Nov 7
This film is showing as part of the Margaret Mead Film & Video Festival at The American Museum of Natural History that runs from November 12-15, 2009.
1/2 
I was, and still am, more interested in the edibles at recently opened Henry Public. Cocktails are great too, but it's not as if we're suffering from a shortage of old-timey libations in this corner of Brooklyn.
But 11pm on a Friday is no time for sampling bone marrow and these so-called Wilkinsons I keep reading about (not so much the turkey leg sandwich). Too new, too crowded. Instead, I bolstered myself with some Italian salumi and cheeses at Bocca Lupo down the street first.
Almost closer in style to an early 20th century ice cream parlor than saloon, the booths—or at least the bench closer to the entrance—are also bygone era in size. James and I side-by-side were smooshed tighter than when an ample bottomed commuter wedges their way into the subway's middle seat during rush hour.
This is an Eagle's Dream (gin, lemon juice, sugar, egg white and Creme de Violette). I always order a cocktail that uses Creme de Violette, especially if it's not an Aviation (nothing wrong with the latter—I just like seeing what they can do beyond the classic). True to form, this drink was more silver-gray than the lavender I always crave based on the royal purple liqueur in the bottle. I can't wait for the new Creme d'Yvette in the works (obviously, because I just mentioned it last week).
The drink was like a muted Sweet Tart candy even down to the chalky finish, attributable to the egg white. Pleasant and breezy enough, though I switched to a more straight ahead sweet-tart option, the whisky sour, for my second glass. I do love the small, dark homemade maraschino cherries I've been encountering lately.
Henry Public * 329 Henry St., Brooklyn, NY
I’ve grown desensitized to the lackadaisical 11231 postal antics. Magazines go missing, mail ends up on the floor instead of in the box. I was left out in the cold when everyone was chattering about the final November issue of Gourmet. Who knows what never turns up.
One inconsequential result of receiving the October 22- 28 and November 5-11, 2009 copies of Time Out New York simultaneously yesterday is that Scott Bridi, lauded as a geographically ”pioneering” chef at Lot 2 in Sunset Park has already moved on.
Maybe this is this a lesson about the ephemeral nature of print. Or maybe an example of what happens when you don’t tip postal worker during the holidays.
Except me, perhaps. I almost always order alcohol when dining out (though not at lunch because I don’t work with bon vivants, plus 90% of the time I eat at my desk and only drink water or black coffee when I’m not imbibing) but it appears that I’m in the minority.
Overall, Technomic predicts alcohol sales in ”away-from-home venues” to decline 2.5% in 2010. The largest decrease will be in the fine dining channel with a 10.4% drop. The only increase will be seen in the bars and nightclubs segment, though only by 0.6%. Wine sales forecast to shrink 6.7% will suffer more than beer or spirits.
Restaurants & Institutions' "Beverage Census Study" reinforces these finding. 72% of consumers order non-alcholic drinks when dining out (thought this includes all meals and fast food where the option typically doesn’t exist). And bolstering the wine is elite, beer is for regular folks notion, Americans in households earning $75,000+ order wine 3.3 tims per week while those who make less than $20,000 only 0.4 times.
And randomly, more than one-third of Gen Y’ers order root beer.
For better or worse, uptown residents can now get their riblets closer to home. The city’s latest Applebee’s recently appeared in the new mall at Bronx Terminal Market and according to this Craigslist ad, the soon-to-open Harlem Applebee’s is hiring.
I’ve been semi-seriously toying with the idea of extricating myself from office work, though I don’t neccessarily see myself as a server, cook, dishwasher, host, bartender or expediter (all available positions). I haven’t worked food service since 1990 when I was a dough maker in a delivery-only Pizza Hut.
Then again, the ad does say, ”experience is a PLUS” not a requirement.
Did I love it? Sure. Then again, I love White Castle. No burger snoberry here.
Technically, White Manna isn't a chain because it's not affiliated with the Jersey City location with the missing N, White Mana. Close enough for me, though.
Perhaps to my detriment, I’ve never been one of those single-minded bloggers who can focus clearly on passions like pizza or hating cilantro. In this case, I’m talking about burgers, the everyman foodstuff of the moment.
Recently my attention has been drawn to Nick Solares’ New Jersey slider posts on A Hamburger Today not because I’m slider-crazed but because I’m in this part of that state, specifically Linden, at least once a month if not more getting my share of mall culture and classic late 20th century chains. And I’d never paid any mind to these still thriving (well, some of them—the Linden White Diamond closed right after I read about it) relics I drive by on a regular basis.
White Rose System in Roselle was a bust because I became inexplicably car sick on the way there and couldn’t appreciate my full-sized ketchup-heavy kaiser roll slider (slider doesn’t equal mini burger, it is specific to the griddle steaming process) and crinkle cut fries, and these places almost always serve crinkle cuts.
The following Saturday on the tail end of an unusally burger-filled week (Thursday I had a cheeseburger at Waterfront Ale House—they’ve always done right by me but on this occasion by medium-rare came out medium-well. Maybe that’s why I forget my uneaten half in the car overnight and didn’t even feel pain when I tossed it in the trash) we decided to try the no-secret-to-anyone (heck, Guy Fieri’s graced the compact red-and-silver diner with his outsize presence) White Manna in Hackensack, a little further north than my usual stomping grounds.
Two seats opened up at the counter after we arrived so we weren’t relegated to the midget seats in the window. I know Americans have grown since the ’40s, but a whole foot? This was the perfect spot for viewing the cooking procedure, which takes a little longer than you might think. Compared to McDonald’s (I was going to say White Castle to be more apples to apples but a person could go gray waiting for a combo there) this is not really fast food. It can take ten minutes for the naked balls of meat to make it from the right side of the crammed griddle to the left, potato roll on top, cheese melted, steamed through and through.
The finished product is a bit more substantial than a White Castle slider, and the meat’s texture is less baby food mushy. If you order yours to stay you add you own pickles, ketchup and/or mustard. The only off part to me were the onions, which are thinly cut rings instead of chopped bits. There’s no way to take a bite without a strand or two of onions pulling out while you try to gnaw free.
Every other fry was cooked a shade beyond golden, which was just right. There’s nothing worse than pale mealy frozen fries.
White Manna * 358 River St., Hackensack, NJ
The same week I tried P.F. Chang’s for the first time, the chain opened its first non-US location in Mexico City. It's true, I don't recall a large Chinese food presence during my week there but there’s not any particular reason why Americanized Chinese food wouldn’t succeed south of the border. They have Subway, T.G.I. Friday's and even Taco Bell (though the latter only recently returned after an unsuccessful attempt in the early '90s).
This Time magazine article's conceit that we’re so much more sophisticated about Chinese food here doesn’t ring true. According to the author, "…the bar for Chinese food is set low. In the handful of eateries that dot Mexico City's two-block Chinatown, it's common to start a meal with deep-fried wonton sticks and a hefty bowl of neon-red sweet-and-sour-sauce."
Uh, just like most US cities with small numbers of Chinese citizens, as well as much of NYC despite a good-sized Chinese population.
Mexico City’s P.F. Chang's branch manager, Iván Alvarado adds, "We have to explain a lot of things to customers at our tables because here in Mexico, we drink soda with Chinese food."
Sounds familiar. Every corner takeout joint in the city tosses in a free can of soda with a minimum order. Big city Mexicans=just like us.
Photo from TexasEscapes.com
Sripraphai is one of the few restaurants that I’ve eaten at so many times that I can detect subtle differences in dishes on each visit. I’m not that astute normally. I know some believe that the quality—and spice level—has decreased proportionately with the increasing size of room, but I don’t tend to agree. However, I did wonder how the food would translate to their random (to me, at least—maybe staff or owners live nearby? It doesn’t appear to be a Thai-heavy community either, but more Italian, middle eastern and Indian based on businesses we passed) Long Island location that had been teasing me on their homepage for what feels like a year.
So, my Halloween day plan to finally try the Red Hook Ikea that’s only 1.9 miles from my apartment was shifted at the last minute to Hicksville, just a few towns over from Williston Park, home of the brand new Sripraphai branch. Brooklyn Ikea can wait.
Yes, there was a crowd out front around 8pm, though not nearly as dense as the eaters that swarm 39th Ave. All resemblances ended there. For one, there was a parking lot adjacent to the stand alone building (we still had to street park). And more importantly, a bar with a few tall chairs on the short side near the front window that were completely open. A cocktail (ok, a Singha) while waiting for a table? How civilized. Oh, and we discovered that they also take reservations and credit cards (though the machine was broken). After only a few sips of beer a two-top became available.
The menu appears to be the same, at least the same as the relatively compact spiral bound one with small photos of nearly every single dish that was new on my last Sripraphai visit. Some of the servers were the same too. Unsurprisingly, the clientele was a little more white and suburban with way more rambunctious kids than I’m accustomed to seeing in Queens (not so, in Brooklyn). Large Chinese families were the second most represented group, which meant just about everyone was eating with chopsticks. Not a single table within eyeshot was lacking a plate of pad thai and another of fried calamari (the child-pleaser of choice, it seemed).
It wasn’t clear to me if the diners were there due to Sriphraphai’s reputation or if they just wanted to try the new Thai restaurant in their neighborhood. I would say a majority were familiar with the establishment. We got nods of approval from our server, ”very popular dish” with our orders of crispy watercress salad and chinese broccoli with crispy pork, which was unusual considering we’ve had this same waiter a million times before and he’s never acknowledged our ordering prowess.
Determined to branch out from my usual picks, I still had to glom onto a few control dishes. My initial assessment was that the crispy watercress salad was minutely different. I’m not sure if it was because I was looking for aberrations and minute tweaks would’ve slipped past me in the original location, but visually the liquid that pools at the bottom of the white plate was more orange than usual though not spicier as the color indicated. And nearly everything we ate seemed a touch saltier. The big difference was the watercress clusters. They weren’t warm, as if they’d been fried earlier, though not soggy either. If anything the batter was crunchier and more substantial. There was a lacy delicateness lacking even though the overall flavor of the salad was almost identical to the version I’ve come to love. Only a nitpicker would have a problem with any of this.
Nine times out of ten we order crispy pork with chile and basil instead of the fatty strips as a mere accent to Chinese broccoli. This is a good dish to pretend that you’re getting in some healthy greens while also getting a dose of pork skin.
I’ve never had a whole fish at Sriphraphai so this whole snapper with chile and basil was a radical departure. This is why we didn’t order our usual crispy pork; the fish became our substitute meat. You can also choose from a small or large trout. Another fried dish, obviously what I enjoy about much of this food is the contrast between crunchy and soft (the only downside being the inevitable leftovers lose any crispness). The white flesh stayed moist and the skin was wonderfully crackly and bubbled. Also, the light heat was offset by a touch of sweetness.
Though the balance was skewed with one of my favorite curries of duck, bamboo shoots and Thai eggplant. Once again, the sauce was more orange when normally this conglomerate is more swampy and served in a bowl. The flavors are usually mysterious and dark more like a deep body of water far from land, this was sunny like a tropical lagoon. I’m not saying I didn’t like this dish, but knowing the original it’s hard not to compare.
The most striking difference was the inexplicable and very fleeting likeness to the preseasoned pork tenderloins from Costco that I don’t like because they have a barely discernible pastrami flavor. This duck had a tenderloin/pastrami undercurrent that I think might be attributable to cumin. Cumin is fine when it blends into the scenery. It personally creeps me out a bit when it stands out, though. That’s just me. There is definitely a different curry paste being made (or maybe not being made in-house, which is the issue) at this location.
Thankfully, they have replicated one of my favorite aspects that you don’t always find in Thai restaurants: the refrigerated cases and metal shelves full of snacks. I also like that the desserts have glamor shots and names in the menu now, which cuts down on awkward browsing in the busiest part of the restaurant (at the original location—here, they’re off to the side). I took a plastic container of pumpkin custard squares to go and being Halloween, this parting sweet was fitting. Good as these creamy cubes are, I still felt a little deprived that I never got any fun sized candy bars on this holiday.
For being a new operation, service was efficient and good natured (though similarly harried and forgetful as the original location), and the food was still many times more enjoyable than what exists in South Brooklyn. I’m never ever in Long Island (NJ is my suburb of choice) so it’s doubtful I’ll make a comparison visit in the near future. It’s nice knowing they’re there, though.
Sriphraphai * 280 Hillside Ave., Williston Park, NY
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.
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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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