Posts from the ‘Elmhurst’ Category

Nov 25

Soup’s On: Uncle Zhou’s Spicy Beef Knife-Shaved Noodle Soup

I would like to take partial credit for spurring the brodo trend (of one, currently). I’ve long been outraged by what I call office ladies, others call basic, and their obsession with fat-free yogurt. If one were watching calorie intake and in need of a snack, broth seems so much more sensible and satisfying to me than cracking into a disgusting container of Chobani. (Based on Facebook feedback, I was alone in this, it turns out, and everyone apparently loves the flavor of fat-free dairy and it has nothing to do with weight-watching and I’m horrible and judgmental.)

Anyway, my new winter project is to start eating more soup. This is harder than it seems because soup often sounds like the least interesting thing on a menu to me. Pancita when there are tacos? Tom yum instead of crispy pork with chile and basil? It is practical, though, in my neighborhood where there’s tons of exploring to do and a dearth of dining companions. Soup’s a warming meal for one. I’m going to embrace it–and maybe it will love me back.

Yes, yes, Uncle Zhou is all about the big tray of chicken. I also had a brief Thanksgiving fantasy of ordering the $225 Four Treasures a.k.a. the Chinese turducken (quail in a squab in a chicken in a duck). You won’t suffer too greatly if you simply order the spicy beef knife-shaved noodle soup with fat, irregular squiggles of dough cut by hand rather than twisted and pulled into strands. The chile oil-enhanced broth is light and doesn’t detract from the star, which is the slick and chewy (dare me to say toothsome?) starch. The thin slices of stewed beef are more of a hearty condiment, floating along with a handful of chopped cilantro.

After burning your tongue, the soup may also sober you up pretty nicely if you’re the sort who thinks day drinking and shopping at Target is a good idea (it’s kind of not).

If you’d like, also pick a cold dish from counter like these frilly strips of tripe. Unlike Sichuan preparations, the Henan approach retains the chile heat while going easier on the oil and eschews the metallic peppercorn zing altogether.

The Mandarin-speaking couple seated next to me peppered their conversation with English phrases like “Jackson Heights,” “chicken with broccoli,” and “shrimp fried rice.” Someone, somewhere was being mocked. That will not be you slurping your noodle soup.

Uncle Zhou * 83-29 Broadway, Elmhurst, NY

Share on Tumblr

May 28

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Chinchulines, Cue, Cavatelli

Boca Juniors You'll hear about La Fusta or El Gauchito, if you hear about Queens Argentine restaurants at all. Boca Juniors, not so much, possibly because it's a theme restaurant. What kind of self-respecting food-loving Buenos Aires resident would eat at a Jets-themed steakhouse catering to American expats? No matter, it's fun, and the food is respectable enough. Have a few empanadas, order some grilled meat (if you look out of place–I did–you may get cautioned against the parrillada for two, pictured in its sweetbread, intestine and blood sausage-filled glory, but it takes little to convince that you know what you're getting into) or pasta. I have no idea staff still breaks into song and does a dance routine with blue and yellow umbrellas; on this early mid-week evening, the room was half full with most tables for two seated side-by-side at four-seaters, positioned to watch the live Boca Juniors game on the two wall-mounted flatscreens. The elderly couple in Boca jerseys splitting a bottle of wine were my heroes. Or maybe it's the Argentine house wine pours, always to the rim, that are my heroes. Inexpensive Malbec and a jumble of organ meat are made for each other.

Fatty 'Cue I only went once in its former guise and
that was three years ago so I'm hazy, but Fatty 'Cue 2.0 doesn't seem radically
different to me. The layout's more or less the same. There are cocktails, smoked
meats, funky dips, pig's ears and heads. Maybe the baos are new? There could be
more vegetables than previously. The one notable difference is that the pork
ribs, still great and salty-sweet from fish sauce and sugar, were $14 for three
last time and $12 now (the online menu says $11, but I don't think that's
correct). So, maybe lower prices? The green chili lamb bao was done more Indian
than Southeast Asian, with a tamarind sauce, yogurt and cucumber. Winsome. The
whole steamed fish, the only non-meaty large plate, seems an odd choice in
retrospect. The components were straightforward, turmeric and lime rubbed onto
the fish itself, with chile sauce and ketchup manis for dipping. No complaints,
but I would stick with the meat.

Aita I think I said I would never go here, not out
of malice, but because I eat Italian food so rarely. After 10pm on a weeknight,
though, the dining choices in an immediate two-block radius after a few
Manhattans at Mayflower, are slim. The fried rabbit in the style of fried
chicken with a lot more sage, was fun, if not bony. Something possessed me to
order wheat pasta, cavatelli, with a lamb ragu and favas, not completely out of
whack with this still-cool-at-night spring (that's not a complaint, and no,
it's still not summer, Memorial Day over or not). If you want to continue with
the rye-drinking, the cocktail list isn't bad.

Share on Tumblr

Jan 22

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Cold-Fighting

Taste Good Malaysian There are many directions you
can go if you're a spicy soup to ward off a cold type: soondubu jjigae, hotpot,
menudo (for some reason tom yum doesn't appeal) or Singapore laksa, a.k.a.
laksa lemak, the rich coconutty style. Somehow the combination of heat and
creaminess just makes sense for a sore throat. Elmhurst's Taste Good Malaysian
is as good as anywhere to get a fix. Their version filled with bean curd puffs,
half a hardboiled egg, chicken shreds, a few small shrimp, fish cakes, bean
sprouts and fat, round translucent noodles is a meal in itself (always a
problem because it's too filling to allow for any rendang, nasi lemak or sambal
shrimp) though a shared roti canai and popiah won't hurt. I only regret having waved off the scrappy gentleman trying to sell a
bottle of Robitussin in front of the Queens Adult Care Center on the walk to
the restaurant because I'm still sick (the laksa didn't work, but it was tasty)
and too beat to walk the eight blocks to the nearest drug store.

Die Koelner Bierhalle The Park Slope beer hall with
a surprising amount of seating (communal, of course) is more for drinking and
sporting, though a simple bratwurst and big plate of spaetzle and speck (not
pictured) are fitting winter accompaniments. Just don't try to order the bauernwurst
or you'll be steered away with "Nobody orders it. We're removing it from
the menu." What's wrong with the bauernwurst?

Blaue Gans You could also get a bratwurst here (no
bauernwurst, sorry) but it will be $7 more than in Park Slope. While relatively
casual, Blaue Gans is still more of a sit-down affair. If you order the blood
sausage, you might be asked if you've had it before. (Do you see a trend
forming? During three recent meals–including Qi Grill, not mentioned here–I
was essentially told that I didn't really want what I said I wanted, which
makes me testy.) Or maybe the server just meant it's not presented in cased
sausage form, but loose and molded into a circle. No one warned me away from
the calves liver with apples and bacon, thankfully.

Cafecito Bogota If you find yourself in upper
Greenpoint on Sunday during dreaded brunch time, you could do worse than an a
la carte arepa (though feel free to order the $16.99 three-drink with food special
if you're into mucho mimosas, sangria or refajo, an unseemly blend of Colombian
beer and cream soda–they weren't able to make a bloody mary). The Cartegena
comes with a big mound of scrambled eggs, shrimp and cilantro.

Hudson Yards Cafe This might be the most inoffensive lunch place closest
to the Javits Center. Never mind that all the
other badge-wearers (you've taken yours off, of course) are drinking iced tea
and Diet Coke. Stick to your guns and down two pints of Stella with your
fontina (spelled fontana) and prosciutto panini; it'll endear the older bartender who's also midday tippling to you. If you're a certain age being referred to as a "good girl" isn't offensive.

Taco Chulo I don't normally eat restaurant
breakfasts (despite contrary evidence above) especially not on weekdays, but I
had time to kill before looking at a nearby apartment (I didn't realize how
many area restaurants are dinner-only) and rajas hash with chorizo was right on,
greasy and yolky with a bit of heat. Of course when I showed up to the
apartment on time, a twentysomething couple was also waiting even though their
appointment was a half-hour after mine and so I was forced to look at their
out-of-my-budget apartments with them (and vice versa). Why kill time, waiting
your turn when you can just be a twentysomething in Williamsburg?

Share on Tumblr

Nov 5

Chao Thai Too & Zabb Elee

Chao Thai Too and Zabb Elee are both Queens Isaan
offshoots. Not so long ago, Chao Thai spawned a second larger location in
Elmhurst while last year Zabb Elee made the leap all the way from Jackson Heights
to the East Village. Both are far better than average.

Chao Thai has always been my favorite Sripraphai
alternative (Ayada is in that pantheon too, but I'm less fanatical about them
then others) even though there's that one server who's smarmy about not giving
you the requested spice level. I was hoping he'd remain stationed at the
original, but there he was at the highly staffed Too (though oddly, not taking
orders).

The menu is bigger and now formally includes a lot
of the dishes that used to be on hand-written scraps of paper taped around the
room. At the old Chao Thai their take on the crispy watercress/morning glory
salad was always mysteriously unavailable even though always on the wall. Now,
here it is, massive with crisp greens on the right, soft shrimp, squid and mussels
on the left. The coating on the greens here is puffier like a beer batter, the
cashews are crushed instead of whole and the shredded green mango was
unexpected altogether. I like all salads of this ilk, but always compare them
to Sripraphai's, which could be a mess, but is one I encountered first and
always prefer.

Portions are generous, and in this case the crispy
pork dominated the green beans. I think they just gave us all the remaining pork
bits in this rich pad prik khing because it was getting late. The table that
arrived after ours looked at our plate and gave us dirty looks (no hyperbole)
after being told they were out of pork belly.

I'm not convinced this was pad kee mao. I would've
sworn it was pad thai, but it was darker than the pad thai on others' plates
and there weren't any peanuts in it. More sweet than hot and with those skinny
rice noodles, it was the oddball of the evening.

Crunchy fried catfish rounds with Thai apple
eggplant and bamboo shoots, on the other hand, was the biggest hit. Bony and
crazy hot with lots of bitter krachai, it's not as accessible a dish as some of
the others. Whole fish preparations are easier to love, but the catfish hunks
have a snackable quality I enjoy.

In some ways Zabb Elee's existence is more welcome
because Queens is already rife with good Thai and the East Village isn't
(sadly, my new Clinton Hill Thai situation may be even worse than in Carroll
Gardens–and no, Pok Pok isn't in Carroll Gardens [or Red Hook]).

And it's highly unique. The number of papaya salads,
alone, is impressive, and with combinations I've never encountered elsewhere. See
my new entry about som tum kortmuar (green papaya, pork cracklings, Thai sausage,
eggplant, fried fish and noodles) on Real Cheap Eats.

The brightly flavored duck larb included varying textures
of the roughly chopped meat, itself, as well as crispy bits of skin that were
mixed in. They may not initially believe you if you say you want your food hot,
but they will oblige if you insist you can handle a four (out of five). A five
is probably brutal.

Chao Thai Too * 83-47 Dongan Ave., Elmhurst, NY

Zabb Elee * 75 Second Ave., New York, NY

Share on Tumblr

Apr 5

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Not In My Backyard

Recette As payback for picking me up a handful of Jason Wu for Target items in New Jersey on Superbowl Sunday, I vowed to treat to a friend to a fancy dinner (I owed her $150) but not like Per Se or Eleven Madison Park fancy. I don't really hear much about Recette, and hate to imply that the creative (and yeah, a little pricey) West Village restaurant isn't worth discussing in greater detail, but this was a case of eating, drinking, talking, hanging out without over-thinking everything on the plate, an approach to dining I've been embracing more lately. I did still take photos of the five-course tasting, however, so peek if you wish. For nearly each course we were given two different dishes, so the variety was great.

PINK GRAPEFRUIT MARGARITA, Hornitos Añejo, Fresh Pink Grapefruit, Lime Juice, Espelette/KUMQUAT OLD FASHIONED, Bulleit Bourbon, Poached Kumquats, Blueberry Bitters/Uni amuse

BEEF CARPACCIO, Burrata, Tomato Jam, Porcini Purée, Basil, Watercress/MARINATED ARCTIC CHAR, Oyster, Crunchy Salad, Bonito Broth, Bottarga

GRILLED PULPO, Black Garlic, Olive Oil, Lemon, Fennel/"ONION SOUP", Onion Espuma, Oxtail, Gruyere, Consommé

BLACK BASS, Potato Gnocchi, Pancetta, Roasted Salsify, Seafood Nage/ROASTED SCALLOPS, Artichokes, Thumbelina Carrots, Caviar Beurre Blanc

ROASTED FLUKE, Shellfish "Congee", Leeks, Sauce Bouillabaisse/BERKSHIRE PORK BELLY, Rock Shrimp, Turnips, Romesco, Sherry Caramel

a pre-dessert (the banana chocolate real dessert photo didn't turn out)/"SMORES", Graham Cracker Ice Cream, Toasted Marshmallow, "Hot" Chocolate Ganache

Ox Cart Tavern As an experiment, I traveled from my office to Ditmas Park during a Friday evening rush hour. 4/5 at Bowling Green to B/Q at Atlantic Ave. to Newkirk Ave. Forty-five minutes wasn't so bad considering it frequently takes me 40 minutes going four stops from Carroll Gardens (it certainly did this morning) even though no one believes me. My potential new neighborhood livability test doesn't take dining into account, though, because Ditmas Park couldn't win on that count. There are like two young people bars (I investigated a third for old-timers and almost got my iPhone stolen by one of the many middle-aged–truly middle-aged, not 40–alcoholic women) and four restaurants. But really, it's doubtful I'll go to Momofuku Milk Bar or whatever new thing opens this week anytime soon (I am interested in La Vara) but there is something comforting about knowing they're there just in case. No matter, we have a car and always go out of the neighborhood to eat and drink on weekends anyway, and would do so on weeknights if we had a garage and driveway to come back to, which we would in Ditmas Park. Ox Cart Tavern is the kind of place that has Sixpoint Sweet Action in cans, sloppy duck sliders, lots of small children on the early side and waits for tables as the night progresses. It's average, but the disproportionate ratio of potential diners to seats implies the neighborhood is restaurant-starved.

La Fusta Like I said, weekends aren't spend dining around Carroll Gardens. We wanted steak and to try St. Anselm, but Williamsburg on a Saturday night didn't seem wise (unless you're going someplace non-hyped like Taco Chulo where I went the previous Saturday and there was still a wait). Argentine parrillada is nothing like St. Anselm, I imagine, but you do get some offal and weird bits (no goat head and hearts, sadly) when you order the mixed grill. The skirt steak and Korean-cut ribs are good, but I genuinely love the creamy and chewy intestines sitting on top of the pile of meat and the mushy morcilla buried beneath (I get all the blood sausage in exchange for giving up the not-that-exciting-to-me chorizo that is more similar in flavor to a breakfast sausage) and not just to show off. The intestines are nearly like those rolled wafer cookies you find at Asian grocers filled with chocolate or pandan, but I probably don't want to know what makes-up the meaty interior stuffing–it's certainly not shortening and sugar. Previously on La Fusta.

Taco Chulo Hey, it's better than San Loco.

Share on Tumblr

Mar 22

Ayada

Restaurant-wise, I’m usually drawn in by the new or new-to-me, the exception being Thai food where branching out only leads to tears—and not of the spice-induced variety. I remain a Sripraphai stalwart with the occasional side-trip to Chao Thai during peak Sripraphai hours, and that’s it.

Because I’m distrustful–I've been burned before!–I’ve ignored rumblings for at least a year now that Ayada is another Queens contender. I finally gave in. And it was completely worth it. Though, it’s not exactly like the Elmhurst restaurant is a secret with the Sripraphai Saturday night crowd-avoiders like myself. I’ve never not gotten a table at Chao Thai, which is about a third of the size of not-that-big-either Ayada, so I figured It would be safe. Not so; we still had to wait for a perfectly bearable 15 minutes, and the bench out front leads me to believe this is not unusual.

The food was not a disappointment. In fact, it was much better than I had expected it to be and the heat level was appropriately "Thai spicy" when asked for, despite the presence of wine-toters (and the spice-ruiners are always wine-toters. Yes, I love that there's a vast selection of Riesling at Lotus of Siam, but there’s something that always rankles me off about byob oenophiles at restaurants like this and particularly New York Noodle Town) who made the point of telling the waitress after testing their food that they should’ve ordered medium. Shush, you are ruining it for the rest of us! At least they didn’t ask for chopsticks or brown rice.

The only thing is that Ayada knows it is good, and the service is upbeat and helpful (unlike the guy we call "The Tool" at Chao Thai who plays gotcha bt getting you to admit you like the spice level and then tells you that it's lower than what you asked for). I prefer coy and aloof. They cite all of the dishes on the menu that were mentioned in The New York Times review and the hits seemed to be priced accordingly. Or maybe I’m just sore because those dishes were the ones I wanted anyway and I hate looking like a follower.

I balked a bit at the $15 price of their answer to Sriprahai’s crispy Chinese watercress salad (and one of my favorite dishes anywhere period). Five dollars more does buy you a larger portion. This rendition could easily be split among four. All the contrasting textures and sweetened lime dressing bursting with heat that I’m used to were there. The main difference between this version and Sri’s is the addition of grape tomatoes, ground chicken and that the watercress, itself, is battered lightly and fried in unwieldy hard-to-separate bunches. You almost need a knife to portion it.

Fatty, crisp-skinned pork belly nuggets need to be on a Thai menu to win my heart (never mind my blood vessels) and this pad kra prow version, heavier on the sliced chiles than basil, was irresistible.

Continuing the rich and crackly-skinned theme, the panang curry with duck was also a good choice, if slightly salty. Served with the dark, tender meat as the focal point and sauce to be doled out as needed, this was, well, a classy curry.

We didn’t hit any duds with our Ayada trial run. The food is comparable to Chao Thai and wins with ambience. This is where you would want to go on a date or bring your parents, and yes, tote your bottle of wine. Chao Thai is where you grab takeout or dine-in without lingering and sip a glass of coconut juice. I would return to either depending on what I needed. I’d still like to try Ayada’s mysterious black egg dish, salted crab with mango and tom zap Cornish hen soup.

Ayada * 78-03 Woodside Ave., Elmhurst, NY

Share on Tumblr

Oct 12

La Fusta

While rustling up dishes around town made with blood for a future article, I kept thinking about morcilla, then how I would love to return to Buenos Aires and eat monstrous amounts of beef. That’s not likely to happen in the immediate future. I went as far as checking airfare (also, it’s the only city I’m aware of with a hotel bearing my name, so that gives them an edge) but in the end, I turned to La Fusta, one of a handful of Argentine steakhouses in Queens.

I got my morcilla, a particularly messy and gooey specimen with chewy ribbons spilling from the casing after being cut open. This would not be the blood sausage to covert the squeamish. (Also, I’m still mastering the focus on this point-and-shoot, which is trickier to use than my usual dSLR. I’ve been testing it out at low-risk restaurants and not completely succeeding.)

A little garlic-heavy chimichurri certainly perks up any heavy, meaty item, though.

The half order of skirt steak was big enough to be a full serving and a bargain at $15.50. “You’ll have the mashed potatoes?” prodded our server. No, just the standard French fries.

He then cajoled James, who’d gone with the Italian part of the menu, ordering a veal parmigiana/milanesa napolitana (not sure why the geography changes in Spanish) covered in possibly an entire ball of melted mozzarella. “Linguine?” I liked that the server had such strong ideas about sides…even if I didn’t follow his suggestion.

As if that weren’t enough cheese, we also started with a proveleta, which is a grilled round of provolone. In Argentina, they always held their shape. Here, this wedge seasoned with oregano and olive oil, had oozed and crusted into a giant frico.

And a La Fusta salad to pretend we were eating a balanced meal. Of course, there were chunks of ham and cheese in this, as well as anchovies, which we were needlessly warned about.

It’s rare to end up on Roosevelt Avenue not craving Southeast Asian or Latino food. I rarely stray beyond a Donovan’s burger. But it’s good to have Argentine restaurants (yet another cuisine lacking in Brooklyn for no good reason) as an option.

La Fusta * 8032 Baxter Ave., Elmhurst, NY

Share on Tumblr

Sep 28

Taste Good

1/2 Sometimes you need distance to see the silliness in food debates. It’s doubtful that anyone outside NYC cares about who serves the best fried chicken (though to be fair that’s more of a discussion than a debate, and a fun one). And I can say with 100% certainty that the average American has no idea what Ampang yong tau foo is, let alone whether it’s Singaporean or Malaysian. But Malaysia is all cranky over Singapore’s successful food branding (at least in the region—once again, I think they may be overestimating a worldwide perception that Singapore is a culinary destination) and are trying to play catch up.

As a Westerner who’s been to both Singapore and Malaysia, I know a very obvious way that Malaysia could differentiate themselves and appeal to global foodies: artisanal cred. Coconut milk squeezed from the flesh the not a can, cendol colored green with pandan not dye, curries from freshly pounded rempahs not packaged pastes, satay grilled over charcoal not gas. Slow food, Southeast Asian-style.

The only real effect this article had on me, though, was the need for a bowl of laksa. Lemak, a.k.a. Singaporean-style, I’m afraid. I just don’t trust that they’re going to get assam version right here. Copious amounts of coconut milk can mask more ills than sour fishy broth.

The version at Elmhurst’s Taste Good was better than I had expected. I say that because in Malaysia, as in many countries, street food is specialized and often kept to a handful of choices. How can a menu with hundreds of offerings all be good? And Taste Good uses the term laksa very loosely with a list of 35 dishes beneath that heading that include Hong Kong-style beef noodle soup, Hokkien mee, tom yum mee hoon, and both curry and assam laksas. All over the place.

The Singapore kari laksa, in their parlance, was creamy with enough spice to cut through the richness and contained nice fat rice noodles. The menu gives no hint what the toppings might be, and there was a surprising hodgepodge: small shrimp, half a hard boiled egg, shredded chicken, slices of fish cake, bean sprouts and my favorite, fried bean curd puffs. These spongy squares absorb the broth and dispense a mouthful when you bite into them. The only thing missing was sambal and lime wedges.

Rojak is dressed with an eerily dark sauce of sweetened, tangy prawn paste. I love it but I know many who can’t stand the smell of belacan. A woman, who appeared to be in charge, was asking a non-Malaysian Asian diner, “Doesn’t the smell bother you?” Apparently, it didn’t. Love or hate, no one is neutral on the smell of roasted shrimp paste.

Hiding under all the black goo topped with sesame seeds were jicama, pineapple, cuttlefish, cucumber, chopped peanuts and chunks of crueler. After sitting awhile, the fried dough performs the opposite function of the tasty bean curd in the laksa. I drunkenly picked at leftover rojak that evening and almost choked on all of the pungent sauce that oozed from the now mushy and disintegrating cruelers.

I’ve never heard of dry curry beef rendang noodles but here they are. Rendang seems more suited to rice, if you ask me.

For NYC Malaysian food with a Chinese bent, I was satisfied by Taste Good. Purists, I’m sure would find details to nitpick.

Taste Good * 82-18 45th Ave., Elmhurst, NY

Share on Tumblr

May 7

Boca Juniors

1/2 Ok, I thought the scantily clad waitresses/tiki bar combo at Listo el Pollo was surreal but Boca Juniors is downright nutty. I’ve driven (well, been the passenger) past this color crayon bright corner a million times on the way to Target, and only recently did I get the urge to pay a visit.

You know with Argentine (or Argentinean—both are correct and it drives me crazy that there’s no definitive term) restaurants that you’re going to be eating meat and lots of it. With that in mind, you have to be in the mood and I’m only up for a serious parrillada maybe every couple months. My last foray was Buenos Aires in the East Village back when it was icy out. Now it’s warm enough for a new South American carnivorous adventure.

Well, it turned out the food, while surprisingly good, is hardly the focal point. It helps if you know that Boca Juniors are a wildly popular Argentine soccer team and that this is essentially a theme steakhouse. They’ve taken the team’s blue and yellow color scheme to new levels and every square inch of the restaurant including the plates, napkins, walls, carpets as well as the waitstaffs’ shiny track suits. I was most impressed by the mulleted visage, which I’m guessing belongs to a prominent player (I don’t even know my Mets and Yankees so recognition was futile) etched into the windows.

We felt we needed to squeeze some vegetables into our meal so we went with potatoes and eggplant, laced with mayonnaise and olive oil respectively. Healthy. Berenjena y ensalada rusa, to be precise. The Italian influence I’m aware of, the Russian bit not so much though “Russian salads” seem to make an appearance in widely diverse cuisine.

I’m the only one who’ll eat blood sausage and strangely, I’m not fond of regular pork sausage. So, both dark tubes are mine and James gets the other two. I couldn’t even finish a whole one, though. You don’t always get intestines so that was a chewy surprise. After eating a couple of those, a few bites of sweetbreads and the strip of steak, I was done in. Just a steak would’ve been fine but I like picking at the odd bits, just not enough to order an entire plate of them. I made a slightly overpowering chimichurri the following night to eat the leftovers with. I was trying to be light-handed with the olive oil but the garlic does need tempering.

I didn’t realize the panqueque would be crepes, despite the word pancake implying as much. The layer cake from San Antonio Bakery (I know, Chilean not Argentine) is called pancake and filled with dulce de leche and that’s what I was thinking of. But the crepes were pretty amazing because they were also sprinkled with granulated sugar and broiled, creating a crispy crème brule style effect.

We were about to leave when the lights dimmed and most employees began gathering in the back near the bar with enormous blue and yellow umbrellas. I was like oh, it must be a birthday. Then the giant blue and yellow umbrellas came out. WTF? Staccato music was flipped on that could only be described as a fight song. With the exception of one diner who looked angry and disgusted by the disruption, many were clapping or waving napkins. Umbrella twirlers began parading between the tables, half-size soccer balls were given to kids. For pointless noise and excitement (yet, sadly no ice cream—though they did have a dessert called Don Pedro, which I think was something icy topped with brandy) it certainly beats Farrell’s. Plus, you can’t eat intestines at Farrell’s.

Boca Juniors * 8108 Queens Blvd., Elmhurst, NY

Share on Tumblr

Feb 24

Chao Thai

Read my Nymag.com review.

Phew, I was finally able to squeeze in some non-Latin food (I was getting a little plaintained-out). Thai is my go-to happy cuisine (I really want to delve into Korean food because what I know of it I like but I just can’t figure out where to jump in. I need to find a place that wouldn’t be intimidating to newcomers but goes beyond basic kalbi and bibimbob) but there was no way I was going to attempt Sripraphai on a Friday night. I’d only been once before but recalled tiny Chao Thai having serious potential.
There was an empty table amongst the five or so on offer (unfortunately, it was closest to the frequently opened front door. Even though they had a space heater whirring, by the end of our meal we were practically frost bitten from our knees down) so it started well. It didn’t kill me but I was freaked out the vanilla scented Glade candle sitting in front of me, next to the napkin dispenser. James loves those artificial smelly things so I kept sticking it on his side of the table and he’d torment me my putting it back in its original spot. I find air fresheners to be headache-inducing, I’d much rather smell fried fish, cigarette smoke, wet dogs (ok, maybe not the canines) and the like. Luckily, this was low on the offensive scale. If it were one of those Thomas Kinkade monstrosities (two of which reside in my home), I might’ve lost my shit.
I was immediately agog over a dish on the specials list called Three Buddies Crispy Salad. They already had me at crispy because I can’t resist that fatty style of pork coming from any ethnicity. But buddies? That was the cutest thing I’d ever heard. I’m not sure what the three edible pals were exactly. The pig and the fish were the only two living components—could they be buddies with vegetables? The ingredients were fish maw, crispy pork, cashews, red onions and kind of Chinesey scallions and celery leaves. There weren’t expected herbs like mint of cilantro, though the dressing was explosively Thai with roughly chopped orange, green and red bird chiles peeping out from the pile of mysterious buddies.
A basil chile duck we ordered was also very Chinese in flavor, with a prominent star anise perfume. We had pad prik king with chicken (I got irked over James ordering a second poultry dish, but the other two items were my doing so I had to relent control, plus it was good).
It’s easy to forget about Chao Thai, and if you’re on that stretch of Whitney Avenue you might be tempted to try one of the two Indonesian restaurants across the street instead. But it’s worth a stop. The food is way better than typical Ameri-Thai, very close to Sripraphai’s caliber with a lot of different dishes. I gave it 2 1/2 shovels last time and I'm nearly inclined to bump that to 3 (if you haven't already noticed, my shovels tend to be fairly arbitrary). My only complaint would be no dessert case. Just like last time I picked up some galub jamun from Bappy Sweets up the street. Buddies and Bappy are a great combo. (2/23/07)

Posts from the ‘Elmhurst’ Category

Soup’s On: Uncle Zhou’s Spicy Beef Knife-Shaved Noodle Soup

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Chinchulines, Cue, Cavatelli

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Cold-Fighting

Chao Thai Too & Zabb Elee

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Not In My Backyard

Ayada

La Fusta

Taste Good

Boca Juniors

Chao Thai

Featured

Occasional Instagramming

Yes, it’s come to this

My Other Blogs

What?

The Past Will Haunt You

Pigeonholing 101