Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Nov 19

Great New York Noodletown

twoshovel New York Noodletown, or Great New York Noodletown as they’ve been calling themselves for some time, has always been a Chinatown standby and not just for late night. I haven’t been drunk in the vicinity of lower Manhattan in years. Murmurs of its decline have come and gone for ages.

Me, I’ve never had a problem with the food, though I never stray far from roast pork wonton soup, roasted meats with rice or salt and pepper soft shell crabs (though in a recent Travel & Leisure article that gathers a bunch of chefs to eat at Noodletown and discuss late night eats, David Chang declares the ginger scallion noodles his favorite—maybe I should branch out?) That’s it. And brusqueness in this genre of eatery doesn’t bother me.

I recently went straight after work before seeing The Box on opening night for reasons I can’t yet determine, not so much that the movie was weird/slow/unsatisfying but because I rarely even see movies, let alone on opening nights. Like I said, I wouldn’t call efficiency and lack of smiling brusqueness, and the burgundy-vested waiters hear everything. They’re on it. We were speculating to ourselves not loudly whether we should order the soft shell crab and were cut off by a waiter walking by, “No soft shell crab!” Ok, roast duck it was.

I forgot to take a photo of the duck, which proves how tastiness of the meat and crispiness of the skin. Or maybe I was just starving. I have to admit, though, that my soup was a little troubled. The broth was hot, maybe a little less complex and rich as ones I’ve had there before, but clearly the noodles and pork had just been sitting out as they were coldish, not even quite room temperature. The noodles were still springy and the pork had a nice charred flavor but warm would be better.

The wontons? Maybe I’ve said this before and I still can’t determine where the flavor is coming from since they look simply like shrimp encased in dough, no herbs, but they taste like marijuana. Just subtly and I’m no stoner but I swear they are like pot dumplings, if such a think existed. I’ve never heard anyone else ever say that so maybe it’s how my tongue processes a certain taste, in a soapy cilantro manner.

Previously on New York Noodletown

Great New York Noodletown * 28 Bowery St., New York, NY

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Nov 15

OBAO Preview

In 2006 I worked a block from where OBAO, Michael Huynh’s latest venture, is scheduled to open on Monday. The immediate area has shaped into a multi-culti lunching paradise (Güllüoglu, Barros Luco, Mantao Chinese Sandwiches) or maybe it just seems better in comparison to the Financial District blandness I’ve grown accustomed to. And I shouldn't complain so hard, we're getting a Baoguette down here.

Based on the sampling at OBAO’s preview party, there is high promise. The grilled cubes of pork belly were a little sweet with nice char and good balance between the meaty and fatty bits. Lamb chops were coated in chopped lemongrass and tasted like they’d been marinated in coconut milk. Instead of shrimp paste, thin slices of beef were wrapped around sugarcane. Bacon too. Why had I never thought of that?

Shrimp rolls and chicken satay were perfectly fine renditions, but couldn’t compete with the oomph of the pork, lamb and beef. Or maybe I just have a preference for the fatty.

I think this was a pho. It definitely was pho-like, but the poached egg threw me off.

The unknown element will be the noodles, which weren’t showcased at this event. I’m crazy for laksa and can’t decide if the non-traditional green tea soba noodles as they are touting will be a welcome tweak or just weird. Will the char kway teow also be an Asian hybrid? I’m sure I’ll get the answers soon enough.

I imagine the signage will be complete and the garbage bin removed by opening day.

OBAO * 222 E. 53 St., New York NY

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Oct 30

Tipsy Parson

1/2 I’ve been indecisive and forgetful lately, which isn’t the optimal state of mind for choosing and assessing restaurants. I couldn’t come to a conclusion while mulling over which new spot to try mid-week so I had to stoop to superficial criteria. One of the Tipsy Parson’s owners happens to share my last name and in a recent photo appeared to be transitioning from brunette to gray. It’s absolutely impossible to find an attractive (or homely—I’ll take what I can get) New York woman in her 30s who doesn’t dye silver strands or entire locks into submission. That settled it. I was going to Tipsy Parson.

Also superficially, I loved the trompe l’oeil bookshelf wallpaper. I had my eye on a similar motif a few years ago but I’m not sure how to handle wallpaper in a rental.

And to the forgetful: I lugged my damn SLR around all day in anticipation of going out after work only to realize after sitting down (I made 8pm reservations and we were seated fairly promptly in the tightly packed bar area, not a problem, as the back dining room where we had a choice of waiting for wasn’t particularly more luxurious in terms of space) that I’d left the memory card in my laptop at home. Urgh, an obnoxious food blogger’s worst nightmare.

It did allow a showdown between the photographic capabilities of the iPhone vs. the MyTouch. While a million miles from food porn-creating, the iPhone crushed my android powered device. Do keep in mind that these are sad little camera phone photos presented here.

Fried cheese curds beat mozzarella sticks any day. This little $5 pile was served with a chimichurri sauce. A spicy or creamy sauce would come to my mind first, but parsley and olive oil worked too. The thing is, I can barely remember the cheese. Char No. 4s version has more presence.

At the last minute we switched our minds from lamb ribs to chicken livers (I would’ve ordered both but as you’ll see below, I knew I was already in for a meat overload with the pork shank). The opposite of neutral cheese curds, these breaded organs stood out: creamy, a little funky, not for everyone. The tart green tomato marmalade cut through the richness and made a perfect grilled toast topping.

MyTouch

iPhone

I will always order the pork shank when offered, no question, which isn’t that often outside of German restaurants. And how often does one eat at German restaurants? Ok, maybe I do more than the average New Yorker considering that even when on vacation in Hong Kong last November I tried an eatery called King Ludwig Beerhall where I ordered a pork shank that could’ve fed an entire family of four.

Where many of the dishes lean towards snacky and sharable at Tipsy Parson, the hunk of pork that our server quoted it as being around a pound and half—do keep the bone heft in mind—is certainly an attention-grabber. There was plenty of tender dark meat and a few welcome gelatinous bits coating the ends of the bone. I almost forgot about the apple puree beneath the club-sized but of meat that I think was spiked with bourbon. The only thing that would’ve made this better would be the inclusion of crackly skin. Shank is as much about the skin as the flesh.

A grilled trout stuffed with thyme was also eaten. Though not by me.

Tipsy Parson is a cute restaurant that I can’t compare to Little Giant because I’ve never eaten there. It does feel a little Brooklyn, or maybe it’s that the casual, seasonal style just isn’t typically Chelsea.

Tipsy Parson * 156 Ninth Ave., New York, NY

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Oct 11

Woorijip

I was going to say that Woorijip is the Yip’s of Koreatown (yet actually good) but really Woorijip is more like the Café Zaiya of Koreatown. Only Yip’s can be Yip’s.

Woorijip is geared towards Koreans and neighborhood office workers just happen to enjoy their grab and go lunch options where I’ve never seen a Chinese person ever perusing the steam table at Yip’s. Being my first visit, I was a little overwhelmed with choices and didn’t fully absorb all that was to be had. With refrigerated cases, warm cases, the self-serve buffet, dessert racks and supposedly an occasional noodle bar, this is the type of eatery that requires strategizing and more than one visit to develop a sense of what’s worth your time.

At the late-ish side of lunch, close to 2pm, the scene was less chaotic than anticipated. I got behind what appeared to be the Latino kitchen crew in line at the buffet. They were seriously loading up, mostly on meaty things and rice. Many of the trays were approaching empty, but I was at least able to survey based on signage what may be available on a typical day (not that it matters on a practical level since I’m in the vicinity during lunchtime like never).

Partially out of thriftiness and mostly out of caloric caution, I hit these buffets with the notion of supplementing granola bars, yogurt, fruit, nuts, soup, whatever I’ve brought from home to work. If all I ate were the above, I would be depressed and starving. Small, inexpensive quantities of random Asian food cheers me up.

I rarely go over $3.50 at Yip’s but they’re only $3.49 per pound after 1:45pm. Woorijip is somewhere around $6.50 per pound so I kept that in mind. I still managed to only spend $4.09 on some cellophane noodles, bean curd slab, stir-fried pork, fried squid and seafood pancake that all got smooshed around in the styrofoam container. It's not pretty to look at.

I also picked up a $3 plastic tub of radish kimchi, which totally smelled up the subway. I didn’t realize I was the stinky culprit until I got to my desk at work and noticed the odor was following me and didn’t stay behind in the subway system. The kimchi I’ll eat throughout the week with other stuff.

I would trade Yip’s for Woorijip in a millisecond. I love greasy Americanized Chinese food on occasion, but the spicier, cleaner flavors of Korean would be more welcome on a regular basis. Though in a totally different vein, I am excited to hear that Bon Chon is coming down to the Financial District.

Woorijip * 12 W. 32 St., New York, NY

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Sep 22

Aldea

Portuguese isn’t a cuisine I’ve eaten countless times but I know enough to realize that wasabi and coconut milk aren’t standard Iberian ingredients. Modern is definitely the keyword at Aldea, from the sleek, blond wood and white leather bi-level space to the flavor combinations that appear on the plate.

Aldea may not be an impenetrable scene but it there was a full house at 9pm on a Friday, for sure. Even with reservations we had a bit of a wait, which I don’t mind when the staff is gracious and affable. I think they’ve hit the right note of professionalism and casualness in both service and food. The cooking is high caliber—chef, George Mendes was visible in the open kitchen—but never feels uptight.

Presunto, cured Portuguese ham was offered alongside serrano and Benton’s country ham. It was the obvious choice since I’d never tried it before. The thin slices weren’t markedly different from Spanish jamon, maybe a touch lighter and less fatty.

Sea urchin toast, cauliflower cream, sea lettuce, lime. Sure, I had a few glasses of vino verdhe in me but you wouldn’t think my palate would be so out of whack that I tasted phantom wasabi in this. James didn’t detect it and I’m not seeing it listed on the current online menu. I swear that off-white smudge wasn’t pure cauliflower, which is kind of like the anti-wasabi in its blandness. My only complaint was that the snack was gone in seconds. I guess that’s why it’s called a petisco, a.k.a. little bite.

Baby cuttlefish, caramelized lychee, mentaiko, squid ink. This appetizer also rambled well beyond European borders; more liberties were taken with the smaller dishes. The coconut foam worked with the sweetness of the lychee and mild curls of seafood. I wish I had concentrated more on the cod roe.

Arroz de pato, duck confit, chorizo, olive, duck cracklings. Every mention ever of Aldea notes the duck rice so I played along. If the only meat included was the rosy, sliced duck breast, I might be disappointed. Sous-vide cooking certainly makes the dark poultry tender—and it wasn’t close to mushy—but there’s no point to duck unless it’s accompanied by some of that glistening, fatty skin, all the better if it has been crisped up. The duck cracklings made this dish and the browned coins of chorizo added pleasantly to the oily richness. The little blobs of apricot sauce weren’t out place; they provided a sweet-tart lift to this otherwise hefty bowl of rice. Fruity touches appeared to be a theme.

Sea-salted Chatham cod, market cranberry and fava beans, lemon-basil. Ok, you knew cod had to be on the menu. Not bacalao, though.

Aldea sonhos, spiced chocolate, smoked paprika apricot, hazelenut praline

Sonhos, spiced chocolate, smoked paprika apricot, hazelnut praline. I feel like I’ve had this dessert before, obviously not with all three of these dips, I just can’t remember where. And I’m not confusing it with churros and chocolate. I love having choice, but when it came down to it the dark chocolate had the most impact.

Parting sweets.

Aldea * 31 W. 17th St., New York, NY

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Sep 4

Shake Shack

Did I love it? Yes, I did and plan to tackle the outdoor location now that Fall weather is creeping up and I’m becoming zen about insufferable lines.

It’s one thing to say you’ve never eaten at Masa, many haven’t, but it’s quite another to admit you’ve never been to Shake Shack. I’m
line-phobic, I’m sorry. And I still haven’t braved the Madison Square Park trauma. It just happened that I was unexpectedly dispatched to the Upper West Side on a Saturday afternoon.

Try Gus and Gabriel because it’s new? Kefi, which has always sounded vaguely interesting but is just too far? I’ve already tried the uptown Fatty Crab. It had to be Shake Shack.

Now that the weather has become balmy and manageable, that brief painful humid spurt already seems like the distant past. I wouldn’t say that 90-degree, sauna-like conditions are optimal for double cheeseburgers. But all went smoothly, even during prime time, we didn’t wait more than ten minutes for food and were able to snag a table inside.

My bun literally disintegrated from the hot air trapped in the waxed wrapper combined with the heat from my hands. The tall layered sandwich began to meld into one squished mass on the end where I was holding it. Which isn’t to say that the juicy, melted mess wasn’t tasty, I just had to devour the burger faster than normal because it was falling apart before my eyes. Seasonings and any subtleties of flavor were lost, no time for pondering patties.

And because that wasn’t enough molten gooeyness, we ordered cheese fries. Once you’ve crossed the line into excess, there’s no sense in retreating. As a fan of processed, bright orange, the thick, mild real cheese sauce was a shock. A good shock, not bland in the way macaroni and cheese can be (I think I’m a rare mac & cheese hater). Now I’m ruined for Nathan’s cheese fries.

If I had any doubts as to whether Shake Shack qualified as a chain, they have been quelled. Seven new overseas branches are planned for Saudi Arabia and Dubai. Maybe they can make lamb burgers.

Shake Shack * 366 Columbus Ave., New York, NY

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Aug 28

Le Relais de Venise

Le Relais de Venise is responsible for cutting my lunk-headed
attempt at banning sugar, starch and alcohol from my diet for the month
of August three weeks short. I am weak in the face of golden skinny
fries and inexpensive red wine. $20 bottles of drinkable Bordeaux? I
caved.

Locations already exist in London, Barcelona and Paris, where the restaurant originated. I can’t put my finger on why…well, maybe the maid outfits the all-female servers wear combined with a blind Francophila (I’ll never forget the story about Japanese tourists in France being so traumatized by rude treatment they had to go into therapy)
but I can see Japanese loving this place. And from what I understand
the no reservations policy creates line-ups in other cities. No such
thing on an early Friday evening in Midtown. This could be the result
of the office-heavy location, lack of awareness or possibly because New
Yorkers don’t like their steak soft and sauced.

And
you will be ordering steak since that’s the only entrée on the menu.
The $24 prix fixe includes a salad with a mustardy tarragon dressing
and walnuts and steak frites in two portions. This quirk is intended to
keep the food warm; plates are kept at side stations atop little
flames. It could also induce panic to Americans accustomed to big fat
slabs of meat rather than a fan of rosy protein that could fit into the
palm of your hand.

I do prefer minerally beef with fatty rims
and charred exterior, pale pink inside, but I can appreciate non-aged
sirloin as well. I’d take this over Outback Steakhouse, you know, just
for chain comparison. Oddly, medium-rare is not a choice. Degrees of
doneness start at bleu, go up to rare then jump to medium (let's not
talk about well). We took a chance on the medium, banking that it would
be on the rare side. It was.

The
sauce is butter rich, herby and possibly flavored with liver. That
sounds a little odd but there was an unmistakable offal funk in the
background. I actually preferred the sauce with the fries, which were
perfect in their golden yet still pliable form.

Service
is swift. Despite only a handful of the tables being occupied in the
spacious corner restaurant, courses came quickly. Our seconds were
brought before we had polished off our firsts. My barely eaten fries
were topped off and made equal to James’s pile that had a deeper dent.
Advice to fried potato gluttons: the more fries you initially eat, the
more will be replaced.

The
dessert list was surprisingly long. We opted for cheese since I was
still operating under the delusion that I was detoxing (though I’ve
gone soft on alcohol, bread and potatoes I do restrict my sugar) and
fat is preferable to me than sweets. Comte, brie and a blue of some
sort were a nice finish. For only a few bucks more you can get a glass
of port with your cheese but we still had wine to carry us through.

I
don’t have a good feeling about this location and the concept seemed to
confuse many who walked up to the window menu with only one meal
listed. But it’s definitely worth at least one try even if you’re not
in the immediate neighborhood.

Le Relais de Venise * 590 Lexington Ave., New York, NY

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Aug 27

Yerba Buena Perry

Would Yerba Buena Perry be a mere offshoot or a bonafide chain? It’s all in the eye of the beholder and for my nefarious purposes: chain.

I’m very much not a party photographer if that isn’t painfully obvious. Besides, I don’t really get off on the blogger role during events and openings and the like—I just want to mingle and enjoy the food and drink without making the poor servers stop and hold their trays still. Not that that was even possible at the new Yerba Buena (which should open today) because the food was literally decimated before the plates made it more than a few feet out of the kitchen.

I did snag a pretty, layered pisco mojito (pisco, bitters, lime and yep, yerba buena) and moved onto wine from there (and then dark chocolatey stout at Spuyten Devil after that—not so smart for a Monday night).

Breaded fried avocado slices were a hit (El Almacen has also been doing these—anyone else?) though I finally encountered the unthinkable: something breaded and fried that completely grossed me out, which isn’t to say the dish was ill-conceived, I just happen to hate melon more than any food on the planet. Yes, they’ve coated and crisp-fried slices of watermelon. Other “Latino Fries” will include more sensible hearts of palm, yuca, plantains, jalapenos and cactus.

Cheesey manchego croquettes, arepas topped with pork and a spicy fish taco were also promising. Of course these were all nibbles. I look forward to trying something more substantial. Maybe the parrillada?

Yerba Buena Perry * 1 Perry St., New York, NY

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Jul 27

Cowgirl Sea-Horse

Cowgirl Hall of Fame will always be the '90s to me–squarely in the same camp as Moustache or Mugs Ale House–places I ate when I first moved to New York and didn't give much serious thought to food. Cowgirl Hall of Fame is where birthdays tended to be celebrated or large groups would convene. Just last month a vegetarian friend (I point this out because people who can only eat a small proportion of the menu don't always have the best sense of what's generally good) asked for restaurant advice to give to visitors from Germany. She had steered them to toward Cowgirl, among others. Eh, if they wanted "American" food, The Redhead might be a better choice. Clearly, Cowgirl still holds sway with many, though.

2009 or not, I, myself, was curious about Cowgirl Sea-Horse (I’m still not clear why seahorse is hyphenated—would you say cow-girl?). It's quintessential Friday night fare. By 6pm I've all but given up and fried food and beer walking distance from my office sounds like the best idea I've had in ages.

A week after opening, the restaurant, on a lonesome corner across from the Brooklyn Bridge's underbelly, was hopping. An enormous party of 25+ youngsters were attempting to take over the back room (where we were seated), little kids were running around and falling over each other, a few of James' coworkers even randomly stopped in. Service was upbeat but clearly overwhelmed. I wouldn't want to make any strong judgments about the slow as molasses pacing so soon. I expected as much on a weekend.

Texas caviar, a.ka. black eyed peas in a vinaigrette, were a gratis starter despite being listed on the menu for $3.50.

Rattlesnake bites are grilled bacon-wrapped jalapenos stuffed with shrimp. These smokey vegetal poppers are a form of Russian roulette, every third one you get a seriously hot chile. As you can also see, some are more done than others.

I wouldn't have ordered the clam fritters, not only because we already had plenty of starters but because inevitably you end up with a mouthful of bready filler. There was a decent amount of firm meat in these, though. More jalapeno in the tartar sauce.

Trying to avoid any more oil-bathed items (James had the oyster po boy and onion rings) I went for the tacos. Weird, yes. Sometimes I like the American shredded lettuce and cheddar style, but hard shells would've been too much. I wasn't expecting wheat tortillas as the "soft" option, though. These were floppy fun handheld drinking snacks. The pulled pork was on the dry side, even if it wasn't sharply obvious with all the accouterments.

Afterward, I wandered over to the Water Taxi Beach to see how it compared to Long Island City’s version. Well, for one you don't have to pay $10 to enter in Queens. At umbrella’d tables on the other side of the barrier next to the shops, groups had set up their own party complete with R&B blasting from a boom box. Smart? And as you continued around the back of the shopping center, the crowd became whiter and whiter until it suddenly became very '90s for the second time in one hour. The big stage was encircled by a tightly-packed crowd, disproportionately gray-haired and crows-feeted, bobbing up and down to Superchunk. Yes, Brooklyn babysitters must've made a killing that night. Despite being of that demographic, I was never a fan, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing a $6 plastic cup of beer just to stand a while and ponder the state of 2009.

Cowgirl Sea-Horse * 259 Front St., New York, NY

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Jul 17

Szechuan Gourmet

We're lucky to have a decent selection of Sichuan restaurants scattered throughout three boroughs. Now I’m hoping that Hunan will be the next break out regional Chinese cuisine. But with Grand Sichuan House and Bamboo Pavilion kind of nearby in Brooklyn, I rarely feel compelled to patronize any of the midtown joints. I finally got to Gourmet Szechuan, though, only because I was Koreatown realizing that I wanted spicy food of a different sort (plus the lines at Kunjip were intimidating).

It's been nearly a year since the New York Times decided to pay a serious visit, a marginally odd choice for the Bruni slot. And despite a copy of the review blown up at least seven times the original size adhered to the front window, the sit-down clientele was predominately Asian. Those waiting for takeout were not.

The most uncomfortable part of the meal was being privy to the ordering foibles of two middle-aged gentleman, mostly likely Mexican, who were seated directly next to me. They were getting thwarted in all kinds of ways, both through language and dashed expectations. The waitress really didn't want them to have lo mein and fried rice, they didn't want anything "picante" (hey, not all Latinos love spice) and they specifically wanted Pepsi, which they didn't have, juice was their second choice (also not available) so they settled for Coke. I witnessed a similar series of events go down at Grand Sichuan House once. Some people just want to eat American-Chinese food (which is on the menu at both) and have no desire to expand their culinary consciousness. That's ok. I imagine it could go both ways despite my never having witnessed Chinese people chancing upon a taqueria looking for hard shells and cheddar cheese. It's generalizing but I think Chinese (not Chinese-American) might be more inclined to eat only their own food.

We always order dan dan noodles, just because. In fact, we were intending to make a batch during the week but neither grocery store we tried (Stop & Shop and Wegmans) had ground pork, which is just strange.

Instead of my usual cold tongue or tripe, I opted for bamboo shoots. I had to get a vegetable in even if it involved a sea of chile oil. The peppercorn level in all of the dishes was what I'd call a medium, creating a pleasant buzz that still leaves your ability to taste intact. These crunchy strips were served with "fernbraken." If I didn't know better I would've guessed by the wetness and chew, that this mystery ingredient was a type of seaweed but if I'm correct it's part of a fiddlehead fern. I've mentioned before that fiddleheads creep me out; luckily, this dish was absolutely un-creepy.

A creature of habit, I wanted the dish that's bacony and smothered with softened oily leeks. I thought this would be #65 Stir Fried Chef's Sun Dried Pork Belly with Leeks but our controlling waitress, the same woman who wouldn't let our neighbors order both noodles and rice, steered me toward # 46 Stir Fried Fresh Pork Belly with Chili Leeks, instead. This was the version I had in mind with fat-striped thin rectangles of pork, though I imagine the chewier smoked version would've also been good.

I'm not as enamored by the crispy cumin lamb as others seem to be. I've seen it discussed at length on message boards and I'm fairly certain it received praise in the Times review. All the greaseless renditions I've tried are likeable but the dish feels more bar snacky and after a few nuggets a dry monotony sets in. We dunked ours in the slick pool of spicy remnants that had collected at the bottom of the nearly empty dan dan noodle bowl. For Sichuan lamb flavored with cumin, there's nothing better than the foil-wrapped seared version covered with a fistful of cilantro at Little Pepper.

I would be more inclined to head to south South Brooklyn or Flushing if the Sichuan urge grabbed me in the evening but I am jealous of midtowners with two Szechuan Gourmet locations for lunch. The Financial District is a paradise for cheap carby Chinese food—all the fried rice and lo mein you can eat with no judging—but even a Yip's apologist like myself needs a break every now and then.

Szechuan Gourmet * 21 W. 39th St., New York, NY

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Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Great New York Noodletown

OBAO Preview

Tipsy Parson

Woorijip

Aldea

Shake Shack

Le Relais de Venise

Yerba Buena Perry

Cowgirl Sea-Horse

Szechuan Gourmet

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