Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Mar 18

Saigon Banh Mi So 1

I went a little sandwich crazy this Saturday. In less than thirty minutes I purchased a bocadillo from Despaña and two banh mi from this place. It was a bready Broome St. kind of afternoon.

Living in Sunset Park for a decent spell, Ba Xuyen has always been my go to spot. I think I've only tried So 1 once or twice, and years ago. I'd forgotten how many choices they had and how vegetarian friendly (lots of fake meat, gluten stuff) their banh mis can be. I was intrigued by a handwritten sign advertising chicken curry banh mi, but went with the classic, which is almost always a #1.

It's hard not to compare the Brooklyn and Manhattan sandwiches. Both are from the upper echelon of Saigon subs, but I'm partial to the Sunset Park style. I could be totally wrong, but Ba Xuyen's bread seems crispier, while So 1 has a softer style, more like an Italian roll. So 1 also uses more sausage, which I think is liberally laced with five-spice powder. Not a bad flavor, but it gives the sandwich an overall Chinese-y flair.

Like when I was in Hong Kong, certain stores just smelled Chinese, which I finally deduced meant five-spice powder to my senses. Much of Malaysia smelled, well, Malaysian. You'd be in a mall, walk past a store and get a whiff of Malaysia that I ultimately narrowed down to being toasted shrimp paste. I'm not sure what Vietnamese smells like–maybe lemongrass? Fish sauce, too, I guess. Nuoc cham?

Maybe it was just luck of the draw, but this banh mi had cilantro that was all stem, no leaf. I hate to admit that I have a stem phobia because it's very childish. But I've gotten much better, now I'll eat romaine no problem when ten years ago I'd nibble around the ribs. I'm a low maintenance eater, I swear, but there's something unsettling about biting into a wad of stems, not severing them neatly with your incisors, and then pulling the thin green stalks out of the sandwich with your mouth as you start to put the sandwich down.

Despite all my nitpicking, So1 still makes one of the better banh mis in Manhattan. If only the much revered banh mi would start popping up in midtown, all my problems would be solved. But you know they'd cost $7 and somehow manage to be pressed like a panini. (3/18/06)

Saigon Banh Mi So 1 * 369 Broome St., New York, NY

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Mar 18

Despaña

I totally went nuts at Despaña. For years (ok, maybe one year), I've had intentions of heading out to the Jackson Heights wholesale location. I go to Jackson Heights pretty frequently, the problem was, if I'm correct, that their open to the public hours were only 9am-1pm on Saturdays. I can never get it together that early on weekends. It's not like I ever make it to Nolita, Soho, or wherever you call Broome and Lafayette streets, either, though I did have business in the neighborhood twice this week (haircut and blue food dye)

My goal was to spend no more than $40 on a supplementary birthday present, but when all was said and done I'd blown close to $100. It happens. I bought, lomo, cabrales, Manchego, squid ink, saffron, membrillo, both hot and sweet paprika, Valencian rice, sherry vinegar, chorizo, morcilla and a bocadillo.

Most importantly (for Shovel Time's purposes), the bocadillo. It's strange because during my 9-6 Monday through Friday life I would never spend $7.50 for a sandwich because I'm cheap. But on the weekend that's more than fair for high quality ingredients. The bread comes from Sullivan Street Bakery, and the fillings are simple, no more than three ingredients per sandwich. I was mesmerized by all of the choices, but ended up choosing the el quijote: lomo embuchado i.e. dry cured pork loin, Manchego and membrillo spread. The counter guy commented "women always order that one." Well, I love pork and sweets together (don't get me started on Hawaiian pizza), I guess I'm a stereotype.

Despaña * 408 Broome St., New York, NY

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Mar 10

Sigiri

Sri Lankan seems more elusive than the ubiquitous Indian (or is it really Bangladeshi?) restaurants that are clustered in parts of the city. I was excited to try this new-ish East Village place because I'd only eaten Sri Lankan food once before in Staten Island and this seemed more convenient (though at the rate I've been going the past few years, I get to the forgotten borough more than Alphabet City).

The style of food I had at New Asha was slightly different, heartier, more home style, less refined, and in some ways slightly more tasty. It was casual steam table fare. Sigiri, while hardly formal, is slightly more upscale in price and presentation.

I don't even know what is quintessentially Sri Lankan, hence ordering benchmarks are nebulous. But black curry seems unique, and Sigiri offers a version with pork. The black is really dark brown, achieved by toasting of spices like…I'm not sure which spices. Hoppers also seem unusual, little crispy crepe-like vessels that come four to an order, three plain, one with a sunny side up egg embedded in the bottom. Sambol is served as an accompaniment, we chose coconut.

We were warned about heat, but then, we always are and are always let down by wimpy-ness. Sigiri comes through, they really do mean hot when they say it. Our devilled prawns, which were grilled, came with onion, chiles and were slightly sweet and sour, but mostly spicy. The black curry was probably a notch hotter. We thought hoppers were eaten in lieu of rice, but had to order a bowl on the fly to combat the burn.

The staff, or at least one waitress, seemed to know practically all of the diners. I don't know if everyone was regulars or if the Sri Lankan community in NYC is just really small and restaurants are so few.

Sigiri * First Ave., New York, NY

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Mar 4

Tia Pol

I had avoided Tia Pol for ages because I feared it was the type of place that would make me unhappy. You know, tiny, cramped, jostling, long waits. All of that was true, but it didn't bother me. Maybe it was the drinks I'd downed prior to dinner.

One of the main reasons I'd never been to Tia Pol is that it's just not on my way to anything. I finally found an opportunity when I decided to see Architecture of Density, a series of photographs by Michael Wolf at Hasted Hunt Gallery down the street. I never go see art, but I really love these images of Hong Kong and got an invite from the photographer after writing online about how I was just going to blow up color photocopies of images from the book since I couldn't afford the $8,000 (or so) price tags. I always forget that people actually read what I write occasionally, and it's probably not wise to talk about things like flagrantly violating copyright (or tax laws).

So, there's nothing like little bites after viewing large scale photography. There was about a thirty minute wait, and the bar area is narrow, but like I said, it wasn't unbearable. We eventually got a nice two-seater in the back away from the fray.

With tapas I'm never sure if I'm under or over ordering. Our strategy here was to order a decent number of the small sized servings (most items come in two sizes) and opt for more if necessary (I've never actually done this when using this plan of attack, for fear of seeming too gluttonous). A glass of Txakoli made a nice accompaniment.

Grilled sardines with a carrot slaw. There was a distinctive coriander seed sweetness to the shredded vinegared vegetables.

I can never pass up the gambas. My question is whether or not you're supposed to eat the shells. I always do, and the heads too. Is that barbaric?

Chorizo, chocolate and little chile strands. Yes, the combination is peculiar, though not untasty. I think it's just regular chocolate, possibly milk chocolate. I can see it working better with a darker more bitter permutation.

Classic patatas bravas. Weird how mayonnaise can be so blech, but aioli can be so addictive. That's garlic for you.

Blurry lamb skewers. Nice and cuminy.

I can never recall all the contents of a cheese plate after the fact. But there was definitely some marcona almonds, honey covered walnuts, quince paste, cabrales, manchego and idiazabal.

Tia Pol * 205 Tenth Ave., New York, NY

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Feb 25

Tehuitzingo Deli

People in the know go all nuts for Tehuitzingo Deli. I think it's because the bulk of Manhattan is taco deprived. Don't get me wrong, they churn out an authentic item (I included them in a real vs. fake article I recently wrote) but it's the sort of place that humorless foodies might bandy about as a badge of honor.

Behold tacos filled with barbacoa, carnitas and cecina. They all taste distinct, but it's hard to discern which is which from this pic.

I went to the Belle and Sebastian show with Heather, who had a friend (that I won't link to because it's more fun to blog behind backs) that wanted to grab a bite before the concert. He had mentioned Tehuitzingo to her, but I had already put in a convincing vote for Olive Garden. This was majorly vetoed by this friend of a friend. It was ok, I wrangled two souls into going to The OG.

It was funny because after the show, my pal tracked down this guy and introduced us and mentioned that we both did food blogs like that would be a bond. But it never is. That's why I don't hang out with any food freaks (most of my friends are vegetarian or meat and potatoes). If someone can't eat at Tehuitzingo and Olive Garden in the same week, then it's just not going to work. God created tripe tacos and neverending pasta bowls to both be enjoyed.

Tehuitzingo Deli * 695 Tenth Ave., New York, NY

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Feb 24

5 Ninth

1/2 Jeez, how does someone manage to spend $86 on lunch for two? I've had a $5 lunch limit for the past few years, which is pretty lax considering previously I was a staunch brown bagger.

Well, the secret to running up a hefty tab is simple: order a couple drinks each. That's all. I owed James for his generosity at Blue Hill and anticipated at least being able to get reimbursed for the $15 Cubano that I was using as an example in an article I was writing. Plus, I was using a sick day (I really was sick, I swear, but not too sick to eat, duh) and wanted to make the most of my precious freedom.

But no cubano. They were suspiciously out, and it's certain that they didn't run out since there was only one other table occupied in the entire downstairs room where we were seated. So, I went to the suggested $12 skate sandwich, which was a battered and fried riff on a po' boy, but with aioli, strong green leaves/herbs I couldn't identify and topped with roe. Thick shrimp chips came on the side, which only made me wonder what would've accompanied the cubano (which for the record is a Berkshire pork, prosciutto, aioli [they love their garlic mayo] gouda and pickled jalapeo affair).

James ordered a $18 duck leg curry, which prompted the waitress to recommend a $5 side of rice, which we discovered was completely asinine as the dish comes served over rice. That's the sort of thing that ought to be complained about, but I steer away from. She really shouldn't have indulged in price gouging since they'd already failed to meet my sandwich expectations. I think I should hold Zak Palaccio personally responsible (and I hear the guy is opening another restaurant–didn't we just get Fatty Crab?). I do recall my first and only foray into his "Brooklyn global cuisine" as a frustrating experience.

So, the redundant rice, two Johnnie Blacks and soda and Gruner Veltliners killed me in the end. Now it'll have to be sack lunch for at least week. At least I had a nice cold medicine-wine buzz to last me through the afternoon.

5 Ninth * 5 Ninth Ave., New York, NY

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Feb 22

Son Cubano

I can honestly say that I practically tried everything on the menu. I can also honestly say that I probably wouldn't have visited Son Cubano of my own volition. It's interesting seeing restaurants from a journalistic (I use that term loosely) perspective versus a personal one. You might enjoy the food or respect the chef, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you'd pick the place for an impromptu Thursday night dinner. Clientele and location are also big factors for me, and well, the meatpacking district doesn't need any explaining, does it? I did dig the restaurant's location, smack against the increasingly out-of-place Western Beef.

The chef was beyond generous and wanted to give me a taste of everything Cuban. And I do mean everything. I just expected a couple quintessential dishes, so I could get schooled on what makes Cuban cuisine Cuban for a NY Post article not an encyclopedia entry. Not that I was complaning.

But during at least three points during the evening James and I cried culinary uncle and hoped the procession had come to an end. And then more plates would come out. Four or five appetizers including empanadas, fried pork, a mushy polenta thing with crab, croquettes, then three kinds of rice and beans, a roast pork leg, ropa vieja, boiled yucca, four desserts: a regular flan, a tiny super rich milkless flan, a crazy dulce de leche sweet made from curdling the caramel in lime juice and bread pudding. I know I'm missing a few items.

It was almost like a cruel joke or social experiment–how much free food will a person take before "oh no, I couldn't eat another bite" turns from politeness to terror. But I'm the type who can't bear to waste food, so it was painful to leave so much behind. We didn't pace ourselves in the beginning, not realizing this was a marathon.

I can say that I feel smarter about Cuban food, and that I might not have a craving for Cuban food any time in the near future.

Son Cubano * 405 W. 14th St., New York, NY

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Feb 14

Pampano

Oh my god, every year I get brattier and brattier. In the old days I'd be shocked and amazed if a guy bought a carton of kung pao chicken and let me pick a few bites. Now I expect the world. Well, the world outside east midtown.

I've had such irrational aversion to the east 50s since my new job stuck me in this stagnant no-man's land. Sutton Place is scary. Shun Lee Palace is scary. All of Third Ave. gives me the heebie-jeebies.

So, it weirded me out when James mentioned he'd chosen a Valentine's restaurant near my office. I'm still not sure how he stumbled upon Pampano. But I guessed it because he has a propensity for Latin American or meaty restaurants for celebrations. Really, he was being thoughtful since I've been attempting to eat moderately light and figured seafood would be safe.

And Pamapano was perfectly nice. Unfortunately, it got overshadowed by our showier Blue Hill meal later that week. I mean, the two are nothing alike so I shouldn't compare them. Valentine's is one of those tricky dining occasions because it's hard to avoid the hype and hokeyness. It's definitely not the best measure of a chefs strengths.

We started with guacamole because that's what you're supposed to do at higher end Mexican places in Manhattan. And then we went with the prix fixe, which I'm having a hard time recalling in great detail, despite taking photos. I think drinking on an empty stomach before dining can exacerbate this memory problem. It is interesting to see the food all together in this fashion, as it's clear that there's a distinct color palette being employed.

Pomegranate seeds, roe and shrimp	Mixed ceviche
Shrimp, manchego empanada, pineapple bell pepper relish, chile chipotle vinaigrette	Squash soup with amazing huitalacoche wonton and epazote
Shrimp, calamari, scallops, octopus and cilantro rice with achiote-coconut sauce	This was James's and I'm not 100% sure which fish and preparation he had
a messy (yet tasty) panna cotta	pineapple and mango sorbet

Pampano * 209 E. 49th St., New York, NY

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Feb 9

Outback Steakhouse

Maybe it's the 44 ounces of Foster's talking, but this eerie Midtown Outback totally rules (sorry, no rules, just right). I've been eyeing this branch ever since I started a new job across the street from their take out window. There's something absurd about advertising curbside service ("no rules just right to your car") in a city where no one drives. But then there's something absurd about an Outback Steakhouse on the cusp of the Upper East Side, too.

Nothing pleases me more than the absurd so I was thrilled to finally pay this anomaly a visit. The most glaring difference between this Outback and every other one I've ever been visited, is that there wasn't a wait. In fact, half the tables were empty (though there was a minor male dominated happy hour scene at the bar) I've waited over 60 minutes in Edgewater for the privilege of a seat. This lack of large families with toddlers crowding the entrance was unnerving. Of course the prices are all a couple bucks higher ($8.95 Bloomin' Onion as opposed its $6.96 New Jersey counterpart), but that's the price you pay for NYC class.

To be honest, I'm not fanatical about steaks, meat is meat (well, Peter Luger is pretty convincing). I just like the rigmarole and side dishes. I never know which cut to order and really I don't know how much it matters. I ultimately went with a 9-ounce center cut filet, medium rather than my preferred medium-rare because even ordering medium gives the waiters conniptions. I'm sure it's part of their training, but they insist on explaining what medium means, emphasizing that there will be some pink in the middle like they're trying to scare you up a doneness notch. I don't think they're even allowed to serve anything prepared rare.

So yes, the steak was meaty. And after filling up on onion loaf, a peculiar dressing-heavy blue cheese chopped salad (I only ordered it because I never realized you got a choice besides the standard Caesar) bread and butter and a giant mug of beer, I only had room for half of my filet and chunky mashed potatoes. I don't think I've ever tried dessert at Outback. I'm not even sure what they offer–oh, that's right, The Chocolate Thunder from Down Under, duh. Maybe I'll get really wild and stop in for the disturbingly named hot fudge brownie sundae some night after work.

Outback Steakhouse * 919 Third Ave., New York, NY

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Jan 26

Adrienne’s Pizza Bar

1/2

There are those nights when food hardly matters. Admittedly, they're rare
for me, but have been occurring with greater frequency since starting a new
job (where a weird coworker informed me that someone who used to do my job
"went down to a size 4 from stress" Uh, was that a threat or a promise?)
where by 6pm I feel more like a stiff drink than a satisfying meal.

My visit to Adrienne's occurred on one of those Thursday nights. I barely
remember how my food tasted. I didn't even touch the bread and olive oil set
out to start, and I'm never one to shun fat and carbs. This was evening so
it was all rounds, not the square pies they're better known for (to be
honest, I'm a little afraid of the square slice). We split a salad with
roasted red peppers and sun-dried tomatoes, and a prosciutto and arugula
pizza.

The whole Financial district, boisterous men in suits atmosphere doesn't
lend itself to relaxation. I felt edgy and watched while squeezed into our
small two-seater with the precariously placed pizza stand and jumble of
small plates. I would hardly write Adrienne's off as a bust, but I would be
more likely to go again for lunch rather than dinner.

Adrienne's Pizza Bar * 54 Stone St., New York, NY

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Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Saigon Banh Mi So 1

Despaña

Sigiri

Tia Pol

Tehuitzingo Deli

5 Ninth

Son Cubano

Pampano

Outback Steakhouse

Adrienne’s Pizza Bar

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