Posts from the ‘NYC’ Category

Dec 19

Pegu Club

I really wanted to like this place. And at 6pm on a Monday, I thought we'd be safe. Safe from the crowds, yes. Safe from the showboating-to-neglect bartenders, no.

The space is lovely, the cocktails superb. But I only managed to enjoy one drink in the hour and a half I graced Pegu's presence. The Jamaican firefly, a gingery, dark rum riff on a dark and stormy, held me nicely for a spell. I thought I might like to try something made with applejack next. James wanted to order coconut shrimp even though we had 8pm reservations at Public. I wasn't opposed to sampling some haute bar snacks. But it was not to be since we couldn't get the attention of either bartender the rest of the evening (it makes one wonder if they'd be noticed if they chose to drink and dash). While sitting at the bar initially seemed optimal, perhaps the cozier tables with waitress service would've worked out better.

I understand this isn't a margarita machine, slap dash operation, they're crafting thought out cocktails with flourish and show. That's appreciated. But I took issue with the attention lavished on particular patrons, namely the couple seated next to us who perpetually engaged the one-step-up from Royal Oak, Williamsburger mixologist with their thrilling tale of a documentary in progress about new-school bartenders. Fine, impress friends, filmmakers, out-do each other with obscure liqueur awareness (peons like myself know what creme d'yvette is, too) but spread the wealth (of knowledge). Despite the club in Pegu's name, I thought this was a public space and not a private venue. I would like to return and likely will at some point, though I'm the type who has a hard time forgiving tainted first impressions.

Pegu Club * 77 W. Houston St., New York, NY

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Dec 19

Public

Though I don't do it very often, I love slowly getting drunk and spending more money than usual on fun food combinations. By the end of the evening, I'm never sure if I was blown away by my meal or if I'm in an unusually agreeable state of mind because of the wine and cocktails. I wish I had more experiences like this, and I suspect from reading reviews and blogs that quite a few New Yorkers blow hundreds of dollars on dinner numerous times a week. I don't know any of these gourmands personally, but one can only guess that sugar daddies, comps or expense accounts are involved. While a mildly peculiar resolution (to spend money more freely), I intend to attempt biweekly fine dining in 2006.

Public is one of those sort of high concept uber designed (I have to admit an attraction to the whole library chic motif–card catalogs, faux typewritten menus on clipboards, children's magazines on shelves, tempered with non-institutional gauzy panels–despite it not making much sense) places that I fully intended to visit when it first opened, but never got around to. There are just too many options in the city. But I'm glad that I chose it for our Christmas dinner this year.

We weren't the only ones who had the same idea. An office party, that I almost accidentally crashed, was going on in the "wine room" and large groups were also convivially celebrating throughout the space. We were seated next to one such family, so Manhattan. I can't even imagine my mother taking us anywhere classier than Poor Richard's, if we went out to eat at all. We spent a good portion of our meal trying to figure out if the diminutive female, sitting at her own table next to us, odd one out of a clan of six in three two-seaters, was a child or an adult. We ultimately decided on well behaved eleven-year-old. I don't think anyone said a word to her through the multi-course meal. Maybe that's very Manhattan, too.

For a starter I had the fried Coromandel oysters with shiso, sansho pepper and wasabi-yuzu dipping sauce. I don't know if I tasted the pepper, but wrapping the bivalve in the Japanese leaf was a nice contrast and cut the richness, sort of like using lettuce around Vietnamese spring rolls. My first choice would've been James's confit rabbit, foie gras, and Tahitian vanilla terrine with quince glazed grapes and breakfast radish (I have no idea what makes it a breakfast radish) but I was tipsy and didn't care enough to force him to relinquish his wise choice. Plus, he gave me a generous portion of the foie gras to shut me up.

I've noticed that I'm a complacent diner, meaning I'm not demanding and rarely ask questions. I frequently see waiters spending a good amount of time with tables and I guess this is expected and that I'm the weird one for knowing what I want and keeping the ordering process brief. But waitstaff seem to be disappointed when you don't need clarification. So, I was almost relieved when I saw an ingredient in my intended entre, grilled New Zealand snapper on curried cauliflower and kasundi with a crab, Thai basil and crispy garlic salad, which I was clueless about. Kasundi was a stumper. Our sweet waitress (she really was–the couple on our other side was drunker than we were and borderline obnoxious and she appeased them, no problem) informed me that it was a spicy tomato relish, and I swear my cluelessness warmed her to us. We tend to get cold service and I'm convinced it's because we don't elicit opinion and expertise.

Note the lone basil leaf

Following the lots of components, but one that's nearly absent formula, I didn't really notice the crispy garlic salad, which probably meant two slices of the clove. After earlier cocktails at Pegu Club, a gin and tonic in the bar and a few glasses of a random Semillon James chose on a whim because it wasn't Australian or New Zealand-ish, my thought processes were skewed. I actually chose this dish because I love fried basil, a Thai touch, but there was only a single leaf atop my stack of food. No matter, I enjoyed the flavors, which were very distinct, sweet, saline and hotter than anticipated. Kasundi is Indian, as it turns out.

Rather than finishing sweet as usual, we opted for a plate of Spanish cheeses (Caa de Cabra, Tetilla, Roncal and Valdeon) with marcona almonds, apple chutney and focaccia crisps. I also went for a glass of Fonseca port. I've neglected to mention the bread basket, which became an irrational focus for James. There was a fennel roll that he became enamored with and seemed hurt that we only got to choose one piece of bread at the beginning of the meal. Emboldened by the liquor and rambunctiousness of fellow diners, I was like "just ask for another," especially since the crisps ran out well before the cheese. Our waitress gladly obliged our request for extra starch.

Decimated and unappetizing, I know

And as we waited for the coat check girl to return to her post, we were mesmerized by the baskets of bread that were inexplicably housed on a shelf across from the closet. Yes, James stuffed his pocket with a fennel roll. I don't think he ever ate the pilfered bread–it'll eventually become a moldy souvenir.

Memories…

Public * Elizabeth St., New York, NY

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Dec 17

Thomas Beisel

Nothing like a little post-Brokeback Austrian meal. The Rockies…The Alps…whatever. I, like most New Yorkers, probably don't eat much German or Austrian food. Mainly because it's few and far between (and yes, I know the two cuisines aren't the same). Here, German tends to be outerborough and kitschy while Austrian leans toward pricy and gilt.

After a BAM matinee it became a toss up between Thomas Beisel and Junior's. Since I've been to the latter countless times TB's seemed in need of trying. It was a good choice, as it was early evening and not terribly crowded. We got a two-seater that temporarily (it was soon filled by a young couple who appeared to be on a first or second date and the guy went on about his firsthand knowledge of Austrian beers and the girl, who appeared to be Russian, filled him in on all her bouts with mental illness and eating disorders. Just so you know, now when she wants cake, she eats it and it's ok) had an empty table next to it with more than six inches of space.

We both started with a hearty gruyere-topped onion soup because that's hard to resist when it's icy outside. With a large glass of Hefeweizen, that would've been a meal in itself, but I wanted to sample the entrees. I went classic and ordered pork cheeks with sauerkraut and dumplings, which was even better than I'd expected. I thought the knoedel would be airy and boring, but they were dense, chewy and carmelized, if that's possible. I suspect the main ingredient was potato. They weren't little and round, but large, thick, flat ovals. James ordered a nutty special of halibut with scallions and ginger. I would've steered clear of Asian touches, but he seemed to like it, even though the fish was oddly matched with potatoes and sweet-sour red cabbage.

For some reason the restaurant strikes me as an older person's haunt, as if the flavors are more suited to a middle aged palate. Strange assessment, I know. Maybe I'm equating Thomas Beisel's clientele with the typical BAM-goer, which isn't unreasonable.

Thomas Beisel * 25 Lafayette Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Dec 8

Taku

So, I've finally deduced that it takes me about six months to actually try a new restaurant. Well-intentioned or not, I never seem to get to all the places on my list, even when they're walking distance from my apartment. And in NYC, nobody cares about a restaurant after six months.

I recall good things being said about Taku when it opened this summer. I don't know if they've kept things up at the same caliber, but I was unexpectedly under whelmed. James flat out didn't like food, which surprised me since he's never extremely passionate about anything, let alone cuisine.

My sashimi trio included…um, I can't even say for sure because it wasn't explained well and I'm not a raw fish whiz, I think uni and two different white fleshed fish varieties, along with a couple different seaweed salad tufts. It was fresh and just toothsome enough to remind me that I should eat Japanese food more often.

James ordered the wings, which I was interested in too. The sambal coating and cucumber cream dip sounded like a fun riff on Buffalo wings. They were presented prettily on a long ceramic plate and wrapped with a thin leaf. Unfortunately, the meat wasn't fully cooked, once you bit off the saucy exterior, the flesh was raw. It's a good thing neither of us are panicky about avian flu, or more realistically salmonella. I guess we should've said something, but it didn't feel worth the bother. There was a weird dispiriting vibe in the room, despite the surface soothing tones and music. Nothing overt, but the service managed to feel spacey and clunky, like I didn't want to do anything to further interactions or conversations. So, we kept mum on the sashimi wings.

I enjoyed my Taku ramen, which was ideal for a pork fanatic like myself. The tonkatsu broth was laden with thin slices of Berkshire pork and a nice substantial piece of rasher style bacon. The weird thing is that I expected more flavor, the broth was oddly flat and even the tiniest bit bitter. I think my taste buds could be tainted by my almost daily bowl of cheap Yagura chicken udon. I'm sure the stuff is teeming with salt and msg, but it's insanely savory and addictive. Maybe it's dashi derived vs. pork bone broth? No expert in Japanese soups, I'd always imagined pork broth to be the stronger flavored of the two.

James envied my ramen and loathed his scallops so much that he actually went home and ate a bowl of instant tom yam noodles. I thought his entre looked fine, though I became scared to taste it when he began insisting it was laced with mayonnaise. I wouldn't be surprised, Japanese are a tad mayo crazy, but the emulsified condiment wasn't listed as an ingredient. I only recall apple puree (as a bed for the seared sesame crusted scallops), celery root (a few scattered slices) and holy basil (in the form of lightly drizzled oil) as components. The celery root did appear to be coated in a white creamy sauce. I don't think the quality was poor, it just wasn't what he had had in mind.

Despite being offered a new job mere hours before this meal, we couldn't agree on whether this was a celebratory dinner or not. I said no at the end because it didn't go well and I wasn't feeling elated like I should've been. James said yes, since it ended up being more than we'd (ok, he'd) normally spend on food for a casual weeknight ($81). I don't care what he says, it didn't count–I'm getting another dinner.

Taku * 116 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

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Nov 30

Renee’s Kitchenette

I can't believe I forgot that Sripraphai is closed on Wednesdays. The last time Sripraphai was unexpectedly closed we ventured to Rice, further east on Roosevelt Ave., which made me sad because everyone wanted chopsticks, brown rice and fish sauce-less food. I wanted to pick up some mithai and those adorable Thai marzipan fruits for a party I was throwing and Wednesday night was really the only chance I thought I'd get (I was able to go back Friday, as it turned out).

Coming up with a plan B wasn't easy. Not in the mood for anything Hispanic or Indian, I was gung ho on either Malaysian or Filipino, two cuisines I can never get James to agree on (despite spending nearly two weeks on an eating journey in Malaysia this summer). Finally, he relented and said he could go for some grilled skewers from Ihawan.

Yay, victory. But then my thrill soon soured because I remembered that all those Filipino places close early. It was only a few minutes past 8pm, but yep, Ihawan was dark and shuttered. We only wanted food to go, so we were able squeak into Renee's before the 8:30pm closing (and I always thought Sripraphai was hardcore with their no orders after 9:30pm or whatever it is). Phew.

Grilled meats were a must for James. Lechon is an absolute for me. We ended up ordering a mixed grill, which came with beef skewers, pork belly, longaniza, and a chicken breast. All for $7. I like how the sweet smoky barbecued items are paired with a side of achara, pickled green papaya with raisins (I'm not sure how textbook this is, most recipes I've seen for the sour accompaniment don't use raisins. But I know Filipinos have a fondness for the dried grapes, probably a Spanish influence. My best friend growing up was from the Philippines and her mom would put raisins in the lumpia. Oh my god, I could eat a plate of toasty cylinders).

The crispy, fatty pork chunks came with a lechon sauce that was slightly different that what I've had before. It was darker, thinner and appeared to be speckled with caramelized onions. I love that stuff, and had no idea liver and breadcrumbs were main ingredients until maybe two years ago. I used to keep a bottle in the fridge, but never had any occasion to use it. Same with banana ketchup. I love that these condiments exist, though they don't necessarily fit into my daily routine.

James also ordered pork adobo just to keep up the porcine fest (I would've opted for chicken). Everything plus three boxes of rice (I swear, Filipinos are more rice crazy than other Asian cultures) totaled $18, which is amazing value if you consider that we had enough food for two meals. $4.50 a dinner is hard to beat.

Renee's Kitchenette * 6914 Roosevelt Ave., Woodside, NY

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Oct 31

Chipotle

1/2

I really dont get the appeal of overstuffed burritos, particularly ones rife with rice. But I was looking for something quick, cheap and near Sixth Ave. and 12th St. where I would be attending a Halloween party an hour later. So, I went the taco route instead. But I wasnt aware of all the options, I dont like fast food places like Subway or those salad counters where youre on the spot and have to pick and choose. Choice is nice, but I'd rather just have some solid standards. I ended up with three sad soft tacos with some shredded pork, hot sauce, white cheese and sour cream. Each bite was dominated by the chewy creamy combo of flour tortilla and dairy, like an unbaked quesadilla. It certainly didnt kill me, and provided padding for a not-smart-for-a-Monday-night drinking binge.

Chipotle * 510 Sixth Ave., New York, NY

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Oct 28

Cedar Tavern

I never know what to call this sliver between the east and west villages, below Union Square. I think some call it Greenwich Village, but Ive always thought that was a bit more west. I do know its kind of unexciting for dinner options, maybe its the NYU proximity. I worked on Fifth Ave. and 13th St. for a few years, and it was fine for lunch, but evening meals in a three-block radius were baffling. Fourteenth Street is lined with fast food, including Manhattans only Little Caesars. There are also plenty of mediocre Asian chains: Café Spice, Lemongrass Grill, LAnnan (Indian, Thai and Vietnamese).

I wanted to eat something inexpensive and non-bad before seeing Thumbsucker at the nearby Quad Cinema. (In the ‘90s, the façade was completely mustard yellow ‘70s and then once 2000 hit they finally gave it a remodel, which amusingly bumped it up a decade. Now its shiny, glass and metal ‘80s.) Cedar Tavern was it. Burgers, fries and beer. The cheeseburger was a prime specimen, though the limp greasy fries werent up to the same level. Of course, that didnt stop me from eating all my soggy starch strips anyway. I have the worst time turning down food.

I just remembered that I had been to Cedar Tavern once before, but I didn't eat. I went for drinks with a writing class after our last session. I was put off by how our instructor (who is clearly good at self-promotion–I see her face and byline all over the place) spent the evening sucking up to one of the young students whose father was a high powered editor. Unsurprisingly, this girl had just gotten a book deal. I've kind of soured on writing classes, if that isn't obvious enough from my stunted writing style.

Cedar Tavern * University Pl., New York, NY

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Oct 19

Mercadito Grove

I'm scared of small plates, big prices kinds of places. Neither hole-in-the-wall authentic nor burritos-and-hard-shell-tacos wrong, Mercadito is akin to La Palapa. The food is pricier, creative and surprisingly good. I was with two friends researching micheladas, and our waiter kept disparaging them and trying to get us to try margaritas. Ive heard theyre good (and more expensive, certainly) but that wasnt the point. I had to have beer cocktails. We shared a guacamole sampler with three styles: traditional, mango…hmm, and a third one I cant recall. I guess I wasnt impressed. This was supplemented by tacos with carnitas, tilapia and huitalacoche (not all together). Tiny and four to a plate, they were more satisfying than you would be led to believe. By the time we left, I'd been dubbed “Chelada” by our schmoozy waiter. I suppose there are worse thing than being called a spicy beer.

Mercadito Grove * 100 Seventh Ave. S., New York, NY

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Oct 17

Plaza Garibaldi

This was my first stop while doing <A href=>michelada research</a>, so I came across a little hesitant in ordering the spicy drink. My michelada naiveté totally got me pegged as a culinarily ignorant gringa. After we decided to stay and order food, we kept getting steered away from the things we actually wanted and pushed towards items like quesadillas. When James ordered something with chorizo and I asked for the pernil torta we were informed, “thats pork, you know.” This would be the first of two exact same warnings at Mexican restaurants that week. Where did the idea that Americans dont like pork come from? Do they think all New Yorkers are Jewish? It always weirds me out when wait staff tries talking me out of items I'm interested in, especially when the dish in question isnt particularly odd. But even if I wanted to try lambs eyeballs or guinea pigs, that would be my bad choice if I didnt end up liking it.

Plaza Garibaldi * 89-12 Roosevelt. Ave., Corona, NY

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Oct 15

Taco Chulo

Ok I didn't actually eat there, just drank a beer cocktail for research purposes. But I was with two members of their target audience: Williamsburg vegetarians, and they loved it. I guess that makes me a Carroll Gardens carnivore, though that sounds hideous.

We arrived around 10:30pm, a half hour before they stop serving food and it becomes alcohol-only. Our waiter's admonishment was highly amusing, "I want to warn you, after 11pm there's a dj. It gets very different in here." Uh, ok. So, they were playing hip hop when we were seated–what would happen 30 minutes later? Wham and Kajagoogoo is what happened. Thanks for the head's up, guy. There's nothing like music from middle school to make you feel thoroughly decrepit.

Taco Chulo * 318 Grand St., Brooklyn, NY

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Posts from the ‘NYC’ Category

Pegu Club

Public

Thomas Beisel

Taku

Renee’s Kitchenette

Chipotle

Cedar Tavern

Mercadito Grove

Plaza Garibaldi

Taco Chulo

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