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Chain Link: Tim Hortons

Timbits I cannot wait for the Clam and Ham combos and boxes of Timbits to invade Manhattan. I don't really even eat doughnuts (I really want to type donut) but Tim Hortons (love the unnecessary unapostrophed S) reminds me of being on vacation. And with all the poutine swarming the city, we might just have a mini Montreal on our hands.

I'm not sure which is worse, the fact that my boyfriend's mom gives him stuffed animals or that he keeps them. He used to have a toy rabbit we named Tim Horton but I haven't seen the thing in years. Ok, maybe naming stuffed animals is the worst.

Timbit photo from Good Deed a Day

Bittersweet Memories

Vivahate I must admit that I've never gotten fancier than using Stirrings blood orange bitters at home, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the handiwork of others. Pay a visit to my Metromix piece about  bars around town using unusual bitters.

Does Django records in Portland still exist? I think not, though I guess I'll find out soon enough. In the late '80s, the white plastic record divider for the Morrissey section had "he's bitter" written in the same hand as the one-name heading, just below the jump. Someone else had scrawled, "you're stupid" underneath that phrase. Whenever I'd flip through the vinyl, which was frequently, the "you're stupid" got under my skin. Though now, thinking back, the "he's bitter" was the unneccesary commentary. There's nothing wrong with being bitter.

Crustacean Nation

If you ever wanted to know where to find hard shell crab around the city (soft-shells are a different story and much easier to obtain), here is my new piece on Metromix.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to plan a low key birthday party and wish I hadn't already used Clemente's Maryland Crab House two years ago because I hate repeating myself.


I'm old fashioned in some ways, not in that I appreciate tin ceilings and uneven wooden planked floors, but how I kind of like the appetizer/entrée convention. I sound like a grandpa but small plates and big plates commingling on the same menu confound me at times. I never know how much to order and often overdo it.

Rye old fashioned

I did start appropriately with a whiskey old fashioned, though. The cocktails are definitely one of Rye’s strengths and you know they're serious because they're doing the big ice cube. You know, the giant solid square that fits the tumbler perfectly. Ideally, to keep the drink from watering down, though the more shrewd might say it's so the drink looks bigger despite only a few ounces of alcohol. Me, I like the big ice cube. There has been some experimenting with concocting them in my household lately.

Rye sardines Neither of us felt up to doing a full on main course. There was something about the room, despite its grand size, that made me antsy. Maybe it was the absence of air conditioning, an overall lackadaisical sensibility, who knows. So far the entrees are neat and tidy, just five: chicken, steak, vegetable lasagna and two fish. The smaller stuff just seemed more fun.

So, the grill section seems ok for sharing, and if I'm correct the portions increase along with prices as they descend down the menu. The sardine crostini, lying on spinach, had just enough char and good acidity from the vinaigrette.

Rye pork belly with broccoli rabe

Pork belly probably shouldn't be eaten as an entrée. Of course, I didn’t let common sense stop me. This was intended to be shared along with the meatloaf sandwich but slabs on bread hefty enough require tackling open-faced don't lend themselves to splitting. There was sufficient contrast between the thick slices’ browned edges and softer centers. The bitter broccoli rabe and light mustard seed-dotted sauce did help counter the fattiness, though eating more than two rectangles can still be overwhelming.

Rye meatloaf sandwich

The substantial meatloaf sandwich with herbed mayonnaise and topped with thin onion rings. Assorted pickles, both cucumber and otherwise, were a nice touch.

I can see Rye as the type of place you might pop into for a drink and a snack–maybe oysters or duck rilletes–if you live in that inbetween stretch of Williamsburg. But it doesn't strike me as a destination restaurant; they're more of a General Greene than a Buttermilk Channel.

Rye * 247 S. First St., Brooklyn, NY

Offally Similar


I love a nice bowl of tripe-laden menudo and grilled intestines (Argentine a la parilla or Sichuan chong qing, preferably) as much as the next gal, so I’m not exactly complaining about how out of nowhere three blogs have taken up the offal cause. Is it the economy forcing us to take a closer look at cast offs or has nose to tail eating reached a tipping point?

Fork in the Road: Organ Recital
To date, they have eight entries focusing on duck feet, tripe, sheep intestines and trotters, calves liver, pork cracklins, blood sausage, (specifically kiska), liver pudding and head cheese that started back on April 7. The focus is on where to find these delicacies around the city. Relevant to me, perhaps not the rest of the world.

Eat Me Daily: Offal of the Week
Logically helmed by the author of Nose to Tail at Home, one of those pesky cook the book blogs (has Julie &  Julia paved the way for Ryan & Fergus?), this weekly series began April 10 and has quickly covered many classics: liver, trotters, sweetbreads, pig tail and ear, heart, marrow, tongue, kidney, brains, blood and tripe. Each entry includes a bit of history, personal experience and links to recipes.

Serious Eats: The Nasty Bits
So far they only have one entry dated June 29 about lamb’s neck stew and a simple accompanying recipe from The River Cottage Cookbook. I will have to reserve my judgment until I have more to go on.