fueled by a cheapskate quest for a few pieces of char siu my cheapskate ways finally got me in the door.

Yip's exterior

Keeping a lunch under $5 (ok, I’ll go up to $6) in the Financial District is no easy feat so the banner touting the $3.49/lb buffet after 1:45pm (and a still not expensive $5.39/lb before then) was perfect since I rarely eat a midday meal before 2pm anyway. And if you spend more than $5 you get a free can soda. I've never hit this mark yet but I wonder if they'll give you bottled water, for some reason water is considered more precious.

The thing is the sweet barbecue pork is nearly gone by 1:15pm and the whole thing is decimated by 2pm. People go nuts for sweet and sour pork, fried fish and spareribs, apparently. There is also traditional salad bar (you know, with lettuce and vegetables—yet also sushi and crab legs) in the center of the room but it gets less play. I couldn’t help but notice the poor tray of bitter melon with beef that had all the beef picked out. The place is full of carnivorous heathens.

Yip's buffet

No, it’s not particularly healthy and way oily but sometimes I need a cheap lowish carb break from my typical midday cup of soup from a carton (black bean chipotle is good, sweet pea puree isn’t bad). I stay away from rice, noodles, heavily breaded things and dense bones (the duck chunks do call my name, though). I end up with 40% vegetables and 60% mixed hodgepodge, a ration I'm trying to reverse.

Yip's lunch

This is what I got for $3.88: salt and pepper shrimp and squid, bean curd with mushrooms, spinach, green beans, roast pork, zucchini and black beans (the chicken had been all picked out). Lots of mismatched items in small doses that are satisfying enough for my junk tooth.

This isn’t my first foray into questionably cheap Chinese food. There used to be a place on the ground floor of a downtown Portland hospital called Dollar Chinese Food. Actually, I don't know if that was its proper name or if it even had one, but that’s what everyone called it because of the $1 Chinese Food advertised on the sidewalk sandwich board. If I remember correctly for $1 you got a small paper plate with rice, a scoop of an entrée of your choice, and I'm fairly certain one of those tiny hard cabbage filled spring rolls.

Yip’s is way less depressing, if you can imagine. (5/17/09)

Yip’s * 18 Beaver St., New York, NY

Kulto al Plato

Kulto al Plato appears to have next to nothing written about it in English. I only knew that it had won best tapas bar of 2008 from Metrópoli magazine, which could mean anything. No one ever agrees with best ofs and I'm not sure what kind of weight that publication holds among food-lovers in Madrid.

From what I had read, it seemed like it would be a nice in-between restaurant, not formal like Sergi Arola Gastro but more creative than a typical tapas bar, being Basque and all (I have no idea why their cuisine is so tradition-breaking). The casual environment with serious food almost feels more Manhattan than Madrileño.

The food is very playful and employs plenty of twists on classics, which obviously weren’t classics for me. That’s the tough thing, it’s not just the language. If you’re a foreigner you’re lacking the appropriate taste memories. I know enough from reading about Spanish cuisine to recognize some of what they were tweaking but have no original dish to compare it with. I’m sure I missed things that locals wouldn’t have.

Kulto al plato menu We chose the eight-dish tasting for 25 euros. If you sit in the restaurant I think you have to do a tasting (there’s also an 11-course version for 40 euros). In the bar, you can order a la carte. There didn’t appear to be any menus, just a giant chalkboard with lots of words using X’s and K’s interspersed with little cartoons and commentary. I was facing the board and close enough to scrutinize much of it (though, sadly not close enough for a decent photo). 

We didn’t really know what we were going to get but it was for the best. Picking from the menu would’ve been a little overwhelming and I’m sure I would’ve missed some gems. It was like a little Spanish culinary lesson. But it’s really about the taste, isn’t it? Would it really matter if a diner came in blind and had never heard of gazpacho? Does identifying the riff make a new-style tomato soup more enjoyable than judging it on taste alone?

Kulto al plato vermouth olives

Aceitunas con vermu. This was a lot of olives for two people or maybe I just have a small appetite for olives. But of course these were no ordinary olives. Thankfully, they weren’t doing that Adrià alginate olive spherification thing that seems to wow people (not that I’m above wowing, but they’ve even done it on Top Chef now). These were real olives, it was the red centers that were faux pimento. Instead the olives were filled with a sweet, boozy gel meant to mimic vermut. I never tried the popular aperitif when I was there, but it’s common enough that bars have it on tap. From what I understand you drink it on ice with a lemon slice.

Kulto al plato vermouth olives packaged

You can also buy a 12-pack to go. I almost considered picking a few up as fun souvenirs. We were flying out the next morning but I was afraid they wouldn’t keep or they’d get confiscated.

Kulto al plato salmorejo with flowers

Salmorejo con brotes y flores. Ack, I knew I wasn’t going to get of Spain without being served flowers. It happened on my last trip too. I have a phobia about eating flowers, even stems on things like spinach, give me the creeps. Not that there’s anything wrong with the taste. I tried to concentrate on the rich, chilled tomato flavor and tune out the pretty foliage.

This menu was like a research project. It wasn’t until I returned home that I could look at my blurry, harshly lit chalkboard menu photo and try to put together what we’d eaten and what half the words meant. Flores=flowers, sure, but salmorejo means nothing to me. Now I know that it’s a cold tomato soup similar to gazpacho, but thicker due to the use of more bread. I think brotes are sprouts in this circumstance but I’ve also seen it as microgreens.

Kulto al plato licorice avocado crab

Txangurro+aguacate+regaliz. We all scream for ice cream, well at least they do in Madrid. Frozen savories seem to be quite a thing, and I’m all for it. Left to right, these tiny spheres were licorice, avocado and crab. Individually, they might be kind of weird but as they melt and flavors meld, it’s just right, though licorice dominated by a hair. The crunchy sea salt atop the sea green scoop added nice texture and salinity. Here’s a recipe and a prettier photo of the dish from their original restaurant in San Sebastian, A Fuego Negro.

Kulto al plato spinach sesame feta salad

Espinaca roja, verde, cebolla y queso feta. The spinach salad was no great shakes. Feta, red onion and lots of sesame dressing.

Kulto al plato tempura

La txiki-huerta en tempera con ketxup casero y ali-oli de patata. I didn’t know what the heck txiki-huerta was (Spanish is enough to decode—Basque is just asking for trouble) and I still don’t, but obviously these were tempura’d vegetables: carrots, onions, chile peppers, eggplant. The dips included homemade ketchup and potato aioli. The aioli was the odd component, for sure. Creamy, rich and yep, starchy not eggy.

Kulto al plato bacalao

Bacalao con “currymigas” sobre coliflor. Salt cod is ok, though I managed to eat not one bite of it until our last day in Madrid when I had it for lunch as part of a menu del dia at La Camarilla (I never wrote about it because it’s wasn’t that exciting—despite how it appears, I don’t actually write about everything I eat), and then again here for dinner. There was no question that this was the superior preparation, but once again, it’s one of those regional things you may or may not know about. Migas that Americans might be more familiar with is the Tex-Mex style using sautéed torn up corn tortillas and eggs, Migas in Spain are breadcrumb-based peasant dish often associated with Extremadura. Of course, I’ve never eaten migas, I just recall reading about them in The New Spanish Table. Book smart, street stupid.

So, they’ve flavored their breadcrumbs with curry and use them as a crunchy garnish for super Spanish salt cod. The thick cauliflower puree offered a nice mild pillow for the strongly flavored fish.

Kulto al plato wagyu burger

“MakcoBe” with txips. Ok, now hamburgers, I understand, they’re speaking my language. But there still had to be an un-American in joke.  There was a cartoon dog next to the menu description with the caption, “De Cobi no!! De wagyu” I have no idea how I recognized the line-drawn dog as the ’92 Barcelona Olympic mascot, Cobi, yet I did and felt very pleased with myself for getting the humor. Essentially, no, it’s not Cobi meat, it’s kobe/wagyu.

All you need to know is that this is a mini burger with chips. The sesame seed bun was adorable and I think it might’ve been ketchup-flavored. The chips were like homemade Terra Chips. Frankly, I don’t remember the quality of the beef at all because I was more caught up in the presentation.

Kulto al plato pineapple cake coconut ice cream

The pineapple cake with coconut ice cream was fairly straightforward. A decidedly non-tropical sprig of rosemary kept the sweets from being too sunny.

Kulto al Plato * Calle Serrano Jover 1, Madrid, Spain