Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Apr 21

Royale

Ideally, I wanted a burger in the financial district or lower east side because that’s the easiest foot and subway-wise, but everything I kept stumbling on was East Village focused: Back Forty, Seymour Burton or Royale. I feel weird ordering a burger in a 20+ entrée place so it was no to Seymour Burton, plus I can’t abide by the English muffin in lieu of bun. A coworker had been raving about the burger at Back Forty but I didn’t want to think about organics or what wine to pair with the damn thing. I just wanted a no nonsense, completely satisfying burger and a pint of beer. Simple. And that was totally Royale.

It’s wise to believe the sandwich board outside proclaiming, “The best burger in NYC.” The hand-scrawled statement was bolstered by every eating patron inside the unassuming-rather-than-divey bar on Ave. C having one in front of them. I can’t even imagine what kind of freak would opt for chicken fingers or the B.L.T.

This is an untouched medium-rare burger with American cheese. Despite saying English muffins put me off, a slightly sweet, firm enough brioche is fine. This bun held up until the very end when the juices finally started dissolving the bread. But that was my own fault because I let my last third sit for a while. I wanted a second beer (Blue Moon, if that makes any difference) but to drink with my remaining food not simply for drinking's sake and well, the service is on the sluggish side and the wet bun became impatient (not me, of course, I'm always wildly patient).

The medium-rare cleaved closer to rare, nice and pink, which I appreciated for keeping all the fattiness and moistness intact.

A messy cross-section with bacon.

Thin, light and crisp onion rings were a smart choice to share because I was fine with only a few. Fries, even bad fries, won’t last long in my vicinity and since I’ve unwillingly avoided potatoes for the last few months I might go wild. The only downside is that there was a substantial pool of oil in the bottom of the basket, which threatened to sog up the delicate rings.

Royale * 157 Ave. C, New York, NY

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Apr 1

Momofuku Ko

I’m neutral on David Chang, no hate, no love. I’m naturally turned off by hype, though. Obviously, or I would’ve eaten at Momofuku Ssam in the evening by now but I just can’t be bothered.

I was kind of fascinated by all the Ko hoopla and the gone in sixty seconds reservations game didn’t even bother me. At least it’s democratic, if not glitchy. And trying to score a spot did get me to work at 9:55 instead of 10:05 for a week. Um, and today post-Momofuku Ko I didn’t even make it into the office.

I do wonder if the newness has already worn off. On my way to the East Village for pre-dinner drinks (a few shots of Maker’s Mark at Otto’s, which was probably a mistake. Not the tiki bar so much as over-imbibing. But I’d been home alone all weekend and by 7pm on Sunday I was antsy and bored out of my mind) I received a call presumably from a hostess asking if I’d prefer an 8:45 to my 9:15. Sure, why not.

Tipsy and running late, my friend Sherri and I completely missed the extremely subtle entrance, marked with the signature peach but obscured by metal latticework, and had to pop into the noodle bar a few storefronts down for directions. Normally, I’m anal about addresses and luckily, this was the only misstep of the evening.

Well, and maybe ordering a bottle of the private label sake. I wasn’t feeling flush enough to spring for the wine pairings ($50) but we didn’t realize the bottle was going to be so large. Those little juice glasses start adding up and next thing you know you’ve forgotten half the things you just ate. Thank goodness for photos and the internet.

By now you’ve already seen a cavalcade of photos and descriptions, but that’s never stopped me from adding my Johnny-come-lately perspective before.

Pork Rinds with Togarashi Pepper

I’ll concede that the cracklings were better than the over-salted puffs you normally buy in a bag. Very light and airy but gone in seconds.

English Muffins with Pork Fat, Sea Salt and Chives

Hmm…I couldn’t determine if the rolls at Allen & Delancey were amazing or if I’m just bread deprived. I know now that they were amazing because these mini muffins were certainly good but they didn’t bowl me over. The pork fat could’ve been more assertive. Maybe my taste buds had been dulled but I expected a richer more unctuous flavor.

Fluke Sashimi with Spicy Buttermilk and Chives

I’ve been on a sashimi kick recently so this was fun. The creamy chile-spiked sauce was a welcome diversion from soy sauce and wasabi, and I would never think of adding poppy seeds into the mix. Yes, more chives.

Kimchi Consomme with Beau Soleil Oyster, Pork Belly and Braised Cabbage

The kimchi was so mild that I forgot it was a component of the broth until looking at other's photos. I think the food could remain refined and still punch up the spice a bit. I hate the word luscious (I promise never to say succulent) but the soft, barely fatty pork belly definitely was. I also like shellfish paired with pork, which I usually associate with Portuguese food. There’s definitely nothing Iberian about this presentation, though. The pork-seafood combo definitely seems to be a recurring Chang touch.

Coddled Egg with Hackleback Caviar, Onion Soubise, Potato Chips and Chervil

I notice other reviews mentioning osetra, but I’m fairly certain this was hackleback (or was it paddlefish?). I also notice sous vide coming up in conjunction with this dish but I don’t think anything was cooked in that manner. Perhaps soubise, a slow cooking process in butter that enhances sweetness, sounds like sous vide? A printed menu would be appreciated by introverted freaks like me who need to know every little detail but hate to be all pretentious and chit chat aloud about every minute ingredient. No matter, this was very luxurious and the sliver-thin crispy potatoes added nice contrast to the softness of both chicken and fish eggs, and I don't even like potato chips.

Scallops with Nori and Bacon Dashi

I can’t remember what the white swipe is to save my life and I even asked. I also don’t see this exact dish on any blogs so I can’t jog my memory that way. The porky broth and sweet scallops complemented each other. The seaweed was a little chompy.

Shaved Foie Gras with Lychees and Wine Gelee

This was the nuttiest dish by far, and by nutty I mean creative and unexpected. All you can see in this shot is a pile of fluff that’s actually shaved foie gras. It totally does melt in your mouth but that’s one of the foulest metaphors in world history. The liquid underneath softens the shavings into a mousse-like consistency. The sweet perfumey squishiness of the lychees didn’t seem like a perfect match for the liver but I did like eating this.

Deep-Fried Short Rib with Pickled Carrots, Daikon with Mustard Seeds and Grilled Scallion

Throughout the meal I was transfixed on hunks of meat getting deep fried (they were using the same deep fryer that I own) and sliced into thirds and wondering when this decadence would come our way. The proportion of crispy exterior to rare insides was wonderful. I now resolve to deep fry meat more often. The mustard seeds weren’t overwhelming at all. And you kind of have to love all the bright colors—they felt kind of Uniqlo and the pickling punched up what could've been an overly rich dish.

Grilled Rice Cake on Pickled Turnips and Cabbage with Miso Soup

I ended up dunking my rice cylinder into the soup, which caused it to fall apart. That probably wasn’t the optimal eating style. My powers of observation were long shot by this point but this seemed like one of the tamer courses, simple and soothing. I would've been fine with skipping this course and going straight to the sweet.

Pineapple Sorbet with Dried Pineapple

The transitional palate cleanser of double pineapple. It's not very often that I get excited by sorbet, and this was no exception. Sure, it was fruity and cold with some concentrated chewy bits but I was looking forward to the apple pie.

Fried Apple Pie with Sour Ice Cream and Toasted Miso

Ah, wake up call. I remember the cool mouth-freezing sensation more than the fruity taste. This is where I freaked out. Not because of the food (though I will say the sour cream was a distinct touch) but because of the music. I couldn’t concentrate on my apple pie because They Might Be Giants's, “Ana Ng” was making me laugh. It was an accumulation of the entire evening’s soundtrack enhanced by too much sake. Rush, Luna and the Stone Roses didn’t throw me into fits as much, though.

The song that really pushed me over the edge was “Take the Skinheads Bowling.” I’ve never felt more thirtysomething in my entire life. I didn’t feel sad and nostalgic (my default state of mind) but rather kind of incredulous and peaceful (which was short lived since I started a fight when I got home).

In the ‘80s I wouldn’t be able to fathom sitting on a stool in NYC spending over $100 on dinner while listening to Camper Van Beethoven. But then, as a teen I had zero idea what the future might be like so nothing would surprise me. As a senior in high school I used to joke with my sister whenever seeing then strange and new, space age-seeming minivans, “wow, it is the ‘90s.”

Inventive tasting menus paired with the sweet strains of decades-old college rock is the ‘00s.

Momofuku Ko * 163 First Ave., New York, NY

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Mar 31

Allen & Delancey

Allen & Delancey was the site of a belated birthday dinner. Dining four days past the actual celebration was my only choice even with three-weeks lead time unless I wanted to eat at 6pm, which I didn’t. Not a big deal since Wednesday nights are preferable to Saturdays, anyway. Generally speaking, you don’t want your table two-inches from the types of crowds that descend on popular restaurants on weekends.

The cranky suburbanite in me hates being smooshed, and by the luck of the draw we ended up with a no-neighbors two-top. Sure, actually obtaining our reserved table required nursing an elderflower Prosecco cocktail, The Delancey, for a non-egregious spell. It’s strange that the room seems so empty in this photo taken around 10:30pm since the candlelit (the bane of my photo-snapping existence) urban-boho space (I refuse to say speakeasy) was at capacity when we showed up.

There’s something about the moody velvet-curtained frippery that gives off a decadent aura, yet the food is more straightforward and restrained compared to much of what’s currently in vogue. Uptown goes downtown, but not like LuAnn, The Countess from The Real Wives of New York City getting tipsy on margaritas at Little Giant and showing up with her 23-year-old hippie headbanded neice at Cakeshop. No, it’s substantive and doesn’t embarrass you.

Caramelized Bone Marrow, Caviar, Shallot Puree.

I mean, appetizers ranging into the $20s is certainly decadent. I tend to balk when my starter’s price is indistinguishable from my entrée. But I wanted the freaking bone marrow and caviar, $21 or not (hey, that Google adsense payout and all—I’m totally an internet tycoon).

And I’m glad I ordered it. Eating bone marrow loose rather than scooped from the bone is kind of like eating mussels freed from their shells, no work and kind of obscene. But the saline caviar mixed with the fatty meat essence was perfect with char-grilled toast. This dish managed to taste supremely beefy though you’d never guess it by looking at it.

I’m not sure if I’m just bread deprived or if the rolls were completely amazing (I took a horrible photo I can’t include). I’m sick to death of fibrous multigrain bread and Wasa crackers; sometimes you just want a warm, crusty, yeasty starch bomb slathered with 80 percent-plus butterfat butter.

Some menu descriptions were more illustrative than others. I was curious about the starkly described Cabbage, Beef, Onion because you know it’s going to be cool (and I love corned beef and cabbage) but that’s the type of thing I wouldn’t take a chance on unless someone else was paying.

Tasmanian Sea Trout, almond cream, haricot vert, parma ham gastrique.

As often happens, I was intrigued by the sides so I opted for the trout even though I’m blasé on the fish. I don’t dislike fish in a ew, seafood way, but more of a ew, dull way. Fish tends to be too delicate for my liking,

However, this sea trout was awesome. pink and rich like salmon with a crackly exterior (crisp skin does it every time) The strange thing was that I’d forgotten that the menu said almonds and thought the sauce was creamed peanuts. Peanuts seemed very wrong but as soon as I adjusted my brain back to almonds it tasted correct. The vinegar in the beans helped cut the oil and nuttiness. I’ll admit that I didn’t notice the ham, though.

Chocolate Peanut Butter Tart, Malted Milk Sorbet, Whiskey Vanilla Shake.

I wouldn’t have chosen the peanut butter and chocolate dessert (I wanted the carrot cake thing, which I’m sure wasn’t a simple square of cake with cream cheese frosting) but it wasn’t up to me since it wasn’t my birthday dinner and ordering my own just didn’t seem smart. I was surprised at all of the women with their own desserts (I thought ladies only ate cupcakes) and the same one we chose. I usually share or shun altogether, which has little to do with caloric corncerns or out of control blood sugar (my blood is sweet enough, thanks). I just don’t always feel like a chocolatey barrage after a substantial meal. But I was thankful for something warm, cocoa-laden and gooey that wasn’t a molten cake.

Allen & Delancey * 115 Allen St., New York, NY

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Mar 4

Gramercy Tavern

1/2 One of the things I was most struck by while my sister, Melissa, and her husband were visiting from England recently was how impressed they were with the quality of restaurant food. They kept marveling at how good everything was everywhere, and I mean everywhere.

I would never see the goodness in a breakfast at B Bar like they did, but then I probably wouldn’t eat breakfast (or any other meal) at B Bar. Is that because I’m jaded or because British food is truly that bad?

They seemed to think that our standards are higher, that here even mediocre restaurants serve decent food (I’m sure we could’ve proven them wrong) and recounted rampant U.K. kitchen nightmares involving frozen food, microwaves and general staleness.

I thought England was on an upswing, but it’s true that a lot of the trends seem focused on meat: nose to tail eating, raising your own livestock, butchering practically as hobby (they really seem to love killing animals on TV—I’m sure it’ll be all the rage here in 2009). Perhaps reviving old traditions is having less impact on vegetarian fare.

So, I hadn’t realized my houseguests would be so easily impressed, but I still sought out an appropriately high-end vegetarian-friendly restaurant for my sister’s birthday. Per Se wasn’t going to happen, and even with the favorable exchange rate I still think it would be a little rich for their blood (mine too, really, but I was keeping in mind that my sister is a recently unemployed social worker and her husband is a tree surgeon). I considered Daniel and Bouley but I just didn’t think they would be enjoyable.

Stuffiness wouldn’t fly. My family is super casual–I’m fairly certain that my dad never owned a tie–but I wouldn’t say they’re yokels either. Beforehand, I described Gramercy Tavern to Melissa as, “the type of place you’re supposed to take your parents…but not our parents.”

Don't get me wrong. The Christmas before last I gave my mom and the stepdude a gift certificate to Park Kitchen, which didn't strike me as Olive Garden-y. though I couldn’t say if that was their speed or not. Despite spending nearly the first quarter of my life in Portland, I’m no longer familiar with the dining scene, which has changed dramatically since I left in the late ‘90s.

My favorite way to experience a nice meal is to warm up with a few drinks first. Maybe I’ll move on to an artisanal cocktail at the restaurant, then wine with dinner, in this case a bottle of 2005 Lucien Crochet Sancerre Le Chene, but I actually enjoy downing a few beers at a non-fancy venue earlier. I’m not talking about getting trashed, say, three pints over a two-hour period like we downed at No Idea. Maybe I’m a drunk because I rarely suffer ill effects, though the rest of the household seemed a bit rough around the edges the next day.

Gramercy Tavern was a complete success. Everyone was happy and that's rare. James and I were allowed our meat and seafood and the visitors had the vegetable tasting menu (it’s notable that this version was already vegetarian, the one I saw in the fall contained bacon and lobster).

The service was genuinely impressive, never stuffy but eerily attentive. It’s silly but I was most wowed when a new course came while Melissa was in the bathroom and a metal dome was employed. We were asked if wanted ours kept warm until she returned. Uh no, as if any of us are that considerate.

For the sake of space, I’m linking to photos of the vegetable courses. This is what was served:

Root Vegetable Terrine and Mustard Crème & Herb Salad
Carrot Soup with Spiced Cashews
Butternut Squash Risotto
Warm Salad of Winter Vegetables and Farro
Mushroom Ravioli with Wild Mushrooms and Aged Balsamic

Though I rarely drink them anymore, whiskey sours used to be my cocktail. This is a pear sour using Belle de Brillet, a pear cognac and Clear Creek Williams Pear Brandy. Oh, and lemon juice, of course.

An amuse of beet and what I believe was duck lardo. Lardo sounds classier than fat when describing food, but no much when talking about a person. Hey lardo.

Snow Crab, Radish and Lemon Vinaigrette

The vivid colors are mesmerizing. The sweetness of the crab meat contrasted nicely with the tart lemony smudges of dressing. I don’t recall ever eating sea beans before but through some sort of culinary osmosis I immediately recognized them.

Nantucket Bay Scallops, Lentils, Pickled Mushrooms and Salsify

I’m still don’t have a handle on salsify even though I’ve been served it more than a few times in recent history. The somewhat mushy texture was stiffened up by the pickling. I have no idea what stained it brown but I liked that it transformed into something Asian seeming that might be sold by the pound in a tub at the back of a store.

Smoked Trout, Sunchoke Purée and Pickled Cippolini Onions

Pickling again. The sweet and sour quality and crimson color made me think there were cranberries involved. Not so. In my mind I’m imagining a mustard flavor too—perhaps that was a component of the sunchoke puree.

Quail, Cinderella Squash and House-Cured Bacon

It was hard not to admire the world’s tiniest wing (and poached egg). Mini poultry is tough to manage with fork and knife, though. I ended up using my hands.

Rack of Veal, Wild Mushrooms, Asian Pears and Celery Root Purée

The portions were hardly enormous but I did start feeling full by this course (those three pints will catch up with you) and the richness of the meat kind of finished me. Any additional savories and I might’ve felt ill.

I almost forgot about this in-between course of mango sorbet, tapioca pearls and cilantro sauce. I guess you could say it was refreshing.

Dessert was a choice of cheese plate (James’s option), a chocolate mishmash (both UK visitors’ pick) and an apple clafoutis, which I was swayed by. I love cheese but like I said, I couldn’t take any more savory. Chocolate kills me after a serious meal. An avowed fruit-hater, it’s usually the route I go for a sweet finish. It’s naked fruit that makes me listless and this tart with cinnamon ice cream was embellished just enough to be exciting.

A cranberry-orange muffin for the next morning.

Gramercy Tavern * 42 E. 20th St., New York, NY

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Feb 28

Vegetarian Dim Sum House

I don’t understand people who hate tofu and mock meat. Sure, fake buffalo wings and tofurky are kind of wrongheaded, but bean curd and gluten can be completely tasty, especially when transformed into dim sum. It doesn't seem unnatural.

I only ever seem to patronize Vegetarian Dim Sum House when my sister is in town. It was a hit on her last visit so a repeat performance was in order. This time we totally went overboard. What’s shown below is only about half of the food that was on the table, and even with five diners we all were able to take home leftovers. It’s easy to order wildly because you just check off boxes with the quantities you want and just about everything is $2.95.

Turnip cakes are the most like "real" dim sum. The only thing missing are the pork bits. These are served with oyster sauce, though, instead of sweet soy.

Lotus root slices were sandwiched between what I swear was mashed potato. The crunch and mush was a nice combo.

Ok, more potato. These were essentially fritters.

We had three varieties of rice flour rolls. White fungus and golden mushrooms are above. There were also mock ham and coriander and mock shrimp.

Fried dough blobs.

Buddha's bean curd rolls were a hit.

You never know if you're getting a sweet or savory. I thought these would contain lotus seed paste, but they were filled with crushed peanuts.

Obviously, these shark's fin dumplings didn't contain any endangered species. They did mimic the texture, though.

Pork buns are one of my favorite Chinese snacks. You might think faux ones would be a bust but they are fairly convincing. You can't completely match the sweet meaty, roasty flavor of char siu, yet these are respectable in their own right.

Tapioca dumplings filled with sesame paste were a little heavy. Half of one is plenty.

Classic shrimp dumplings minus the shrimp. I've always liked fake crab so mock shrimp isn't much different.

Honestly, I'm not sure what this was and if anyone actually ordered it. It seemed like one of those bland almond jelly desserts. Very blanc mange. The nuggets might have been mung beans even though they look like corn.

Vegetarian Dim Sum House * 24 Pell St., New York, NY

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Feb 14

Crave on 42nd

No more truffled mac and cheese (10/29/08)

Ah…Valentine’s Day. Food-wise mine is already over. Tonight I will probably just watch Lost and turn cold leftover white rice into fried rice for dinner. Romance is not dead; it can be kind of strange, though.

Last year I was happy to start doing Valentine’s dinners on dates that weren’t the 14th. This year the trend was continued with a meal on the 13th at odd choice, Crave on 42nd. If anything it was a reminder that two people with very different ideas regarding just about everything can remain amiable after eight Valentine’s Days.

If I were to pick a Top Chef restaurant, which I wouldn’t, I would definitely lean towards Perilla. Nothing I read about Dave Martin’s restaurant inspired much confidence, and frankly I was kind of scared. I was also scared to take interior shots of the room lest the chef think I was trying to snap photos of him. I'm not one for such antics.

My hesitance wasn’t allayed by the blustery stroll to Twelfth Ave from Port Authority. Walking five avenues in heels (I wear flats 90% of the time because I’m overly practical and paranoid about falling down stairs) on the rainiest day of the year made me nervous. I thought I had seen the last of this block abutting the Hudson River when I made the trek twice last fall for my Chinese visa.

The location at the base of a large condo complex and across from the Chinese Embassy is kind of unfortunate. From a distance, you might think the restaurant would be a dry cleaners or dentist office, but then you’re thrown off by the white Christmas lights dolling up the edges of the windows.

Yeah, it’s suburban feeling, spacious, inoffensive, and I’m ok with all that. Embarrassingly, it marries all that I love about chains with a Manhattan address, which is to say that many New Yorkers would hate it. The food is benign: comfort-y with twists. Burgers and pizza are prominently featured. It’s not a place for tasting menus and wine pairings.

The overall style is the opposite of that Citicard commercial that I hate. The one with the tired cliché “the food was tiny.” Maybe this elf food joke was funny in the ‘70s when nouvelle cuisine was, uh, new? Amusing only to me, I Googled “the food was tiny” and this very site came up ninth place in reference to Megu. Quite fitting since that was a Valentine’s dinner from three years ago.

The first thing you notice upon entering the room is the distinct aroma of warm cheese and truffle oil. The windows were steamed up, it was like stepping into a sauna made of fontina. I refused to go with the flow and order the famous truffled macaroni and cheese, but that didn’t stop James. I did appreciate the crispy top on the two bites I took, but I’ve never been a mac and cheese person.

Instead, I ordered the sea scallops with vanilla cream and smoked tomato butter. The vanilla was subtle and worked with the smokiness. Apparently, smoke is the chef’s thing as my next course also used that descriptor.

Smokey rubbed filet mignon with groovy gorgonzola, sweet onion rings and Yukon Gold mashed potatoes. No, the groovy isn’t my addition, I’m just giving you a taste of how the titles are written. I don’t usually order beef so I’m not sure what got into me. Maybe I was just going for the traditional spirit of Valentine’s Day and ordering the most expensive thing on the menu. It was meat and potatoes with blue cheese; it’s kind of hard to ruin that combination and clearly it did its job because I ended up eating the whole thing even though I didn’t plan to. It's hard to tell from the photo, but for some reason it was in two pieces.

Sassy sea bass with adobo honey butter and couscous. James ordered the girl dish. It was sassy, after all and he’s the opposite of that adjective. The glaze was sweet, which was pleasing to me because I like candied flavors.

I’m anti-chocolate molten cakes and am generally underwhelmed by panna cotta, so the only dessert possibility was the warm apple turnover. Definitely better than a fried McDonalds pie.

Our wine pick, an Australian Chardonnay, Slipstream, Arcade Hills 2006, was probably an off choice for my steak but that’s the beauty of a place like this, no one is going to care. Admittedly, I was thinking more about my scallops when I picked this white wine.

I hate to say it but I’m experiencing some serious gastrointestinal distress this morning. So much so that I decided it was safer to work from home today (I would be surprised if any office mates read this but if you do, just know that I’m writing this on my lunch hour and not goofing off, thanks). Maybe the gorgonzola was too groovy? I’d like to blame it on escolar, the much blogged about Ex-Lax fish, but bass and salmon were the only fish on offer.

There’s nothing more romantic than the warm glow of a tow truck hauling away an illegally parked car outside your window.

Crave on 42nd * 650 42nd St., New York, NY

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Feb 12

Sapporo

It’s interesting to see what dining choices will arise when a group of relatively like-minded (music vaguely being the common bond not food) people decide it’s time to eat after a few rounds of drinks.

Kate’s Joint, San Loco, sushi on St. Marks, ramen…no, hell no, maybe, sure. Ultimately, the gathering split into multiple directions based on culinary preferences. I won’t make a fuss if Japanese noodles are suggested, though I’m hardly a connoisseur. Not even close. All those northern Asian countries (ok, mostly Japan and Korea) are out of my typical scope. I’ve never been to heavy hitters like Setagaya or Minca.

Sapporo was just around the corner from Hi-Fi, our starting point. Not to be all old-timer but I do appreciate that chunks of the East Village have been resistant to change, and this popular no-frills joint with great prices feels grounded in a less flashy era.

Ultimately, I ended up with a bowl of udon, possibly because I’m still missing my chicken udon from Yagura even though I haven’t worked in the area for two years. My one mistake is always slurping too soon. It’s been forty-eight hours and my tongue still has all the taste burnt out of it.

I know I was recently bemoaning how battered fried seafood makes me hurl, but I do like shrimp tempura in small amounts. However, I’ve never quite understood why you would put something crispy into broth since all the deep fried goodness turns to immediate sog. I still like it, though.

Crispy oysters served with “sauce” a.k.a. Worcestershire and some other condiment that was thin and flavored with sesame oil. Lest you think I was tempting fate with all this fried food, these fritters were not mine.

I can’t remember which ramen this was; not miso or salt broth but the other one and topped with sliced pork and fish cakes. I would probably get this next time.

I get excited when I see the word tendon on a menu. Alas, this isn’t Chinese food and no chile oil and Sichuan peppercorns were put to use. It’s don as in over rice. I guess ten must have something to do with that irresistable shrimp tempura.

Despite no feeling in my tongue, I feel invigorated. The Japanese restaurant I’m really keen on trying is Hakata Tonton, which looks to have just fallen victim to the DOH. I need pigs’ feet so they had better get it together pronto.

Sapporo * 164 First Ave., New York, NY

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Jan 30

Boqueria

As much as a complain about Manhattan, I do appreciate that it’s business as usual on Sunday nights. The last time I attempted going out after 9pm on a three-day weekend Sunday was in Toronto, and it was a complete ghost town. Boqueria (as well as Olive Garden) was almost at capacity the night before Martin Luther King Day.

I was determined to have creative Spanish food after getting hopped on Tapas: a Taste of Spain in America, but deciding where to go was no easy task. Spending more than you’d expect on small dishes was a given; value wasn’t my concern as much as agreeable food and atmosphere. I’d already been to Tia Pol (too far) Ostia (too average) and Pamplona (good but I wanted something new). Everything I read about Mercat said it was loud and oversalted, Casa Mono seemed tiny and irritating, ditto for Quinto Pino but probably not so irritating. I’d been to the old Suba a few times and wasn’t inspired to try the newest incarnation. Boqueria was all that was left.

I hate to admit that my photos are even more off than usual. I was playing around with the white balance trying to counteract the dreaded candlelight and not only made everything washed out and fuzzy but somehow changed the height/width ratio. I don’t even know if I should be allowed to have a camera.

This was regular jamon Serrano, not the fabled Iberico ham. Nonetheless, it was still handsome and meaty. I hadn’t expected the jamon to come atop pa amb tomaquet, pan con tomate, Catalan, Spanish…however you like. I’m always surprised how tomato guts on toast can be so appealing.

“Why are there so many eggs on the menu?” asked the girl half of the couple next to us. I honestly hadn’t noticed the overabundance but yes, there is a soft-boiled one in this dish. She ordered it too. I love anything with chickpeas and morcilla. Garbanzos al Pinotxo are in the style of Barcelona’s Bar Pinotxo. I was very bummed that all the food biggies, including this stand in the Boqueria market, were closed the week I was there last summer.

Any iteration of dates, bacon and cheese (and sometimes almond) are a must. In this instance the cheese was valdeon, a blue. I’ve made these with manchego and think they would be perfect for a Super Bowl snack even though they seem kind of froufrou. I couldn't even snap this shot before one date went missing from the skewer.

Brandade is kind of like shrimp toast. Maybe the whipped salt cod and potatoes on bread were grilled not fried; they still had that oily unctuousness that goes down well but might cause trouble later.

As Americans we would’ve eaten cheese with everything else, but we obeyed its place on the desert menu. Idizabal came cubed and tossed with olives and the rosemary manchego was surrounded a few tiny squares of membrillo and filberts (wow, I tried to not say hazelnut but filbert just sounds backwoods even though that’s what I grew up with and oddly what I saw used in Toronto. Did you know that Oregon is the nation’s largest hazelnut producer?). Our two choices were enjoyed with a rose cava that James thought was like a wine cooler.

Boqueria * 53 W. 19th St., New York, NY

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Jan 22

P*ONG

No more P*ONG (1/20/09)

My friend Sherri and I early birded it at P*ONG on a weeknight. Perhaps that’s why our waiter called me madam? Ma’am is one thing, and I hate it, but I’m not sure if madam is more offensive or plain goofy (I'd say gay but I don't think that's allowed anymore, especially from a grown woman in 2008. Just don't take away my ability to use retarded, ok?).

We ordered the smallest suite, as they have dubbed their tasting menus, seven courses at $63. Wine pairings always entice me, but I wasn’t up for that much of a splurge. I’m also not a fan of the mid-teens-priced cocktail, uh, because I like to drink and there’s no justifying $50 for a few Tuesday night beverages. A sweet wine seemed in order with this style of food so a bottle of Gewürztraminer it was.

I hate to admit that this meal is now a total blur, which isn’t necessarily a reflection of the quality of food. It’s more an indicator of dining partner. I tend to eat at pricier restaurants with James, not so much because he occasionally subsidizes me but because he’s not high maintenance (I recently did group dim sum and there were non-meat eaters, meat-eaters who didn’t eat shrimp, meat-eaters who didn’t eat pork, and well, let’s just say dining with others can be treacherous). And for no reason whatsoever we eat horrifically slow (which is more acute in casual settings where every table near us turns over in thirty minutes. Last night I was watching a grotesque Travel Channel infomercial masquerading as informative show called Cruising Do’s & Don’ts, which unfortunately had nothing to do with anonymous sex and everything to do with eking value from Disney cruises. My point is that they had to explain that the “specialty” restaurants for 18+ patrons require extra time and that a meal might take two-and-a-half hours like this was something unusual and a little outrageous. Then, I flipped over to Fast Times at Ridgemont High and un-ironically reveled in a simpler time) This isn’t some intentional savoring technique, it just happens. The main upside is that I tend to recall what I’ve eaten after the fact.

So, the pacing at P*ONG was jauntier and than usual because the conversation was animated which translated to quick consumption. This wasn’t an occasion for overanalyzing ingredients. And it’s not like the portions are exactly demanding of one’s time. It’s the kind of preciousness that could prompt totally cliché “dude, I could eat a hamburger” after seven courses. However, I’ve never left a tasting menu hungry, so I call bullshit on this sort of hysteria.

Tiny recap with less-than-ideal photos:

burrata and american paddlefish caviar, frozen roasted red pepper, foccacia chip

The ice-cold pepper fluff kind of freaked me out and made the cheese seem like it had been over-refrigerated. Hot/cold interplays are interesting, they did it a lot at Moto, but I’m not sure if they’re the tastiest.

kabocha squash coconut soup, tonka bean, cinnamon, white chocolate, amaretti

I didn’t even realize there was white chocolate in this. The overall effect wasn’t as sweet as these ingredients would imply.

fresh yellowtail tartare, grapefruit, guava, ichimi pepper, avocado crème, beet oil

house cured arctic char, aniseed pastry, mission figs, maple mustard emulsion (oops, I forgot to take a photo of this)

chocolate and pinot noir braised duck, kabocha tapioca, raisin, oyster mushroom

There’s no indication from the description that this is a pastry-topped item, but it was a happy surprise because I love pot pie. If what I read somewhere is true, the dishes progress from least sweet to sweetest. This would be the point where I’m good since I have a sweet meat tooth (b'stilla being the ultimate in this realm). Still savory but on the verge of tipping into desserts.

warm date cake, rum toffee, black mission figs, orange sugar, citrus crème fraiche

Ah, sticky toffee pudding—another favorite.

chocolate marquis, hazelnut, aleppo pepper, honey, green apple mousse

As I didn’t detect all the sweet ingredients in the earlier courses, I did not taste the pepper in this.

There were also cookies at the end and a course with two sorbet-like blobs somewhere in all of this. I know Pichet Ong is a pastry chef by training hence the sugary leanings but I might have preferred one more savory dish in lieu of a sweet one. Plus, I don't know how to categorize the cuisine using my limited self-created choices; it's not Asian or Thai despite others describing it as so, but I wouldn't feel right saying it's American either.

P*ONG * 150 W. Tenth St., New York, NY

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Jan 19

Kuta Satay House

Newish Kuta Satay House and year-old Kampuchea Noodle Bar seem cut from the same ikat cloth. Both are on Rivington St. and serve less-than-common Southeast Asian cuisines in modern settings. Sounds like trouble. I’ve meant to try semi-Cambodian Kampuchea since it opened late 2006, yet I made it to the semi-Indonesian restaurant first.

You could survive on plates of multiculti satays (Korean kalbi and rosemary tandoori lamb are on the list) and sake cocktails (not my favorite beverage breed) or eat a full meal, presented Western-style, entrees for one with sides. They were promoting a four-course $25 prix fixe which isn’t a bad deal but I’ve been trying to tone down my consumption.

We easily could’ve ordered another dish or at least another pair of satays. Malaysian curry chicken was kind of uninteresting while the Indonesian Madura flank steak was sweet with kecap manis (one of my favorite condiments) and genuinely spicy. I don’t take heat warnings from waiters in Lower East Side restaurants seriously, but the beef had enough kick that it could set off sensitive palates. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but I feel like there should’ve been dipping sauces not just cucumber relish. Strangely, their menu notes three sauces if you order the twelve-skewer platter.

"Bandung" duck salad is completely not an Asian salad, which I understood from the description listing spring greens, grape tomatoes, goat cheese and walnut pomegranate vinaigrette. James doesn’t read so he asked, “what’s the white stuff?” It’s clearly a vexing addition because I got the same question from Bill, who I can’t blame because he didn’t have a menu in front of him, regarding my Flickr photo.

The goat cheese sounds strange but it’s not grotesque. If anything, duck is the oddity. I like making seemingly healthy things like salads unhealthy, so this worked for me.

If I hadn’t started with fatty poultry I would’ve tried the duck curry. Instead, we split the crispy striped bass a.ka.ikan goreng asam manis. I know enough Malay food words that I could deduce this would be fried fish in a sweet and sour sauce. I love the Vietnamese version, and I was sick of steaming and baking seafood at home. Crunchy skin is where it’s at. And 1/3 of the three potatoes was purple, so that made my night.

We arrived early on a Friday and the only other diners were a loud already drunk (seriously, how are you trashed by 7pm?) work party, so I can’t speak to the atmosphere. However, the food was a little better than I’d anticipated, based on the surroundings (and shrieking office ladies). From the open rectangular slit in the wall, I could see an older gentleman doing all the cooking. Perhaps, I shouldn’t assume that wizened Asians in the kitchen guarantee goodness, but it made me feel a little better about what I was eating.

Kuta Satay House * 65 Rivington St., New York, NY

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Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Royale

Momofuku Ko

Allen & Delancey

Gramercy Tavern

Vegetarian Dim Sum House

Crave on 42nd

Sapporo

Boqueria

P*ONG

Kuta Satay House

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