Posts from the ‘NYC’ Category

Sep 18

Honduras Maya

1/2 This was weird. I tried visiting Honduras Maya on a Tuesday around 7pm and it was closed up tight. When I lived relatively nearby I used to walk past on my way to the gym and always wondered how they stayed in business because there was never anyone inside. I feared they'd finally gone under, which would suck for my story I was trying to put together.

Then the very next day, Suany Carcamo (who I think is the owner) was mentioned in the first sentence of the New York Times's Under $25 column profiling the Red Hook Ball Fields, which seems to have hit mainstream media with a vengeance this summer. Just to pump myself up (believe me, no one else does) I must mention that I wrote about this venue May 2005 (and of course plenty of others covered it the year before) but it doesn't even come up in the first ten pages if you Google it so it might as well not exist.

I get the feeling that Honduras Maya functions more as a social club with sporadic hours and limited menu than a full fledged restaurant. They were open Thursday that same week and we weren't able to get sopa de caracol because the conch was too expensive to serve. Instead, we got baleadas, the ballfield specialty because sometimes it's best to stay simple. If you get a grilled meat plate with rice, beans, plantains, avocado, white cheese slice and salad, you'll also be brought a bottle of Kraft Italian dressing. Such is the side salad in most restaurants anyway.

We were the only proper diners, which lent a slightly spooky feel. There was a handful of young guys going in and out who were drinking beer (which wasn't on the menu) and snacking on baleadas. As we were about to leave a typically "old" Park Slope dad with young boys came in. He seemed to know what he was doing and headed straight back to the kitchen to order, which you might have to do since there isn't a full staff or anyone to greet you when you walk in. I don't know if he was a regular or just bold. Or maybe I'm just a pussy.

Honduras Maya * 587 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Sep 17

Mi Bolivia

It's hard to define an entire cuisine after a single meal. So, I won't. (But I will give an overview of Latin American cuisine that's scarce in NYC.) Bolivian food is kind of meat and potatoes and thoroughly hearty. Must be the Andean air. Many of the dishes come with regular potatoes and chuños (a tiny freeze dried tuber) as well as hominy and rice. Lots of starch and chewiness. I had aji de lengua, tongue in a lightly spiced brown sauce. They also have a peanut soup, sopa de mani, that I've heard about but didn't try. Weekends are soupy at a lot of these places with changing menus of the day during the week.

Salteñas are a heftier empanada with a stewier filling of either chicken or beef. They're served with a green salsa that our waitress pointed out wasn't called salsa. Instead of the Spanish word they use yagua. At least that's what she wrote down for me, but after some sleuthing it seems like llajwa is the more commonly used term. Either way, it's nice with a salteña. There is one other Bolivian restaurant in NYC named Nostalgias (love the added S, like how McGriddles is singular) and I'd definitely be willing to give it a try.

Mi Bolivia * 44-10 48th Ave., Sunnyside, Queens

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Sep 17

Tierras Centro Americanas

Other the Pollo Campero, there aren't any other Guatemalan restaurants in the city that I'm aware of. And it doesn't appear that Tierras Centro Americanas is going out of its way to get the word out (my editor had to call and plead for 15 minutes to convince the owner to allow us to send a photographer for an article on lesser known Latin American food…and then they didn't end up using a photo anyway). This place used to be called Xelaju and appears to have recently changed names. There's also a Salvadoran flag on the wall and pupusas on the menu, which might reflect new ownership. The clientele seemed heavily Guatemalan, though.

Unless you live in Eastern Queens, getting to this little storefront is a bit of a trek. And once you arrive, the scene might be mildly conflicting. On my visit the staff seemed very nervous and reluctant to approach us. I wasn't sure if it was the language barrier, if they thought I was going to deport them or what. I almost felt in need of one of those worry dolls. But the Sunday afternoon customers were insanely friendly. Nearly someone at every table wanted to help us order and make suggestions.

A large family suggested that I take a picture of who appeared to be the matriarch in a traditional dress. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch what it was called or the region it was from. A guy at the table on my other side confided that these handmade dresses can cost $1,000 and are for special occasions. Hey, why can't soup in Jamaica be a special occasion?

I was only able to sample a few items so I can't speak with expertise on Guatemalan food. It's not like Mexican but they do serve thick fresh corn tortillas with everything. It was recommended that I order a soup so I tried caldo de res, a hearty beef concoction that felt fortifying and healthy as it was teeming with vegetables like green beans, chayote, potatoes, yucca, carrots and cabbage. That would've been plenty, but I had to try the salpicon because it sounded so crazy and un-Hispanic. With chopped beef, cilantro, onion, lime juice and radishes served with rice it was suspiciously similar to Thai larb. It's not spicy and has the oddball radish, but it felt Asian. James lamed out and had tacos, which are probably what Americans would call flautas, little rolled up things.

Tierras is the kind of place where the jukebox will spontaneously blast Spanish death metal and then segue into a sappy ballad and Chinese women go table to table hawking bootleg dvds and customers actually buy them. One mom snatched up Snakes on a Plane (and a Sponge Bob disc) a day after opening in the theaters. That's so not Carroll Gardens and I totally appreciate that.

Tierras Centro Americanas * 87-52 168th St., Jamaica, NY

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Aug 30

Where Subways Fear to Tread

The Sunday before last, I needed to kill time in Queens so I decided to check out Glendale’s mall-in-progress, The Shops at Atlas Park because I like going places where subways don't reach. I’d eaten lunch in Sunnyside and also had to eat dinner in Jackson Heights, but didn’t want to go all the way back home to Brooklyn to wait for my appetite to reappear (I have harbored fantasies about somehow being able to remove meals, without barfing, so you can immediately eat another).

I wouldn’t say I’m a mall connoisseur, but I do have my standards. And while I realize this shopping center isn’t fully realized, this one didn’t do much for me. Even though Atlas Park is brand new and ‘00s style, there’s something about it that reminded me of an old beat-up long gone Portland mall called Eastport Plaza. I took a bunch of photos of the raggedy half-empty collection of stores back in the pre-blogging, mid-‘90s but I’m sure what I did with them.

It had its hey day in the early ‘80s and was never much to look at even then. It was small (note that mall wasn’t in the name either) and had stores like Newberry (R.I.P.), Frederick’s of Hollywood, Doo-Da (a Spencer’s rip off) and Orange Julius. (I saw santa there when I was five or so and he said, “here’s a candy cane for your brother.” Hmm, I didn’t have a brother.) Now one of Portland’s only Wal-Marts (weird that both locations are on 82nd Ave.) is in the old space and they’ve completely remodeled the block into a strip mall, (is that website classy or what?) complete with an Izzy's, my favorite NW pizza buffet. I'd dare say it's the same clientele that was attracted to the old busted mall.

All that was open at Atlas Park was a J. Jill, an Amish Market (which I don’t think is Amish but merely a chain of overpriced midtown delis), California Pizza Kitchen and Stein Mart. I had been curious about Stein Mart because I’ve seen TV ads, but have never set foot in one (this is the only one in NYC). It felt like a pricier Marshalls, which is amusing because I used to think Marshalls was a more expensive Ross (which they don’t have in New York state). There’s nothing remarkable about Stein Mart unless you like decorating your home with 3-D wood cut-outs spelling inspirational words like “peace” and “family.”

The movie theater was also open and we did that thing that normally baffles me—just showing up with no plan and picking a movie on the spot. Little Miss Sunshine was the lesser of the cinematic evils on offer (I swear I’m not a snob, I just like movies with dialogue and regular kinds of characters where not a lot happens and you end up feeling kind of sad. I would like to see Half Nelson and Factotum in the immediate future). I will say that Regal Cinemas has insane customer service. Everyone’s cheerful and full of hellos and thank yous. No one talks, let alone yells, during the film. I was kind of scared. This is the anti-Court Street Stadium. Even the kid with a broom and dustpan who walked in front of our row during the movie whispered excuse me.

I wouldn’t mind paying The Shops at Atlas Park another visit in 15 years (oh my goodness, I just realized that would make me 49) and seeing if it has turned all ghostly and dilapidated like Eastport Plaza.

The Shops at Atlas Park * 8000 Cooper Ave., Glendale, NY

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Aug 25

Nha Trang Palace

I’m on my Barcelona kick, but this pre-vacation meal has been sitting in the hopper and I can’t just toss it out for bigger and better things. I really like Vietnamese food, but for me it’s kind of a back burner cuisine. When I think Asian, Thai, Chinese or Malaysian pop into my head first. Vietnamese feels healthy to me and I’m not always in a healthy mood. And now that I think about it, I almost only ever eat the same three things: banh mi, cha gio or pho. I need some serious horizon expanding.

I had originally planned a birthday party for July 28, yet somehow decided to cancel it, had zero celebration whatsoever, ended up eating soup in Sunset Park and going to bed relatively early. And who says 34 isn’t fun? At least I got an ice cream cake.

I'm always amazed by the many permutations of pho available at most Vietnamese restaurants. I usually stick with the everything but the kitchen sink dac biet approach. The ingredients do differ. Here the $5.25they included verbatim: six difference brisket, navel, frank, omosa, tendon and eye of round. Ok, frank I think is flank. I'm a little scared of what navel and omosa are, though at least one must be a variation of tripe, as there were bumpy white sea creature looking strips in the bowl. I do like the meaty contrasts of crunchy, gelatinous and chewy, and how the paper thin rare round cooks in the broth.

The accompaniment plate had basil, lemon wedges and bean sprouts. Sometimes you get jalepeno, but not here. Of course, no one’s stopping you from adding a little “rooster sauce.”

We also had cha gio because fried rolls are always irresistible, but they weren't remarkable here. The filling was very porky, maybe a bit too much so and the wrapper was bubbly from the oil, but lacked a crisp bite.

Nha Trang Palace is likeable, but no great shakes. If you’re ever in Sunset Park and want pho, it’s as good as any.

Nha Trang Palace * 5906 Eighth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Aug 14

Cookshop

I knew this would happen. My birthday somehow seemed to get lost in the shuffle this year. This was my annual celebratory dinner from way back in July. Now I've already gone on vacation and it's practically the middle of August. Barcelona is fresh in my mind and Cookshop seems like old news despite being a very charming restaurant.

Every time I've started to describe Cookshop to someone it ended up sounding mundane. Nice or interesting don't really cut it. To say, "I had a salad with blue cheese and bacon" doesn't really cut it. But I did have a salad with blue cheese and bacon. Simply, the food tasted like food…but better, and that's kind of novel. Rather than elaborate, I'll show some semi-pretty pictures.

Nice to see that carbs are back. I could've sworn the dip had tarragon in it, but supposedly it was a creme fraiche and onion blend.

Chile dusted fried hominy is a total appetite killer. I could eat the whole plate myself, though it's probably best suited for sharing.

Here's that bacon and blue cheese salad. I was thinking that it was iceberg, but I think it was butter lettuce. It was one pile of rich, creamy goodness.

Heirloom tomatoes, opal basil and fried cornbread chunks. This is a perfect example of the simple food food approach.

Sea bass with zucchini and I'm not sure what else since this wasn't my dish.

Grilled rabbit with polenta, favas and salsa verde. This was the dish I was least crazy about. Maybe I'm not fond of rabbit as I thought.

Warm donuts, buttermilk ice cream and blueberry compote.

Brownie, caramel, cocoa covered almonds and what I think was coconut ice cream.

Cookshop * 156 Tenth Ave., New York, NY

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Jul 29

Peppa’s Jerk Chicken

It doesn't seem right, but I don't think I've ever had jerk chicken. Real, fake, or anything in between. So, to become acquainted I thought I should start at the top. I really need to dig into that strip of Flatbush Ave. with West Indian everything. Bakes, doubles, roti, I don't know that food well and it's not because I don't want to (I love how doubles is singular like a McGriddles). I'd read about both Danny Express and Peppa's, which are a block apart and used to be one restaurant Danny and Pepper (food feuds seem rampant in NYC). I didn't have the appetite to try both, so I'll have to return for Danny (and the fascinating De Bamboo Express across the street. I thought Chino-Cuban and Indian-Chinese were it, but Trini-Chinese is crazy–they have freaking jerk lo mein on the menu. I'm also curious what "provisions soup" is).

I wasn't sure how to order, as there were maybe five different prices listed for the jerk chicken. James said large, which I think was the $10 choice. I do know that the total bill was $12 and we had two ginger beers and I'm guessing the sodas were closer to $1 apiece than $2, though I could be wrong and we ordered the $8 portion of poultry. You get a round aluminum take out container filled with rice and beans topped with hacked up chicken and a little salad wedged into the corner. Before they pack it up (it's a bare bones take out joint with a counter and no seats) you can sauce your bird. They offer bbq sauce, which is odd and the scotch bonnet sauce, which makes more sense.

I think James went a little wild with the hot sauce, so it's hard to offer a true flavor profile of the meat. Obviously, there was an overwhelming spicy hit at first, but underneath a sweet, peppery woody taste emerged. I'm not sure what I had expected, but the chicken was far tastier than I'd anticipated. We definitely could've eaten more than we ordered. Initially, it looked like too much to eat, but that was because the rice and beans take up the bulk of the container. Normally, I'm pretty so-so on rice and beans but these were particularly appealing with a thick and smooth mouth texture. All I can guess is that there must've been lard or animal fat of some kind in them.

I was recently in a meeting at work and we were discussing our potential client, a chain restaurant that was failing with their Caribbean food concept and I don't have much hope for this pitch because everyone was clueless and asking what Caribbean food is and someone said jambalaya, which is retarded and then another said jerk, which prompted another to wrinkle up her nose and make a disgusted face. And all I could think was why am I in a room with these people (I've had this thought countless times before)? There's no way that someone who had eaten Peppa's jerk chicken would be able to scowl like that.

Peppa's Jerk Chicken * 738 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn

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Jul 24

Slurpees Aren’t Even the Half of It

Since there aren’t many 7-Elevens around the city (no, I never got into that brief urban nostalgia craze when they started opening in Manhattan last year), I forget how crazy and full of amazing innovations they are. When I lived in Sunset Park for a few years, I had an On the Run, complete with a small parking lot (atypical for Brooklyn) on the next block. It met the minimal requirements for a convenience store, but they didn’t get too wild with the products (except for the Green Mountain blueberry and pumpkin flavored coffees advertised in the gas station).

I popped in the Bay Ridge 7-Eleven this weekend after a patience trying, but ultimately fruitful Century 21 visit (I’ve really been wanting these green sandals with a cork heel, (they're not jade like in the photo but true color crayon green) but $79 seemed completely overpriced. $59 at Century 21 was still more than I thought was fair, but then I remembered that I had a little birthday pocket cash and all was good). It was a bonanza of bizarre edible inventions. I wish I’d had my camera with me because, duh, a picture is worth a thousand words (and my words aren’t even that worthy). If berry and squash coffees were disturbing, 7-Eleven goes one further with a whole machine devoted to making key lime cappuccino. How did that flavor combo even cross someone’s mind?

Despite not even drinking soda, I was very impressed with their beverage station that was promoting a “flavor blast” concept. You could push a button and choose a squirt of additional flavor like cherry, vanilla or lemon to pep up your Coke, Sierra Mist, whatever. I think vanilla root beer would be nice. It reminded me of how at Farrell’s (I don’t think there are many left in the world) you used to be able to order vanilla, cherry or chocolate cokes that had syrup mixed in.

I did purchase a Cadbury Crème Egg ice cream, if you can imagine. The actual icy confection on a cone doesn’t really resemble the illustration on the wrapper, but my photo didn’t turn out (I’m lame and can’t figure out how to make the object in the foreground in focus rather than the other way around). The top portion is kind of small, smaller than a Drumstick. And there really is a yellow fondant fake yolk in the middle of the vanilla ice cream. It was kind of creepy and incredibly sugary and I loved it.

The P'EatZZa Sandwich is "a marriage made only in 7-Eleven heaven." Well, they said it. I’m more fascinated by the spelling and pronunciation (Puh-Eat-Zuh) of the damn thing than the actual item itself.

There’s nothing novel about selling two-packs of hard boiled eggs, but sometimes simplicity gets you too.

7-Eleven * 301 65th St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jul 19

Cube 63

It recently occurred to me that I never ever eat sushi for dinner. Yeah, I pick up deli (technically Sushi-Tei [they advertise this link, but this particular restaurant is nowhere to be seen on the website] which is no Café Zaiya or Yagura. I’m still mourning both after six months in my not-so-new-anymore job neighborhood) sushi a couple times a week for lunch, but that’s not like real. I know, purists get all grossed out by fast food sushi, but those midtown you pick, they toss, salads make me want to hurl. And fast food sushi is cheaper than a lot of midtown mediocrity.

I picked neighborhood Cube 63 for no reason in particular. I think Osaka is the local higher end fave and clearly Hana Sushi is just plain popular. While Cube 63 was nearly empty around 7:30 on a Saturday, Hana, one block over was stuffed to the gills. I would say that those diners must’ve known something we didn’t if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t trust the judgment of most people in Cobble Hill.

We were fairly restrained in ordering. I picked spicy tuna rolls, spider rolls and yellowtail sushi. James asked for scallop sashimi and the 63 roll (spicy tuna, avocado, lobster salad). Yeah, a bit tuna heavy. All in all it was an acceptable dinner, but there was something flat and perfunctory about the experience. Of course it was more enjoyable than deli sushi, which isn’t saying much.

Cube 63 * Court St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jul 18

Nana

There’s nothing worse than a tipsy, starving, angry meal. Thankfully, I don’t have these too often. The routine goes like this: I’m supposed to go out to dinner, usually on a Saturday night. My dining companion is anticipated to get home around 9pm, possibly earlier (it was their suggestion to go out for dinner since they’d be spending the day with their mother, which was an unexpected weekend imposition). Said companion doesn’t call and time starts ticking. I get bored and have a glass of wine, which turns into two and then I hem and haw over whether or not to just eat something because I’m getting cranky. By 11pm, the supposed dining companion shows up, I’m pissed (in both senses of the word) and my original restaurant choices are closed or closing. Brooklyn is lame that way. All the city does is sleep.

I’m not fond of Gravy, but it came to mind as being open later. If I was going that direction, newer Trout, right next door, would’ve made more sense, but it was too hot to sit outside and I didn’t want total junk food. Well, Gravy’s menu had been pared down since my last visit and was essentially serving burgers and boring sandwiches. I could’ve dealt if we weren’t left waiting for our order to be taken for a good 15 minutes despite a near empty restaurant (the outdoor tables were all occupied, but there are only like four of them). Normally, I’m overly polite about bad service or being ignored. But not when I’m starving, tipsy and angry. After asking for someone to take our order to no avail, we left. And by this point I was even more hungry and angry (though less tipsy).

We headed over to Park Slope since we were going to check out that new bar Union Hall (charming space, hideous crowd. I just don’t think I can go out anymore. Williamsburg is all annoyingly young and looks obsessed, but the rest of gentrified Brooklyn might be even worse. The crowds are also heavily under-30 but they’re all polo shirted and khakied and travel in packs. I mean, the guys. The girls are so nondescript I can’t even recreate their look in my mind). Nana had 20 minutes left before their midnight closing. I hate, hate, hate eating in restaurants that are about to shutter for the evening, but by this point I was desperate and there was still a party lingering in the back garden so I felt like the heat was off of me a bit.

Nana is Asian mish mash/sushi bar style, you know, like chopsticks for everything, a DJ booth and cocktails with lychee in them. Not my typical first choice, but hardly horrible either and the prices were fair. We went with the fusion and sampled roti canai (Malaysian), prik khing shrimp (Thai), and sweet and sour duck (Chinese-y). It’s doubtful that I’ll go back any time soon, but Nana served its purpose in trying to patch up a doomed dinner.

Nana * 115 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Posts from the ‘NYC’ Category

Honduras Maya

Mi Bolivia

Tierras Centro Americanas

Where Subways Fear to Tread

Nha Trang Palace

Cookshop

Peppa’s Jerk Chicken

Slurpees Aren’t Even the Half of It

Cube 63

Nana

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