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Posts from the ‘Shovel Time’ Category

Sagardi & Euskal Etxea

Barcelona isn't much of a tapas town. Basque pintxos are more the thing (though San Sebastian is where they really do pintxos up big—we didn’t encounter anything nearly as esoteric as the examples on Todopintxos). It's fairly easy to figure out if you're in for tapas or pintxos. One giveaway that you’re in for the latter is if the restaurant has a seemingly superfluous X in the name (funny, that I ended up in two regions—Wales and Catalan—rife with preserving ancient, hard to pronounce languages). Another tip off is a bar covered with plates of sliced french bread topped with toothpick-speared goodies.

Euskalinside If you’re unfamiliar with the routine (I’m obsessed with doing things the right way and not looking like a retard, which kind of makes me a retard),  the procedure is asking for a plate, then helping yourself to whatever catches your fancy. It’s not a simple as it sounds, though, because these bars are often four people deep. You might get a glimpse or two of something enticing but maneuvering to reach and pick up said snack is an art form I didn’t have time to cultivate. If you’re nimble enough to grab a few pintxos and lucky to be standing in the right spot when something fresh and tasty is brought from the kitchen, you’ll be set. Just don’t toss out your toothpicks after eating since that’s how they tally up your bill. I can’t help but imagine that diners try to beat this honor system at least occasionally, or maybe that’s just the New Yorker in me scheming.

I had my trusty list of restaurants to try and weirdly enough, a good majority of them happened to be in the vicinity of our hotel. I'm not used to such convenience. On most of my few other travels, getting to all the places I wanted to eat took more effort (with the exception of the The Scarlet being practically next door to the Maxwell Food Centre) and usually involved subways not strolls.

The only stumbling block was the August closures (I'm still fascinated how entire European countries can take an entire month off at the same time and the world doesn't explode). Oh, and the overwhelming crowds filling eateries during peak hours. Agoraphobic tapas lovers like me must overcome their fears. I suppose a few glasses of sidra helps the nerves.

Sagardi2 Sagardi wasn't on my list. I put a lot of faith in my list, which is essentially just cut and pasted blurbs from various websites and blogs, but it does the trick. Our strip, Carrer Argenteria, was tourist central, kind of more East Village in vibe with the dense foreigner concentration of Times Square, so I didn't suspect Sagardi to be much of a gem (though perennially packed Taller de Tapas, diagonally across the square was on my list, so maybe my tourist trap theory holds no water). Despite my love of chains, I wasn’t sure if my love extended to European ones.

No matter, we wanted a snack around 5 pm, well before proper Spanish dinner time and Sagardi had open outdoor tables, which are a premium on any night of the week. Of course, only tourists are eating tapas at this hour but I was a tourist so I didn’t care that I was being gauche. I needed a pintxos fix before my real 10 pm dinner.

Sagardi1 I was only going to pick out four items, but really if you’re splitting each morsel in two that’s not tons of food. I didn’t know what I was grabbing, but they turned out to include a cod-potato stuffed pequillo pepper that was breaded and fried, mozzarella, tomato, anchovy and oregano, another with sardines, red pepper and frizzled leeks (I think) and a fourth that I can’t even figure out from looking at the photo, but looks like it contained grated cheese and a paste of some sort gluing it down with something vaguely chartreuse and mauvey—a pickled pepper and squid? That makes no sense. I guess it wasn’t very memorable. Maybe they all had anchovies…I’m confused. James ended up going back for a second round and found ones topped with tomato paste, parsley leaf and anchovy, a simple jamon, sweet cream cheese with blueberry sauce, shredded mint and what I swear was a carrot cookie and one using salmon, dill diced onion.

Euskalout On our last evening I wanted a more authentic experience, so we tried to get to Euskal Etxea early, around 9 pm but the bar and smattering of seats were already taken and a strong crowd was taking hold. We still did OK, and I would’ve stayed longer and had a second drink if it hadn’t been so hot inside. I don’t fare well without air conditioning and this was one of the rare places I encountered during our brief Spain visit that was au natural. Is sweating while eating an authentic Basque experience? This bar is so hardcore that they don't even offer Spanish on their website, the two choices are Basque or Catalan. English? Don’t even ask.

Euskalfood Here, it was tough to survey the food scene fully. I ended up picking a few random treats like one with a cheese (possibly manchego) wedge, walnuts and caramel (I don’t think it was honey, despite that seeming more plausible), one with little poached eggs, cheese and anchovies, and another with sardines and red peppers. I also got a mini croissant with smoked salmon a little later. James got a few non-bread pintxos (they’re not all bread based) like a gazpacho shot and little glass dish containing mushrooms and shrimp in a wine based sauce. We also sampled a fresh from the fryer, cheese croquette, or I guess croqueta. You have to get a jump on the hot stuff.

Sidra, hard cider, is a respectable drink with pintxos. Txakoli, a lightly fizzy, Basque white wine is also an option, but I never had a single glass in Barcelona. I did drink a lot of cava, but not with my pintxos. I had wanted to try El Xampanyet, (X pronounced CH so the word sounds vaguely like champagne when said aloud and makes sense since it’s a cava bar) right across the street from Euska Etxea (yes, it was on my list) but unfortunately, they were victims of the shuttered-up August syndrome.

I was surprised when our toothpicks were added up and we’d only spent €17 euros. I’m pretty sure we spent closer to €30 at Sagardi earlier in the week. I recall their pintxos being pricier, €1.92 each to be exact. Euskal Etxea’s were probably more in the €1.25-1.50 range, which seems more typical.

Pintxos, tapas, whatever you want to call them, make me happy. I used to have fantasies of eating hors d'oeuvres and appetizers for every meal. But it’s a lot of effort and you need a lot of ingredients. It’s not terribly feasible for one person. I guess that’s what the whole small plates hoo ha is about. I just can’t help but feel that that’s a thinly veiled move to get people to spend more and get less. I don’t go for it. Can’t a girl love tiny food and still be thrifty?

Sagardi * Carrer Argenteria 62, Barcelona, Spain
Euskal Etxea * Placeta Montcada 1-3, Barcelona, Spain

La Vinya del Senyor

I'd read in The New Spanish Table and in a Food & Wine round-up (by the same author, so it was sort of like only one very enthusiastic recommendation) about a coca (Catalan pizza, as opposed to Italian pizza, which we ended up eating this same night) with candied red peppers and I loved the idea of it. I wouldn't have necessarily sought it out but the wine bar happened to be just down the street from our hotel.

Vinya_del_senyor_bacalao Totally discombobulated, we stopped by on our first evening in Barcelona. I couldn't figure out the seating etiquette (I'm spastic about following the rules and doing things the right way to the point of annoyance). All of the prime tables out front were taken, as were the stools at the bar. No one was standing like in some tapas places so I couldn't decide how to position ourselves as to not be in the way, but still have a place to put food and drink if we ordered.

Eventually, I mellowed out and ordered two glasses of cava and the coca, which they were out of. Somehow I wasn't surprised, not to be a naysayer, but this typically happens when I have a strict idea in my head about what I want. Vinya_del_senyor_sardinesInstead, we tried bacalao, which came cubed, splashed with olive oil and topped with crunchy sea salt and thin tomato shreds (this was the only actual tomato we ate in Spain. Barcelona is all about the pa amb tomaquet–I love Flickr pools obsessively devoted to single food items–tomato rubbed on bread. I couldn't figure out why the essence seemed more coveted than the flesh) and what I swear was called an anchovy empanada, but turned out to be breaded filets. (I just discovered this afternoon while looking at a Salvadoran menu from Queens that empanizado means breaded, so the words are related). I was just happy to be eating some fish and fresh vegetables after my brief meat and boiled carrots and cabbage stint in the U.K.

On our last night in Barcelona, a mere four days later, we thought we'd do a quick try for the coca again. It was that weird time of night where it's too early to eat dinner in Spain but well past lunch. A lot of restaurants hadn't opened yet, but La Vinya del Senyor seemed to be doing business so we popped in, got a couple cavas and asked for the coca…and were thwarted again. They don't start serving food until 8pm, only cured meats or a cheese plate were available. No wonder everyone had the cheese plate. We got it too. Cheese is great, but I started feeling like god didn't want me having that sugary red pepper coca.

La Vinya del Senyor * Plaça Santa Maria 5, Barcelona, Spain

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.

Cookshop_bread
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.

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

Cookshop_salad
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.

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

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

Cookshop_rabbit
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.

Cookshop_donuts
Warm donuts, buttermilk ice cream and blueberry compote.

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

Cookshop * 156 Tenth Ave., New York, NY

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).

Peppas_jerk 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

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.

Cube_63_sushi 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

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

Little Saigon

I was kind of surprised to see that there must be a substantial Vietnamese community in Atlantic City. While trying to find the White House Sub Shop we passed a pho joint and a bodega with a permanent sign advertising Spanish groceries and a hand written one proclaiming Vietnamese foodstuffs too. We ended up parking in front of place that looked more like a house than a restaurant with a window proclaiming Vietnamese hoagies.

So after getting our fill of American food during our first day and a half in town, I was thankful to have another country's cuisine to turn to (well, there was also El Coqui Café, which amused me–there's not escaping that Puerto Rican frog). We passed a corner place called Little Saigon and decided to stop in.

Little_saigon_spring_rolls I gathered that this restaurant is a local favorite based upon the numerous awards and write ups posted on the wall. It seemed like someplace that takes pride in its food. The clientele was predominantly Caucasian, which didn't turn me off as that is the general make up of the city. The presentations and garnishes had more flourish than your typical pho shop, and forks were given as a default, but I wouldn't say that the welcoming staff was pandering and it certainly wasn't haute or fusion food.

Originally, I wanted a simple bowl of beef noodle soup, but got swayed by the $7.95 lunch special which included spring rolls, grilled meat atop rice vermicelli and a choice of ice tea or homemade lemonade. I was so hungry that I forgot to take a photo of my pork noodles. My only complaint would be that the edges of the meat had been charred slightly too much. The burnt tips gave a bitter taste to the one-bowl meal, but by no means ruined it. The spring rolls were as crisp and tasty as I'd hoped for–I swear, Vietnamese are masters of the spring roll. And the crazy sweet lemonade quelled my desire for an icy, neon hued, gelatinous dessert.

Little Saigon * 2801 Artic Ave., Atlantic City, NJ

White House Sub Shop

White_house_facade There's a similar food feel-Italian heritage with lots of pizza and sub shops–throughout southern New Jersey and the Philadelphia area. I would suspect this vibe might also extend into Delaware, though I've never experienced that state first hand. White House Sub Shop wouldn't look out of place in South Philly. It's firmly in the no frills, brusque service, big portions, celebrity photos (the best one at this place was The Soup Nazi/Al Yegenah who had scribbled, "no subs for you.")  long lines style of Geno's, Pat's or Tony Luke's.

It took an eternity to plow through NYC to Atlantic City on the Sunday before 4th of July. Traffic inched for hours on end. We avoided the sticky, family filled Roy Rogers, Burger Kings and Cinnabons dotting the Garden State Parkway so by the time we rolled into town a little after 6m, we were famished. Our first order of business wasn't checking into the hotel, but getting a sandwich asap.

White_house_booths We just walked in and snagged an open booth, which was amazing luck. The long line inside was for take out orders. Evidently, this was a fluke because by the end of our not terribly long meal, a crowd for tables had formed, and the three or four times we passed by the storefront during our 48-hours in Atlantic City there was a line out the door.

I suspected the sandwiches were massive by the pricing structure. Halves were in the $6 range and wholes about double that. Outside of NYC, $12 for a sandwich is pretty outrageous. And it's not like the White House uses pricy luxury ingredients (not to say the fillings and bread aren't high quality) so the price would have to reflect quantity. We each ordered a whole anyway because that's the kind of gluttons we are. James went for the cheesesteak, I opted for the White House special because it seemed to have a lot of everything.

White_house_sub Well, it seems that a whole sub makes use of a whole loaf of Italian bread. Two of the four segments have one pointy end. A half, duh, is half a loaf. At first I thought they had brought us two White House Specials rather than one of each that we'd requested. Then I was like, "oh hell, that's one sandwich." We weren't daunted, it was just more for later. I swear my combo of provolone and capicola (a.k.a. gabagool) ham and salami contained at least a solid inch of cold cuts. It was like biting into a springy, cured, lightly spiced meat cake. They do that carving out of bread guts trick so more fatty goodness can be crammed in between the baked goods.

That's kind of ironic because what sets these hefty torpedoes apart from the fray is the bread. It tastes fresh like it hasn't been out of the oven for long, yeasty and chewy. Not a flimsy afterthought. The sturdy wedges hold the stuffing without getting soggy or falling apart (gross as it is, we kept our other halves un-refrigerated for over 24-hours before tearing into them and the bread was still in pretty good shape. The lettuce was wilty, but I just chucked it out).

White_house_cheesesteak The cheesesteaks aren't Philly style. I suspected they'd use provolone instead of the standard Cheez Whiz (you're not asked about cheese choice) and they did. They also added lettuce and tomato (which you are asked about-James said yes, which I didn't fully agree with).

If you happen to live in a part of the world where Subways and Quiznos are the rule, White House Sub Shop will be more than an eye opener (and waistline expander). We're a little spoiled for choice around here. I live walking distance to Defonte's, Caputo's and Brooklyn Bread Bakery, and don't really frequent any of these establishments (the first I've just never gotten around to, the second I like, but it closes before I get home from work, the latter I've been to a number of times and  have been put off by the distracted guido teens who work the counter). This is like road food to me, not weeknight dinner fare.

White_house_counter As you might expect, the servers aren't the cheeriest bunch of people and it would be wrong if they were. They're efficient and that's all that matters. The cooks are as pleasant as they could be having an endless stream of hungry and antsy customers impatiently staring at them over the grill (maybe I was projecting, but it unnerved me how everyone in line was leaning over the counter facing the cooks). If you're sick of the swath of humanity that fills glossy mag and the airwaves (analog and digital), the hodgepodge crowd crammed into this narrow lunch counter will give you a dose of reality, welcome or not. Sometimes you just want to be around regular people and regular food. And despite all the seedy glitz, Atlantic City is a pretty regular kind of place.

White House Sub Shop * 2301 Artic Ave., Atlantic City, NJ

Perro Caliente

Don't be scared of the South American hot dog. My overstuffed wiener and bun induced stomach trauma from a few weeks ago is now far enough in the past that I can share some photos from my culinary experimenting. The actual article will likely appear in the New York Post in a Wednesday or two so I won't get wordy here. Ok, they ended up using my "Dog Days" piece in a larger summer food round-up.

Update 5/07: It looks like Mazorca has shuttered. I never go down Northern Blvd. so it's also news to me that Xtasis, across the street, has expanded into a pink neon palace.


Perro Mixto: ham, bacon, mayo, tomatoes, avocado, crushed potato chips


Hawaiiana: mayo, avocado, pineapple, potato chips, ham

Mazorca * 83-17 Northern Blvd. Jackson Heights, NY


Iraqui: mayo, hard boiled eggs, pineapple sauce, cheese


Mexicana: avocado, cheese, chiles, mayo

La Perrada de Chalo * 83-12 Northern Blvd., Jackson Heights, NY


El Completo: avocado, mayo, tomatoes, sauerkraut

JC & Family * 68-14 Roosevelt Ave. Woodside, NY


I forgot to take photos of the completo at my favorite place, San Antonio Bakery, but I did capture the beef empanada and dulce de leche layer cake.

San Antonio #2 * 36-20 Astoria Blvd. Astoria, NY

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Xunta

1/2 For some unfounded reason, I thought this tapas place was some sort of frat haven. That didn't appear to be the case on my visit, which was reassuring. What was less than soothing were the seating arrangements. I have my own personal issues with stools. I think I must just be graceless because I find it unreasonably awkward to climb up and perch properly without feeling off kilter and exposed. Lord help me on my Barcelona trip in August. Maybe I should practice my mount and dismount in the next month.

These weren't normal stools at the bar (that set up did exist), but rather stools positioned around a too low, too small wooden barrel. More than two plates and glasses caused a problem and bending towards the food felt unnatural. And the food itself was a touch unnatural, or at least unorthodox.

Instead of the usual aioli topped patatas bravas, these potatoes were simply drizzed in Tabasco sauce. And I swear the cheese plate contained slices of mozzarella. I wasn't aware of any similar fresh Spanish cheeses. The simple long thin spicy chorizo was satisfying, as was the square, pan-baked bacalao empanada. The menu is fairly large, so it's fair to guess that there are lots of hits and misses.

Xunta struck me as half-decent, half-weird. It's definitely not a first choice tapas bar, but it would suffice if you were in the neighborhood and felt too lazy to venture beyond the East Village.

Xunta * 174 First Ave., New York, NY