Posts from the ‘Shovel Time’ Category

Jun 18

Wonder Seafood

? Since Edison has become my go-to suburban enclave, I've been looking for dining options beyond Quiznos and Cheesecake Factory (lovely as they are). After a little research, Wonder Seafood emerged as a dim sum contender. But it was only recently that I was able to cross it off my to-try list.

The interesting thing about non-NYC dim sum is that while there are still crowds and a wait, the chaos level is lower, more English is spoken and forks are given (and used by many Asian-American youngsters).

Most of the classics were available, nothing struck me as out of the ordinary or terribly creative. It was a cart parade of greatest hits.

Wu gok. One of my favorites, maybe because I love the lavender shade of mashed taro. You have to be careful because these will you up. Perhaps I shouldn't have started with them.

Spare ribs

Shrimp dumplings

Salt and pepper shrimp. I ate a few heads, eyes and all, which might've been a mistake (as you'll soon see).

I didn't know what these were. I thought they would be sweet and hollow, but they have a glutinous mochi-like exterior with a rich chopped shrimp and pork filling.

Pork buns

I grabbed these after we were done eating. I thought it was thick pieces of white bread, like a twist on '60s style fried shrimp toast. But it turned out to be bean curd (which James won't eat). We got them wrapped up to go and then I forgot them in the car overnight.

Ok, I really don't want to blame the dim sum, but I can't give an assessment of this meal without an unappetizing epilogue. About seven hours after dining at Wonder Seafood I became violently ill, the sickest I think I've ever been recent history. It is baffling because James and I ate the same items and I hadn't eaten anything else all day except for this meal. He was fine. I did eat a couple of prawn heads. I've always been a shell-eater despite the disgust it gives others. Could the crispy exoskeletons be the culprit? Who knows, but I'll probably steer clear of dim sum for a while.

Wonder Seafood * 1984 Route 22, Edison, NJ

Jun 17

Ruby Tuesday

In my most uncharacteristic move ever, I only ate a total of four bites of food during this mishap of a meal. No fault of Ruby Tuesday's, it was just bad timing. I was originally excited to get to try a new-to-me chain restaurant (I mean, I had seen ads but had never paid a visit) but I suspect I was rapidly becoming the victim of food poisoning from earlier dim sum. Having no appetite is a very rare occurrence in my world so I knew something sinister was up.

My head was pounding as we went ahead and ordered chips with spinach cheese dip to share, a sliders with both fries and onion rings for myself. Neither item was enjoyed much, as I had to run to the bathroom twice to stave off false upchuck alarms. Our teenage waitress was kind of enough to give me ibuprofen out of her purse. There's something very suburban about that-I wouldn't dare ask staff for aspirin in NYC.

But it was too late for over the counter painkillers. We had to wrap up our food (of course–sick as a dog or not, I'm not wasting edibles) and hightail it out of there before there was an embarrassing accident. Said accident did eventually occur repeatedly into a DSW bag while stuck in a Staten Island traffic jam.

While I believe Chinese snacks were the likely culprit, I'm going to have a hard time setting foot inside a Ruby Tuesday for some time.

Ruby Tuesday * 675 US Highway 1 S., Iselin, NJ

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Jun 10

Little Bistro

*LB has been replaced by a not-so-promising looking place called Vivir. (1/06)

Famous last words, "it had better not be one of those barbecue sauce restaurants." Oh, but it was. It's starting to get strange, the Bococa (oh yes, I did) affinity for barbecue sauce. (Or possibly more accurately, James's penchant for ordering items drenched in it.)Realistically, the incidents over the past few years have been few and far between, all things considered, but they tend to stand out because they occurred when we first moved into the neighborhood and were figuring out the dining scene. We had bbq sauce trauma at Pier 116 and Village 247, both addresses-in-the-names joints have since faded away. Perhaps rampant bbq saucing is the mark of a restaurant in demise.

I wish I could remember the exact name and description of our appetizer. It was something along the lines of barbecued shrimp summer rolls. I'll admit, barbecue is right in there, but we assumed by context this meant grilled. Wouldn't that make more sense? But no, the Vietnamese style rolls came with a little patch of mache, a pool of creamed corn…and drizzles of barbecue sauce. Good lord. After that, there would be no way to convince James to ever give another Cobble Hill restaurant a chance.

That rough patch was only exacerbated by the excruciating amount of time it took to present our entrees. I'm not one to fuss, but it probably would've irritated an average diner. And it wasn't matter of things being backed up, they clearly messed up our order. We were nearly neck and neck with the table next to us and they received, ate and finished their main dishes before we even saw ours. I suspect there was a problem with the veal special. We're opposite, James often goes for the special and I avoid them.

I was mildly amused that when the panko crusted veal finally arrived it was served with "Japanese Worcestershire sauce," which is like one step away from sweet barbecue sauce. one might imagine would be sweet. It wasn't James's night.

To be fair, I quite liked my entrée, which was a plate of sliced duck, massaman curry sauce, two moo shu duck style pancakes, and two sweet potato fritters. A small pile of baby vegetables in the middle consisted of carrots, pattypan squash and green and wax beans.

It's easy to asses the neighborhood's vibe and restaurant's clientele, from the caveats the waiter gave with practically all orders. "The duck is cooked medium, so it's a little pink in the middle. Is that ok?" Yes, that's fine. The shrimp rolls, "That comes with coleslaw, is that alright?" Ok, not a problem. Both female components of the couples who sat on my right (yes, two seatings occurred during our unintended lengthy meal) ordered the salmon with "Japanese spiced cream sauce," and both asked, "Is it spicy?" The waiter robotically replied, "We can put the sauce on the side." South Brooklyn is infested with fussiness.

Little Bistro * 158 Court St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jun 4

Pop Diner

I can't even recall what used to be in this spot, but when the new made to look old Googie-style diner showed up on that stretch of Queens Blvd. near Target, a few years back, it threw me off. So shiny, so colorful, and the Pop in the name made me think Pop on 4th Ave. and Pop Burger, but it couldn't possibly be affiliated. Elmhurst doesn't draw the same clientele as the East Village and Chelsea.

I finally decided to pay a visit and appease James who often expresses a desire to eat there when we drive by. I usually veto in favor of Sripraphai, but I'm learning to make concessions. I was under the impression that Pop might be tweaking diner classics with newfangled touches, but it's relatively traditional fare with a few Latin American and Asian leanings.

I didn’t go for the pernil or plantains, though. We shared an ok quesadilla. I love reubens and usually only have the opportunity to order them in diners. This was an unorthodox specimen, as it came open faced. That’s an important detail to omit from the menu description. It also was lacking Russian dressing. It tasted fine enough, but it wasn’t all that a reuben could be. Something about sandwiches splayed open across the plate just feels geriatric to me. I’m not ready for the old folks home yet.

Pop does excel with little touches. The coleslaw was actually good, I usually take a bite just to see and ended up eating most of my little paper cup full. And the fries were crisp rather than fat and soggy like diner fries can be. The desserts, a small selection including chocolate cake, cheesecake and lemon meringue pie, were very enticing in the rotating case near the door. Who knows if their flavor matched their looks, but I'd like to believe it did.

Pop Diner * 80-26 Queens Blvd., Elmhurst, NY

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Jun 3

Cabana

How do you end up eating chain Cuban at the South Street Seaport when you intended on hole in the wall Cuban in Chelsea? Well, thanks to the MTA's inability to deal with rain water, I was only able to access the 6 train Friday after work. Anything diverging too far from that line was out of the question during the downpour (though the Seaport isn’t that close to the Fulton St. station).

I’ve never been to the Seaport in my eight years of NYC life. It’s not like I’ve ever had any reason to. Strangely, it’s quite the tourist attraction. Strangely, because essentially it’s a mall with chain stores you could find anywhere in the U.S. that happens to be on the East River. Maybe because of the oddball location, Cabana wasn’t crazy busy, which is always my fear on Friday nights. The vibe was very much girls night out with a few couple scattered around too.

What I hate about “fancy” Latin American food is the preponderance of boneless chicken breasts and absence of pork dishes. I eat boneless, skinless chicken breasts at home all the time, but that's weeknight health-ish cooking, courtesy of a Costco bag of Tyson’s poultry. I don't actually want to pay good money for that dry nonsense on the weekend when a supposed professional is cooking.

I settled on one of the few porky entrees, chuletas, which came with yellow rice and black beans by default. Two pork chops strikes me as little excessive, though eating half of my food allowed for two genuine meals to be made of it. A mid-week leftover pork chop isn’t the worst thing. We tried tostones stuffed with ropa vieja and shrimp (you can choose from four fillings) as a starter, and they were better than I'd expected. The orange, garlicky dipping oil a nice unhealthy touch. A pitcher of sangria rounded out the meal.

Honestly, I would’ve been happier with a cubano or cheap rice, beans and meat combo. I don’t need all the fanfare (or bathroom attendant) that comes with the more upscale versions of Cuban cuisine, though the food was a perfectly acceptable rendition.

Cabana * 89 South St. Seaport Pier 17, New York, NY

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May 19

Room 4 Dessert

Friday night at 6:30 might seem a bit early for dessert, but that's just the way it worked out. I had suggested trying Room 4 Dessert to a friend as a birthday present (I gave her Dirty Found too). It wasn't my fault that a month and a half passed between her date of birth and our sweet excursion.

Apparently, the menu has recently changed, so many of the items I'd read about, Voyage to India in particular, were no longer being served. There were four choices of foursomes, and unfortunately, I didn't take a menu home so the finer details of each are hazy. Chocolate seemed too obvious, so I went with the PACK acronym, which showcased pistachio, apricot, cherries and kirsch. Despite the scary sounding name (and ingredients), I ordered a Mr. Clean cocktail anyway. You probably could clean tile with the pine liqueur, lemon, amaretto and whisky formula. It was bracing and medicinal (and almost reminded me of a thick white prescription liquid I had to drink for an ear infection I had when I was in preschool). But I was glad for the daring mixology.

Pistachio was my favorite PACK component, but I'm just partial to anything green that's not a vegetable. I wish I had paid closer attention to the preparations because now I fear making everything sound lackluster and simple. The cherries were in a liquid in a thick cylindrical pill bottle, the kirsch was blended into whipped cream with apricots underneath, and if I'm correct apricot was also the foundation of the sorbet which covered little crunchy bits.

The belated birthday girl tried the red quartet, which contained hibiscus jello with ice lettuce, beet sorbet (or was it ice cream?), raspberry "bread" and a little white cake with cooked down red speck.

Ok, the two drinks at a bar around the corner, beforehand, and glass of cava mid-dessert aren't conducive to flavor recall. I'll definitely return with a clearer mind and palate. I can see this being an endearing late night stop.

Room 4 Dessert * 17 Cleveland Pl., New York,NY

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Apr 27

Las Ramblas

Tapas are tricky. I love the little morsels, but I'm averse to the little rooms that usually go along with the package. It's not like I'm accustomed to large open spaces in NYC, but tapas in particular seem synonymous with long waits and being squished. Um, and I have my own issues with bar stools: one, my balance is horrendous, I feel like I'm going to topple over, and two, I have a fat ass, at least fat enough to mush over the sides of many stools' tiny circular tops.

I shied away from Tia Pol for ages because I thought it would be a nightmare, and it wasn't at all. Las Ramblas is more how I envisioned Tia Pol to be, if that makes any sense. Not a nightmare by any means, but bedroom-sized with a handful of nearly touching tables. When I arrived there were actually two spots open, but they wouldn't seat me without my dining companion so I waited the four-stooled bar. Of course, the place filled up in mere minutes and when James showed up we just ate at the bar because there was no telling if anyone was ever going to leave (we were asked if we wanted an open table about half way through, but we were already established where we were).

We didn't go wild with ordering, just four items, and pretty basic ones at that. Everything was likeable, but perhaps a notch below the dishes we had at Tia Pol (I'm only using them for comparison because it's the most recent tapas experience I've had, though it wasn't all that recent).

Simple gambas. There was something almost Caribbean about the preparation. Instead of simply sliced garlic, it was like they'd used a sofrito.

I'm scared of mayonnaise but love patatas bravas. And I never thought I'd say this, but these potatoes could've actually used a touch more aioli.

Albondigas, plain and simple.

Serrano and idiazabal. I could eat this ham and cheese all day.

Las Ramblas * 170 W. 4th St., New York, NY

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Apr 20

The Good Fork

I didn't go in expecting my socks to get knocked off–I just wanted to try a new nearby restaurant, hype, be damned–and well, my socks are still on. Not to say there was anything amiss with my food. I wanted it to be more distinctive. I think a lot of the appeal of places like The Good Fork stems from the quirk and trek factor. The same attention probably wouldn't be paid to a similar eatery in say, the West Village.

I started with a glass of Malbec and a salad of bitter greens, cubed beets and an apple-potato latke type wedge, topped with goat cheese. These are the types of salads I enjoy, yet never make at home because there are too many components for my weeknight patience. Then I moved on to the roast chicken, which I know is usually the most boring thing on the menu, but I'd been eating pork all week thanks to Easter leftovers, and it was so hot out I didn't feel I should eat go too meaty.

The mashed potatoes seemed awfully sweet, and now I realize they were pureed with parsnips. Very nice with the carmelized, braised leeks. The black bean sauce was a touch salty, but it did punch up a potentially bland dish. The chicken was chicken, despite being from Cloonshee Farms. I'm sure if you put a plainly prepared Tyson drumstick and a free range hormone-less leg in front of me, I'd be able to detect a difference in flavor, but frequently fresh, organic meat is lost on me.

Surprisingly, we were seated promptly at 8pm. I got a little nervous when asked if we had reservations. The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn't call ahead out of principle–um, which principle, I'm not sure. Maybe the neighborhood joint principle. The staff seemed a little frenzied, though everyone was pleasant and accommodating. There was a slight insidery vibe, which is only to say that the host (owner?) seemed to know everyone. Maybe I'm just jealous because I'm not a regular even at places I go regularly.

$74 was a touch more than I'd typically spend on a Thursday night dinner for two, and I don't mean that in a Brooklyn should be cheaper than Manhattan way. People get up in arms if you complain about prices in the outer boroughs. I'm just thrifty. I wouldn't say The Good Fork is a prime destination spot (at least not yet–hasn't Red Hook been on the verge for the last decade? Who knows Fairway and Ikea will bring to the mix) but it is a nice option if you live in the general environs and are sick of the Smith St. offerings.

The Good Fork 391 Van Brunt St., Brooklyn, NY

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Apr 14

davidburke & donatella

I'm more of a fast food salad luncher, but in a perfect world I could do a two-hour fine dining meal on a daily basis. The $24 d&d price fixe is a pretty amazing value. Unfortunately, the circumstances completely distracted from any joy I might've derived from an otherwise swank meal. As they say, there's no such thing as a free lunch. I knew that when my department's director asked my supervisor and me to lunch that it wasn't for leisure's sake. Let's just say that this is the most disgruntling office I've ever worked in, and leave it at that.

I certainly didn't take any food photos during this business-esque meeting, though the presentation would've warranted it. Initially, you're presented with popovers in adorable individual copper pans. I chose the lobster bisque with green apple essence ($15 alone at dinner) as my first course, which comes in a deep bowl with a long cylindrical lobster-filled egg roll laid across the top. The crisp skinny tube is designed to look like a firecracker with a little fuse sticking out one end that would be a mistake to eat.

Their market salad was speckled with shrimp, chicken, goat cheese, Asian pear, walnuts and bacon. I lost interest about 3/4 of the way through, the precise moment when the serious talking began. I didn't even finish the damn thing, which isn't like me at all. I was able to eat most of my generously portioned caramelized apple tart. One glass of Riesling was hardly enough to get me through this afternoon annoyance.

davidburke & donatella * E. 61st St., New York, NY

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Apr 10

East Ocean

1/2 Despite working in the E. 50s for over three months now, I still haven't settled into a smooth lunch routine. And I'm still a bit disgruntled at the area's offerings.

While hardly amazing, I will make the half-block journey to East Ocean maybe once a week. They have one of those point and pick deals where you get rice plus two choices and a soda for $5.95. You don't have to get fried rice and fatty battered meat (though you certainly could–I'm just trying to say that cheap steam table Chinese isn't all unhealthy) They have things like simple greens in oyster sauce or lotus root stir fry, and most importantly, they have cans of seltzer. I have fits when you get a free drink, but it has to be a can, therefore a soda. I just want water (not out of health–I just don't like soda) and it seems cruel that water costs more than carbonated corn syrup. Silly as it is, including seltzer as a free drink option, boosts my opinion of East Ocean up a notch or two.

Here's an all-brown meal I got the other day. One entre is pork belly, the other is a bizarre combination of taro cubes and short ribs. I try to eat light lunches (primarily to justify eating hearty dinners) but some days you're just starving and need a meaty/starchy boost. East Ocean * 159 E. 55th St., New York, NY

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Posts from the ‘Shovel Time’ Category

Wonder Seafood

Ruby Tuesday

Little Bistro

Pop Diner

Cabana

Room 4 Dessert

Las Ramblas

The Good Fork

davidburke & donatella

East Ocean

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