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Spice Market

Ah, the yearly birthday dinner. Over the past four years a pattern has
certainly emerged. James always chooses Nuevo Latino and/or meat heavy, and
I always pick Asian and/or the dreaded fusion. So, when Spice Market, and
its Southeast Asian street food shtick, opened a month or so before his
birthday, it was crying out for a try. Being new and disturbingly sceney, I
was afraid reservations might pose a problem. And they did, we were posed
the 6 or 10:30pm dilemma. Like it or not, 10:30pm it was (which worked out
well since I had class, mere blocks away until 9pm anyway).

They've captured the dark, teaky, temple quality well. Arches and
carvings that make you wonder if they're pre-fab or authentic (they're true
blue imports). It could be construed as Pier One or ABC Carpet and Home
depending on your point of reference. And despite our late reservation, we
were still made to wait what seemed like an unusually long time at the front
bar. I didn't immediately notice time passing because I was busy consuming
the abnormally fat wasabi peanuts set before me. Unlike the more typical
peas, these are thick with spicy spring green crust, fiery, addictive and
tooth-shattering as it turned out. (Part of James's tooth chipped off hours
later as he caught an early morning cab to JFK. He blames the wasabi
peanuts. I say bullshit. I also recently read how Nicole Kidman began
choking in the bar at Spice Market and had to be Heimliched. Wasabi peanuts
as culprit?) I assumed they were either made in-house or by some exclusive
purveyor, but on a recent New Jersey trek, I noticed them at Trader Joe's.
Definitely more Pier One.

Two things pleased and surprised me. No, not the clientele, they were
about as ick as expected (though no sightings despite all the reports of
Martha Stewart, Howard Stern and Tom Cruise making appearances that same
week). It's not outrageously expensive and the food is actually quite good.
There's a high-end vibe at work, perhaps it's in knowing that the restaurant
is a Jean-George creation, but the overall feeling is breezy and casual.
Some might say too casual, considering how they bring dishes to the table
all higgledy-piggledy with no regard for the appetizer first, entre second
convention. They make it sound like a conscious decision where it would be
easily interpreted as lack of coordination.

The oft-mentioned shaved tuna and chili tapioca balls in a coconut
kaffir lime broth was fresh, chewy and intriguing. (I know Amanda Hesser got
a lot of flack for using the phrase "the dish is eaten with a spoon" in her
review, but that is what the waiters tell you when the bowl arrives.)
Another talked about dish, the Ovaltine kulfi, also was more than a one-hit
wonder. The malty frozen rectangle was firmer and more pliable than ice
cream, almost like a dense, iced candy bar. Blah sounding ginger rice, which
I ordered just for the heck of it, was one of the more flavorful and light
fried rice renditions I've sampled. Pork vindaloo wasn't scorching (as I
might've liked it) nor the red curry duck, but both were equal or better
than what you'd get at many Indian and Thai restaurants around Manhattan,
and hardly priced higher.

It's hard to feel cheated by the prices, portions, quality or flavor,
which is important when you're a silly library student and splurges are few
and far between. Once the crowds have moved on to other Meatpacking
hotspots, Spice Market will probably be even more enjoyable.


SpiceMarket 403 W. 13th St., New York, NY

Caserta Vecchia

I'm so not into the whole Carroll Gardens Italian thing. How I ended up here
on a Friday night is a bit of a mystery, especially since I was in the mood
for a suburban style buffet and James had emailed me earlier in the day
wanting to find a sit-down Pizza Hut for that evening's entertainment.
Caserta is neither Pizza Hut-like nor a buffet. It's just real average
Italian-American type food. My brick oven quattro formaggia pizza was
alright, the antipasto was adequate, James thought his fettucine with ham
was blah. It's just what it was. And then we got into a fight because I
wanted to throw James a birthday party and he didn't want one. How
ridiculous a fight is that? Now Caserta is imprinted in my mind as a
conflict-inducing spot with ok, but uninspiring food.


Caserta
Vecchia
* 221 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

Mexican Sandwich Company

1/2 *Closed sometime in early 2005

First off, I must make it clear that this place doesn't really serve Mexican sandwiches. I got excited when I first heard about it because I love tortas to death (and they probably will be the death of me will all that yummy fat). But these are not tortas, they are quesadillas. I'd almost call quesadillas Mexican pizza before I'd say Mexican sandwich, but whatever.

What inspired a visit was a viewing of that British cooking show "The Best" on Discovery Home & Leisure where three people whip up a dish based on a theme and one is swiftly declared the winner by a group of judges who are never introduced. The whole thing is so un-American, it's rapid, there's no build-up or suspense, maybe these people are somebodies, but they're never introduced, they cook, the judges eat, then text message who won, the show ends. But on this night they were making sandwiches and the female chef was making a "Mexican sandwich." The judges referred to it as a "cheese and chile flatbread." Not once was it referred to as a quesadilla, which is clearly was. The British are so weird and backwards about certain cuisines.

So, our cravings for faux Mexican food were sated by this Park Slope caf. I went for duck confit and mango salsa, and James the chorizo and white bean. Heck, it was the best filled and cooked flatbread I've had.

Mexican Sandwich Company * 322 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn,NY

Banana Leaf

1/2 I don't really know what to make of this place, but became curious after reading one of those tiny off the menu blurbs in the NY Times about a new Malaysian restaurant in Bay Ridge with a chef who had been at Vong and Mercer Kitchen. The components just seemed odd. And after never hearing a peep about it anywhere in any press or from anyone, it became even more suspect. During my last week living in neighboring Sunset Park, I had to check it out since it wasn't likely I'd be in the area again soon.

It's just south of the BQE, tucked in that little old-timey strip rife with Irish bars. I was amused by the restaurant's subtitle, Malaysian bistro. Highfalutin'? We were the only diners, and it quickly became apparent that their business is made up almost exclusively of take-out orders. And there's the weird dichotomy. The neighborhood seems to view this upwardly mobile, aspiring above hole-in-the-wall Chinese, as a take-out joint. Yet terms like foam and coulis do not appear on most chop suey, fried rice menus. The plates are artfully arranged, carefully garnished, sauces are dabbed and drizzled. Presentation is a big part of their thing, which obviously wouldn't translate in a cardboard container. And the menu's not terribly Malaysian, there was some roti canai, beef rendang, rojak, nasi lemak and the like. But there were also Vietnamese pork chops, Thai noodles and curries, as well as Japanese flourishes. And to be honest, the food was pretty average, but it tasted better to me because they were really trying to do something different.

The desserts were what really gave me a kick. They had a separate dessert menu, implying they take that course seriously. Chendol and bur bur cha cha were present, but I went for the innocent sounding banana parfait, primarily because kueh was listed as an ingredient. I'm crazy obsessed with those gummy colorful layered confections. A triangle of banana cake came positioned on top of three pastel keuh wedges, topped with homemade peanut ice cream and streaked with chocolate sauce. So bizarre, but so satisfying. I'm afraid this place won't make it, it's in a weird spot and I don't know that they're pushing their unique take on classics hard enough for anyone who would be interested to take notice.

Banana Leaf * 6814 Fourth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Zona Rosa

No more Zona Rosa (2/09)

Once again James dipped into his special occasion canon of Latin and/or
meaty restaurants. I always like to play guessing games about where he's
going to take me, and I never would've picked this place in a million years
if I hadn't noticed a business card and press release earlier in the month
on his desk. I assumed it had something to do with his mom since she's
always in town for Hispanic-related events and conferences, which kind of
weirded me out because his mom is a source of contention and the idea of her
influencing his Valentine's dining choice was a bit odd.

I rarely eat upscale Mexican, and it was quite nice. There was a starter
of ceviche and guacamole with a few artfully arranged chips (there was way
too much guacamole for the amount of chips). I had a duck taco appetizer,
and stuffed quail in a mole sauce with rose petals for an entre. I'm
incredibly averse to eating flowers, it borders on being a phobia, but I was
sold on the little game bird and mole aspect. Eating around the petals was
no problem.

I asked James how he chose the restaurant, and he wouldn't tell me,
which was just plain weird. He insisted it had nothing to do with his
mother, but that he'd been there before (it had only been open about one
month, and there was all that controversy about Alex Garcia, who was
supposed to be the chef, being arrested on drug charges) and then refused to
tell me who he'd been there with or why. It was totally bizarre, and cast a
weird mood to the meal. I mean, on one hand, who cares why or who he'd been
there with, but on the other hand being all mysterioso just gets on my
nerves. Oh, I fear that with each progressive Valentine's Day, the farther
you become removed from the original sentiment of the holiday.


ZonaRosa * 40 W. 56th, New York, NY

Old Hat

I mentioned the elusive white Kit Kats and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups way back in 2002. So why is that I’m just now starting to see commercials for them? It’s old hat now. I’m more concerned with all the new low-carb crap on the market. I might be excited about the new Lime Diet Coke if I actually liked drinking soda (let alone diet soda, though as a color green is my favorite and as a flavor, lime is right up there). I’m a little bummed because I was hoping for lime green liquid, not cola color.

Pier 116

* Short-lived Smith St. restaurant. Now it's Taku.

I don't like battered, fried seafood, so really it's my own fault for not being wowed by the shrimp po'boy. This was one of those post-10pm weeknight meals that makes for meager dining choices. Carroll Gardens is so not about staying up past a respectable bedtime. We were the only people in the place, which is a nervous pet peeve of mine. The food was ok for what it was, it's just not my thing. James was irked by the bbq sauce on his fish sandwich, he insists that everyplace in the neighborhood puts bbq sauce where it doesn't belong (it ended up on a burger a few weeks later someplace else). I believe there are worse crimes, but whatever.

Pier 116 * 116 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

Village 247

Some might call the dcor cheesy, but sometimes faux small town facades,
complete with a barber shop pole and street signs like Arugula Lane and
Meatloaf Place transported indoors are just what you need. I was always a
little put off by this place because it's always been empty when I've
thought about trying it out, but that's mainly due to the neighborhood being
eerily empty after 10pm on weeknights (Carroll Gardens was specifically
mentioned in a recent article about transitional vs. relational
neighborhoods, meaning single people hotbeds as opposed to shacked-up
sanctuaries. We're totally in a married with children enclave, it's
frightening.)

It's primarily a sandwich and burger type of place, and it does them
pretty well. I was sort of intrigued by the muffaletta on the menu, which
they don't actually call as such, and the Portland omelet. Denver is known
for their filled egg combo, but Portland? (What would be in it, soyrizo and
rice cheese?) I'd go back, but James was miffed by the bbq sauce on his
burger and now believes that the entire neighborhood is bbq sauce crazy (it
also showed up on a fish sandwich at Pier 116).

It's a goner.


Village247 * 247 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

Mina

?

* Well, that was short-lived. Apparently, the staff kept saying Mina had gone back to Bangladesh when really she was setting up shop at Angon in the E. Village. Mina is now shuttered due to months of rent non-payment and who knows what else. (8/20/04)

I threw up in my hat minutes after eating here, though I don't know that it was Mina's fault since I did have a pounding headache prior to entering the restaurant. But it's hard not to let the aftermath taint the dining experience. And what an experience it was. I'd heard how idiosyncratic a place this was, small staff, small kitchen, every dish different every time ordered, long waits for food, forgetful service, etc. The sort of quirks that tend to plague places revered by people in the know food-wise. I could deal. At least I thought so, but after almost an hour with no food and everyone around us antsy because they were also empty-tabled, I started to get nervous. And my stomach was starting to hurt, out of hunger I figured. And everything I tried ordering: a fish dopiaza, then a goat curry, not to mention anything made with eggplant, they were out of. I'm so easygoing when it comes to dining, particularly at the lower end of the price spectrum, I'm not going to bust anyone's balls over $6.95. But all the events would've driven a diner with average expectations bonkers. I honestly couldn't tell you what we ended up eating because by that point I was feeling very ill. There was some meat, some somosas and some rice. It's a blur. All I know is that by the time we made it the block to the car I felt sicker than I have ever felt in my life, no exaggerating. I've never been that sweaty, nauseous and consumed by severe head pain (and I'm used to migraines). This wasn't a migraine, it felt like a tumor was trying to free itself from my brain. So, yes, we made it all through back streets twisting from Woodside to Carroll Gardens (we had the darndest time finding the BQE) and made it to the industrial borderlands of Columbia St. before I lost my dinner (and probably my lunch). The amusing part (thought not at the time) was how earlier that week James told me he didn't like this particular winter hat, and I was like fuck that, I'm going to wear it more now just to spite you. But full of Indian-spiced spinach, there was no way that wooly barf bag was going back on my head. This wretched retching went on all night long. I was totally poisoned. But like I said, it couldn't have been from Mina because I was already starting to fade when we initially sat down. So, I don't want to write Mina off, but it might take me a little convincing for a return visit.

Mina * 48-11 43rd Ave., Sunnyside, NY

Lobo

Brunch is not my thing. I partake maybe once every four months, if that. One, I can't get out of bed, and two, I'm scared of the stroller set that plagues practically every eatery in the neighborhood. Sunday, James suggested going to Hill Diner, but there was a crowd out front so we went for Lobo, across the street, instead.

I think they actually do a good breakfast and weren't packed to the gills either. I tend to admonish people who always order the same thing like they're afraid of change, but I've started realizing that I'm equally guilty. Lately, I've been noticing when I add my little write-ups here that on previous visits I'd eaten the exact same items. In this case, that would be the Texas breakfast.

I am not chaste on those rare occasions I actually do go out for breakfast or brunch. I don't want to choose between sweet or savory offerings, I want both (that's why IHOP is so genius). You need an egg, a meat and a treat, and that's what I got: two eggs over easy, a mess of bacon and two large buckwheat pecan pancakes. I don't even care much for pancakes (one would've been sufficient) but I wanted something to slather butter and drizzle maple syrup on. If I ever return, I will force myself to branch out. (11/13/05)

This is the old Harvest, which I never ate at anyway, so that doesn't mean much to me. Supposedly the brunch is the same (I mean, it's advertised as such on the window). I very, rarely brunch (did I just use brunch as a verb?). I'm just not up early enough, and if I am I'm not in the mood to deal with sitting near the type of people who do eat brunch.

Well, it turned out to be pleasing in a hearty, satisfyingly stuffed to the gills way that you can't do on a regular basis. I get the same effect from Old Devil Moon's breakfast offerings. But here they have the Tex-Mex slant as opposed to the Southern thing. Country ham, grits, huevos rancheros, big omelets, it's the works. I opted for dense, pecan-laced, buckwheat pancakes, and normally I don't even like pancakes. It just sounded so toothsome and right. And it was. (1/24/04)

Lobo * 218 Court St., Brooklyn, NY