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Posts from the ‘NYC’ Category

Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.

I would be remiss in not taking part of all that
Times Square has to offer, now that my office in right in the thick of it. And
if there's one thing chains are adept at, it's responding fairly rapidly on social
media.

I put out a plea. And Bubba Gump was there for me (29 minutes later). 

But really the deciding factor was that out of the many choices in a one-block radius, it was the only chain I'd never tried before. That shrimpy alien-eyed mascot in a top hat had beckoned many times in New Orleans, but I'm not a monster. Three visits in, there's no way that even I could justify allocating a dining occasion there in such a food-rich city. But I'm here all the time and have no problem sacrificing a meal in search of greater knowledge. Bubba Gump Times Square is a very YOLO experience.

I expected tourists. I did not expect foreign
tourists. There's a heck of a lot of Italian, Spanish and British-accented
English being spoken in line–and yes, there's a line, despite the multiple
wood-planked dining rooms that sprawl along the second floor overlooking the
northeast corner of 44th and Broadway. More American than New York, though, two
diners will still be given a raised booth that could easily seat six, almost
making it worth the wait. (For the record, Guy's American Kitchen, equally
large, on the same block, looked like you could walk in and snag a table
immediately.)
Bubba gump sign

Are the foreigners Forrest Gump fans? I ask, because
a friend who's worked in the Viacom building and wondered why anyone would line
up, didn't realize the restaurant was themed after the movie. Memorabilia is
everywhere and so are the cameras capturing it. My only interaction with the
film was once choosing it over True Lies on an unusually hot Portland night
because I was desperate for air conditioning, drunk, and I could get in free to
movies. I missed the first half, and barely remember the second half.

Bubba gump blue hawaii

They push the commemorative glasses with the
cocktails, but you can buy your Sierra Mist, blue curacao, rum, vodka, gin and
pineapple juice, a.k.a. the Blue Hawaiian, to consume in the normal manner,
just renting the glass. The drink are sweet and you won't get drunk, despite
the Long Island Iced Tea-esque list of ingredients. Even two stiff brown
spirited cocktails at Rum House afterwards won't mitigate the aqua-ness.

Bubba gump shrimper's net catch

Calories are listed on the menu, as is now the law, and
no surprise, quite a few dishes break the 1,000 limit. Peel and eat shrimp will
not (only 300, if you care). The most popular dish by far is the Shrimpers
Heaven, basically 1,420 calories worth of fried shrimp every which way. Vacationers
don't care.

Bubba gump bubba's far out dip

If you want a little more cheese and fat, with
spinach and artichokes thrown in, Bubba's Far Out Dip will suffice.

Bubba gump dumb luck coconut shrimp

And if it's requisite breading and frying you're
after, the coconut shrimp with a marmalade dip, supposedly Cajun, works and you
don't even have to like seafood because of all the orange and coconut sweetness.

There is a dish called Bubba's After the Storm
"Bucket of Boat Trash," which I hope makes more sense to those who
paid better attention to the movie.

Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. * 1501 Broadway, New York, NY

Best Pizza

I shouldn't be too harsh on my friends' eating
quirks because it's not as if they have no good ideas. I would've walked by
Best Pizza, never giving it a second thought, if I hadn't been introduced to it
and the vegetable (god, never say veggie or veg) slice earlier this year. Not the
green pepper, olive, mushroom blech that passes for a non-meat slice, but kale,
beets, cauliflower and blobs of ricotta that are more of a treat.

Best pizza

The white slice, which only occurred to me yesterday
after being called out in the latest installment of Real Cheap Eats devoted to
food off the L line
, is the better meatless option, if you ask me, though. Less
crusty, so the toppings (not that there are a lot of them) have more presence.
Lemony ricotta, sweet caramelized onions and an unexpected sprinkling of sesame
seeds are all you need. Oh, and maybe a shake or two of chile flakes.

Best Pizza * 33 Havemeyer St., Brooklyn, NY

Xixa

 

Xixa group

A most serious issue has emerged where I’m just not going to be able to try all of the restaurants I would like if it requires convincing a dining companion. I do not surround myself with the foodish, through financial circumstance (not that I’m sitting on a pile of gold) or dietary predilection–bones, spice, meat, offal, all fish, raw fish have been deal-breakers–the pickings for company can be slim.

I’ve toyed with starting a column just for the subject, but there’s no surer way to get ridiculed, particularly if you’re female. Solo dining is divisive. On the one extreme are the solo shamers who find an aversion to eating alone ludicrous, and then there are the anxiety-ridden who would rather just go hungry (or go on Seamless) than suffer the perceived indignity. I don’t mean grabbing a slice of pizza for lunch. How many would dine at Noma alone? (I would say El Celler de Can Roca to be more timely, but apparently one of those Roads & Kingdoms dudes has written an essay on exactly that already. And I’m not surprised it’s a guy—there is something more pitiable than a lone lady.)

Thankfully, I was able to coax a friend into wandering over to Xixa (revamped Fatty ‘Cue was a no go–there’s brisket in the mustard greens and pork dressing on the eggplant) where  even on a Saturday night there was an open spot for two at the end of the communal table (which wasn’t horrible–I’m not a good space-sharer–but it does require a suck-in or a
stand-up for others to get in and out if you’re against the wall). And really, the bar would’ve been perfectly fine for a single diner.

First off, Xixa, despite what’s been said about it, isn’t particularly Mexican. I mean, more so than Traif, and there are avocados and chiles, but this is “tacos,” “tamales” and “guacamole” territory.

The grilled carrots, sweetened with honey and smoothed with a lime crema and feta, were amazing. The coriander was expected; the dill was not.

Best new breakfast

The hunks of avocados with raw vegetables and puffed rice cakes, a.k.a. nam prik num, was surprisingly weak. This was the one dish I was gung ho on trying because my new favorite breakfast (above) consists of mashed avocado, crunchy sea salt and a few dabs of sharply hot and shrimpy nam prik ta-dang (I alternate with a catfish version—both from Sripraphai) on toasted German pumpernickel health bread. I wanted that extreme burst of salinity, fishiness and heat.

The chile rellenos stuffed with burrata and a zucchini-mushroom-fennel escabeche, and the corn flan with crab and a poblano cream were not mine. I made personal entrées of a butterfish tartare with an avocado mousse and chips and the standout duck lettuce wraps, which came with dark slices of meat mixed with raisins and peanuts,  and a banana puree and cubed cucumbers and halved grape tomatoes as garnish. It’s a lot of sweet, and the banana had potential to be creepy, despite plantains making total sense with these flavors, but it all worked.  Even the non-meat-eater who is slowly and selectively acclimating to poultry, as long it’s chewy and well-done, gave these a try.

The meal begins a tiny amuse (a snap pea turned  into a taco filled with crema and a frico) and ends with a one-bite sweet (a brownie-like thing), both extra touches that make the meal more special. Even if every small plate wasn’t perfect, the overall effect was pleasing.

P.S. I know these photos look like hell. I’m kind of over SLRs at the table, but iPhones don’t cut it. A new in-between camera arrived just hours ago; we’ll see how it pans out.

Xixa * 241 S. Fourth St., Brooklyn, NY

 

 

Selamat Pagi

Selamat pagi trio

You could take issue with white people better known
for their artisanal ice cream cooking Balinese food (I withhold judgment) or
that what they're calling Balinese is more generally Indonesian (ok, that’s
sort of an issue) but where else are you going to find rendang in North (or
South, for that matter) Brooklyn?

And the beef rendang was good, rich and stewed
tender in coconut milk, lightly spicy with cinnamon and star anise undertones.
The only weirdness were the pickles, which were, uh, pickles. I was expecting
crisper shallots and matchstick-cut carrots and cucumbers (yes, pickles are cucumbers).
You just never know in Brooklyn because at Three Letters it was the complete
opposite: fried pickles turned out to be fried pickled vegetables. For further
confusion there was a $4 seasonal pickle plate (as well as that old Balinese
specialty, deviled eggs) listed in the snack section—who knows what it
contained?

The last of the three snacks was shrimp chips with
three sambals—two very lemongrassy, one more tomatoey, all hot. It’s a nice shared
starter. Sambals, nam priks and their ilk are fussy to make, so I’m always
happy to eat someone else’s selection.

The non-small plates are served as entrées, not
family style, so my bite of mahi mahi coconut curry was inconclusive. I did not
try the tamarind tempeh that was also present.

Everything is organic; the beef is grass-fed.
Descriptors like wild, biodynamic and heritage make appearances. Items are
priced accordingly, which isn’t to say outrageous (the rendang was $17)
especially when you consider that there is now a food truck selling beef
rendang to go for $13.

If you come from Tørst like I did, you can continue drinking
Evil Twin beer. Hipster Ale, of course.

Selamat Pagi * 152 Driggs Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Spicy, Meatless, Horseless

Brooklyn taco duo

Brooklyn Taco The Saturday afternoon pop-up housed
inside Williamsburg's Donna was a pleasant surprise. Happy hour drinks
practically call for a little stomach padding. Guacamole (for god’s sake, never
say "guac"–do I even have to tell you not say "marg?")
always bores me to death and is overpriced to boot (I’m fine enjoying the
two-dollar's worth of raw materials in my own home) but for reasons I don’t
understand everyone always wants to order a shitload for the table, so I was a
mildly amused that the usual crowd-pleaser was fiery enough to elicit dismay. I'm
not even sure where they heat was lurking in the green mash. Same with the
tacos; those who went for the vegetarian version got dosed with a blast of
chile heat. Maybe the meat-avoiders were being punked? The cabeza was spicy,
not brutally so, and I was happy to have a chewy, substantial choice instead of
some stewed San Loco/Calexico blahness.

Blossom I probably wouldn’t have chosen a vegan
restaurant out of my own volition (though animal-free dishes are a step above
raw foods) but others’ birthdays are like that. And the
pistachio-and-pepper-dusted tofu was better than the sum of its parts. Probably
because of the foundational crepe stuffed with a root vegetable puree and the thick
lemon truffle sauce. It was more rich than austere. My camera photo was hideous enough that it decided to leave it out–I hate to give vegan cooking an even worse image.

Qi Bangkok Eatery I’m really not obsessed with Qi
even though I do get a kick out of the Williamsburg location (I'm pretty sure
I've mentioned it at least twice). It turns out that I now work a block from
the one on Eighth Avenue so I had to take a peek. I was surprised that they
also have a menu by Pichet Ong a.k.a. the “Bangkok Selection” (and that there
are still peep shows in Times Square) but it’s not the same as in Williamsburg,
no Ovaltine ribs, etc. and only available after 5pm. I just had the lunch
combo, steamed chicken dumplings that were kind of boring but not bad and
chicken basil chile stirfry that was spicier than expected for not having to
ask for extra heat. $7.95 isn’t a horrible price (you could pay $13 for a
takeout salad over here) for two dishes in a non-frenzied setting. I'll probably go back and just get a larb and a glass of Riesling (drunk lunch is my new midtown M.O.–don't tell anyone) You don't
like chandeliers in lucite boxes and Louis Ghost chairs during your lunch break?

Bonefish grill april duo
Bonefish Grill Ok, well, I am obsessed with Bonefish
Grill. Twice in one quarter is a lot even for me. This is a weirdo location in
Paramus that instead of sharing space with a fellow OSI brand like Carrabba’s is
attached to a Crowne Plaza next to a mall. So it felt like I was on a vacation.
There was no trout for my grilled fish with pan Asian sauce (pretty much soy,
ketchup and oyster sauce
) so it was scallops and shrimp instead. They did,
however, have a new appetizer, white tuna, a.k.a. escolar, a.k.a. shit fish
sashimi (that's seared) which I ordered because I’m wild that way. The seasonal sides have
progressively gotten more creative. I don’t mean that chickpeas, spinach and
turkey sausage is Michelin-worthy, just that it’s trying a little harder than the
usual mashed potatoes, rice or steamed vegetables.

Ikea Horse-free, I think, not that I would be
bothered by a little horse meat (apparently, the Swedes aren't either). I
haven’t eaten in an Ikea cafeteria in years—when did they replace the boiled
new potatoes with mashed?

 

 

 

 

 

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Bready

Saltie balmy sandwich

Saltie I'm extremely late to this tightly edited collection of mostly focaccia-based sandwiches (I'm still not clear how the little shop managed to fill an entire cookbook) because I never used to be anywhere near Metropolitan Avenue before 6pm and I am a sad person who tries to avoid bread and eschewing sandwiches is the easiest way to do that. You hear about the Scuttlebutt and the one that's mostly lettuce (don't think it's currently served) but the Balmy may be a sleeper hit. Like an American banh mi with the pate in the starring role, this hearty sandwich combines a thick layer of liver and shaved ham with pickled onions, carrots (and assorted other unidentifiable things) green olives, parsley instead of cilantro, a little jalapeño and swipe of mayonnaise. It's the soft bread (and lack of fishy component) that sets it apart.

Bien cuit duo

Bien Cuit Once the bread floodgates have opened,
there is no stopping. Even though I never once visited the full-service Smith
Street location, I was excited to hear about the weekend bread-only pop-up,
oddly situated on the ground floor of that odd narrow bright blue apartment
building on Metropolitan near the BQE turnoff that looks like something you'd
see in Amsterdam. I needed something grainy for an Easter butternut squash and
kale strata, but ended up going with the sturdy baguette instead of the
many-grain, which seemed too intense for what was essentially a breakfast
casserole. What I really wanted in addition to eat with two pounds of Acme
smoked salmon was a dark, chewy smorrebrod rye like they serve at Aamanns. Instead,
I returned Sunday and picked up that seriously dense many-grain (buckwheat,
wheat, millet, rye, amaranth and black sesame), which is described as being complementary
to cheese, but works with gravlax and dilled sour cream too. Unfortunately, I underestimated
its edibility and had to send a guest out for another loaf (plus a rye &
sunflower, for good measure and to help make sandwiches of leftover ham).

Nomad quad

The NoMad What do you eat when you've already tried
the chicken for two?
(Funny, this question came up this week because though I
know it's a whole chicken, it really doesn't seem so.) You could order it
again. Or you could jump all over the menu while slicing and picking at the freshly baked foccacia. The sweetbreads croustillant,
a.k.a. eggroll-style are a little odd because they seem too naked, just soft
innards in a shell and no sauce. Fun in theory, but they needed something more.
The gratineed bone marrow with anchovy worked better (and though I'm contradicting
what I just said,  I kind of like my
marrow plain and unadorned with nothing more than crunchy grains of salt). The
lobster wasn't a disappointing chicken alternative, and light despite being
bathed in rich buttery foam that had that nice subtle licorice quality from the
fennel. The smooth white globe of ice cream in the coconut-centric dessert
resembled a hard-boiled egg so much it was nearly distracting.

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Celebs, Curry, Classics

Sweet chick trio

Sweet Chick I would not say that Williamsburg, or
NYC in general, needs another southern joint. How much fried chicken can a city
stand (and I love fried chicken)? Battered, craggy and sticky with sweetened
soy like the finest Chinese takeout, General Tso fried chicken, is a different
story. Add a light rice waffle with what appeared by be chopped Chinese
broccoli baked in and you have a fun blackboard special. Lest you think all
this retooled Americana is a young person’s game (jerky fries? purple
drank?)  it was good enough for Canadian
Pat Kiernan and family, who'd apparently made the block-and-a-half trek on a Sunday
night.


Laut curry meeLaut And then I (or rather my table-mate) spotted
Ric Ocasek and Paulina Porizkova the following night strolling past our window.
I only saw the backs of two tall, skinny people all in black. If an ‘80s
celebrity marriage can last this long, it gives hope for the rest of us. Laut
does the dreaded pan-Asian thing, mostly focusing on Thailand and Malaysia.
Stick with the latter. The laksa and curry mee wouldn’t compete with anything
you’d find in Queens or Chinatown, but where else are you going to get these
spicy soups anywhere above 14th Street? Ok, I take that
back—according to Menupages 12 other restaurants that fit that criteria.

Qi thai grill delivery

Qi Thai Grill is on Seamless, which tickles me, if
only because it means beef tendon salad and pork belly (not so crisp,
admittedly, after the journey) arriving at my door. Read more here.

Pok pok duo

Pok Pok And sometimes Brooklyn Thai needs to be
experienced in person. Reports of smaller post-hype crowds may be true, but
there is still likely to be a wait. In my case 45 minutes at 9:30pm on a Wednesday.
Kaeng kradang, a chalkboard special described a cold weather curry, turned out
to be a highly jellied pork terrine, feeling a little more French-Vietnamese
than Thai (though I know it's not). I would eat this on a baguette rather than
with finger-fulls of sticky rice. A duck salad and ribs with a pair of dipping
sauces rounded out the meal, just right for two, despite the server’s warning
that we had under-ordered. Keep your eye out for Columbia Street on a future
episode of The Americans (you’re watching it, right?). Film crews had taken
over a number of blocks near the waterfront. I did not see Keri Russell (who
apparently owns a Brooklyn brownstone, as all celebrities big and small, minus
Pat Kiernan, seem to).

Diner and Dumont While distinct restaurants,
obviously, these two that I hadn't patronized since the early '00s may end up
being Williamsburg old-timers as places like La Villita Bakery and La
Borinquena get pushed out. In the days before 20-somethings regularly dined on
entrees costing roughly their ages, $12 mussels and fries felt fancy (it was
the mayonnaise in lieu of ketchup that clinched it). That was the only thing I
ever ordered at Diner. Dumont still makes a nice burger. Supposedly, so does
Diner but I’ve never tried it (nor the steaks). Because I may be a decade older
but still not free-spending, I didn’t bother ordering any of the specials with
no prices mentioned. I will admit that a squid salad with lentils and fennel and
duck breast with farro and kumquats were definitely a step up from the bowl of
bivalves.

Walter food duo

Walter Foods Pretty much the newer but not that new
version of the mid-20s people and prices place. Chicken, steak, pork chops–the
standards–are all ok, but nothing that would explain why the restaurant is
always so packed. While eating steak frites and deviled eggs, I realized that a
Shazam for faces would be a valuable invention. Right before closing, a dude
being filmed showed up and everyone seemed to know who he was. Then again, the
room also appeared to be morphing into a private after-hours space, so perhaps
the room was just filled with his friends celebrating his Kickstarter campaign.

Lodge I would lump Lodge right in with the above or
not even mention it at all. It's always been a non-entity to me, a place with
no appeal. But it was open relatively late on St. Patrick's Day (a blessedly
low-key, non barfy holiday in these parts) and so I stopped in and had my
frequent semi-boring office lunch, steak salad, but jazzed up with pears,
walnuts and goat cheese for dinner. It was certainly better than Flavors and I
give Lodge a leg up for playing My Bloody Valentine’s Ecstasy and Wine and Up For a Bit With the Pastels (neither on Spotify, annoyingly) both my driving to school in the
morning music, taped from record to cassette, of course.

 

Zizi Limona

threeshovelIt didn’t seem right to lump Zizi Limona in with the recent Williamsburg batch. Partially because even though the newish Mediterranean-plus restaurant got
the Hungry City treatment and a Brooklyn Heatmap nod, whenever I pass by–maybe at the wrong times–I see a candlelit expanse of diner-less tables. And that’s just not right.

The above-mentioned plus is that it’s not just a falafel joint, something it might be getting unfairly pegged as. Recently when deciding where to eat with a group, I suggested Zizi Limona because it wasn’t likely to pose a seating trauma on a Saturday night. It was shot down with the supposition that a friend of a friend didn’t want kebabs because she’d just spent the past few years in Iraq. No arguments in this case–Williamsburg is rife with all-American food; fried chicken, burgers and bbq for miles–but the not wanting kebabs argument could be a problem. For what it’s worth, there are seven items in the section called Classic Big Zi’s (as opposed to less traditional Big Zi’s, Small Zi’s and salads) and only one involves kebabs, served with a mysterious sounding black babaganoush.

Zizi limona tershi

I may try the lamb eventually, but other dishes give a fuller picture of the border-crossing style. Take the Tershi, Jewish by way of Libya, a naturally sweet, gingery pumpkin mash grounded with cumin and stewed chickpeas. I don’t know anywhere else in NYC that serves it.

Zizi limona sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

Or the bourekas, called here Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar, flaky pastry cylinders stuffed with non-traditional mozzarella and basil and moved eastward with almonds and honey.

Zizi limona chicken liver

A special featured chicken liver, rich, unadorned (I thought it might be coated and fried) and served with Jerusalem artichoke (or sunchoke, if you rather) two ways: pureed as a base and slivered and fried to a crisp as a garnish gone wild. Hit with thyme and Santorini vinegar, like a less sweet balsamic, this was about as far from a kebab as you could get.

Zizi Limona * 129 Havemeyer St., Brooklyn, NY

Eaten, Barely Blogged: 11211

Le Comptoir It seems like just yesterday I moved to
Clinton Hill, but that was five months ago. Now it’s winter and I’m living in
Williamsburg where there is easily ten times the number of restaurants and I may as well be a grandma. That’s
one reason why Le Comptoir seemed like an odd choice to be name-checked in the
new rental’s glowing ad copy.
I wouldn’t consider the bistro notable enough to
convince anyone to move nearby and only went because I wasn’t in the mood for a
long Saturday night wait after a day of moving and it was empty (while Walter
Foods next door was at capacity) at first, then filled with drinkers up front.
I think they live on their all-you-can-drink weekend brunch. Service was
predictably wonky and my Sazerac, which I only ordered because it was listed,
was served iced like the Manhattans in Southeast Asia. My steak tartare with
salad was fine, if not generously portioned for $11. A fallback, not a first
choice.

Briskettown breakfast tacos

BrisketTown I’ve still not experienced the primetime
bbq (nor the just introduced lunch sandwiches) but during the day they serve
the brisket–and you should get the brisket–in Austin-style breakfast tacos.
The floppy flour tortillas make the creation feel more like an open-faced
burrito. Despite tales of lines for dinner and running out before closing time,
there was not another soul inside for the morning shift. Though the pulled pork
and brisket look similar (I did not try the vegetable, the third offering) each
had its own unique garnish: a slightly bitter cabbage for the pork and pickled
red onions for the smoked beef. The latter, blended with scrambled eggs and
chile sauce had the edge. I have never been to Texas so I can’t speak to any
authenticity–bacon or chorizo are the favored meats there–but the breakfast
tacos have been given thumbs up by more than one Austin transplant.

Forcella Part of the 2011 montanara pizza craze that
apparently has died down. And once again, we were the only diners on a
weeknight (not a good trend). I like the concept–it’s not as if they’re going
full-Scottish and battering and deep-frying the whole pizza–but it failed to
deliver. The whole center was sog, defeating the whole purpose of the fry. I
would’ve rather had a langos.

Maision premiere happy hour

 Maison Premiere A wild exception to the
everyplace is empty experience. Arriving at 4:05pm for the 4pm-7pm $1 oyster
happy hour was no prevention against waiting until 6pm until an iced tray of oysters
appeared in front of me. Whether or not this was the result of a
three-day-weekend Monday (I hope to god) or a normal Monday, I can’t say. And
the seating procedure was arcane, to boot. The initial 20-minute quote turned
out to be just to enter the restaurant, which was already at capacity, and not
for any guarantee of bar seating where you can order food (seats with ledges in
the bar are drinks-only). Said prime bar seating is a free for all and
predatory. If you wait another hour or so one of the real sit-down tables will
eventually become available. Logistics aside, a buck an oyster is a good deal,
and 18 varieties means you can get an education (I knew I liked Malpeques but
the super briny new-to-me Beausoleil and Totten Island oysters were the best)
even if it’s unlikely that I would return anytime soon (or could unless I snuck
off work early). The non-raw bar food is ambitious. Loup de mer crudo was
precious in size, though brightly flavored with grapefruit and marcona almonds
for a little richness. And I was not expecting a cloche and tableside saucing
with the langoustine and sweetbreads, especially not as the large group of
young men at the next table were doing their best impression of Dave Chapelle channeling
Rick James by shrieking “I’m rich bitch.”


Omg tacoOMG Taco
Technically 11206 (and no, this isn’t Bushwick) there is not probably any reason to eat
here other than being very drunk and/or needing food on the same block as the
Montrose L station.With that said, the bistec taco (pictured) could’ve been worse.

Taco Chulo There is not a strong argument to eat
here either, though I have done so many times. It is useful for large groups
with varying levels of interest in food–and there’s no harm in a margarita and
queso-drenched  nachos every now and
then.

WD-50

threeshovelThere are times when I’d like to start a gimmick blog, only eating at restaurants run by fellow Leos, traveling to every Bonefish Grill around the country, or subsisting on nothing but carbs for a year. Decaded, or maybe Aluminum Anniversary, would chronicle my mission to only eat at restaurants that have been open at least ten years. Or maybe ones where I haven’t been back in ten years? (Gael Greene is on this trend.)

I would have to wait a few months to include WD-50, but it would make for a worthy example. A lot can change in a decade.  My last visit was at the end of 2004 before the dilemma of whether or not to act like a civilized adult and leave the camera at home was a thought. Back then I only used words, I talked about the food even less than I do now, I didn’t do the tasting menu, and the restaurant seemed very upscale. I also thought I was too old to be drinking on the LES in 2004. Now, that’s a given and I’ve moved past it, so I hit Barramundi’s happy hour first just like
last time.

As to what upscale means now, WD-50 still is in price and intent, but as far as fine dining goes it’s relaxed (I ultimately opted for the camera, obviously, and it was no big thing), service is just friendly enough and the chef was hands on in the kitchen, despite Alder’s impending opening.

We’re at a contrarian moment regarding tasting menus. I’ll admit that I shy away from them more than I used to, but they have their place when marking  the periodic special occasion (in this case Valentine’s Day not on the 14th and not technically with someone who is my boyfriend any longer). Or when someone else is paying, of course.

I’m not so much of a nostalgist that I needed to dip into the vault, as they’re calling the smaller tasting menu that reprises classics. I wanted the modern version, the only other option, that was introduced last spring. Some of the dishes still bear a resemblance to the original iterations (I was extremely relieved to see that the honeydew had been dropped in the chartreuse dessert, but I wouldn’t have minded trying the root beer ribs).

I chose an Oregon pinot noir (after starting with a Rye Not?), Elk Cove’s 2010 Clay Court, because lighter reds are solid fallback if you’re going to stick with one wine for multiple courses, I have a soft spot for my home state, and West Coast pinot noirs made up a good number of the red wines on the list. Bizarrely, the couple next to use who only asked for “a red,” were steered toward Oregon pinot noirs. Is it a varietal and region for beginners?

Wd-50 nigiri, salsify, seaweed, sesame

Nigiri, salsify, seaweed, sesame. Cream cheese and seaweed are turned into spheres that mimick the trout roe, and that’s salsify not rice as the base. My original WD-50 visit prompted the created of the Eclectic/International category because I didn’t know where this food fell. I would be more inclined to just call it American now, sushi or not.

Wd-50 sweet shrimp, 'pine needles,' chestnut, cranberry

Sweet shrimp, ‘pine needles,’ chestnut, cranberry.  A little Nordic, a little Christmas. Pine needles freak me out in a good way, and these aren’t coniferous but crafted so they nearly dissolved in the mouth rather than offending with menthol chew.

Wd-50 pho gras

Pho gras. One of my favorites, maybe because it’s a play on a familiar dish. The rice noodles were almost superfluous; what mattered most were the foie gras torchon and beef tendon chicharron that could be doled out into the cinnamon-and-star anise-spiked consomme to melt and transform into a seriously luxe soup. The little dots of combo hoisin-and-Sriracha and microgreens only helped matters. No making fun of tweezer-style plating here.

Wd-50 bone marrow, potato, pomegranate, pepper streusel

Bone marrow, potato, pomegranate, pepper streusel. I liked the idea and presentation of this more than the reality. I may be mixing up where the potato and marrow end up, but if I’m correct the edible bone is made from the animal product and had a cartilagey, powdery quality while the invented marrow lacked the unctuousness the brain expects.

Wd-50 bay scallop, pear, oatmeal-nori

Bay scallop, pear, oatmeal-nori. Then again, this also played with that chalky texture in the form of oatmeal and it worked. I would never put a single one of these ingredients together, a blend that created a tamped down sweet-saline effect.

Wd-50 pig tail, artichoke, olive oil jam, hazelnut

Pig tail, artichoke, olive oil jam, hazelnut. There’s always a dish or two that slips past me. That description is from the website (somehow I didn’t get the paper menu) but I’m not convinced that’s what this was. Compressed meat, likely pork, yes, and there were definitely hazelnut overtones, but also lemon, and what looks like fluffy grated cheese and melting more like Monterrey Jack than parmesan, is bone marrow, maybe the bone marrow I missed in the potato dish.

Wd-50 bass, squash, cherry, juniper, couscous

Bass, squash, cherry, juniper, couscous.

Wd-50 squab, tomato hummus, pickled turnips, tzatziki

Squab, tomato hummus, pickled turnips, tzatziki. I was not expecting Mediterranean flavors. “Green liquid falafel right on,”  as my disjointed notes read. I’ll stick with that. There was also a pleasant livery flavor, likely from the game bird.

Wd-50 flatiron, mushroom jerky, grape, verjus

Flatiron, mushroom jerky, grape, verjus.  The meatiest course was also the most straightforward. Dried mushrooms and grapes and the umami and sweetness they added weren’t out of line with the thick cut of rare beef.

Wd-50 coconut, cucumber, pineapple, chartreuse

Coconut, cucumber, pineapple, chartreuse. The doom dessert that wasn’t, though it still was startlingly vegetal for my liking.  Barely sweet from the pineapple, it’s a bridge more than a dessert.

Wd-50 walnut, sweet potato, coffee, plum wine

Walnut, sweet potato, coffee, plum wine.

Wd-50 s'mores, bitter cocoa, meringue, blackberry

S’mores, bitter cocoa, meringue, blackberry. Ok, a real dessert. I don’t always remember the sweet courses like the one above, but this one with the smokiness, chile heat, fruit tartness (I tasted cherry rather than blackberry) and gooey texture stuck with me.

Wd-50 beer, malt, pretzel

Beer malt pretzel.

Big mac

How many times (don’t tell me never) have you heard the “I had to eat a Big Mac afterward,” cliche used to deride the sorry effeteness of tasting menus? I have never ever had that experience, but we hit the
McDonald’s on Delancey (Shamrock shakes are back!) afterwards anyway just to make the trope complete. I wasn’t hungry even an hour later,  safely home watching The Americans, but it had to be done.  What I took away after not having eaten this burger in at least two decades was that even if you’re not hungry after a tasting menu, you can always make room for a Big Mac.

 WD-50 * 59 Clinton St., New York, NY