Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Dec 9

Yagura

1/2 Sometimes addictions creep up on you. I was initially attracted to Cafe Zaiya as a lunchtime destination at my new midtown job. It's bright, shiny, bustling, and heck there's a Beard Papa stand inside. But a few storefronts closer to me is no frills Yagura. There's a small Japanese grocery store in back, sparse, elevated seating to your immediate right, then the main event to your left, a bustling counter with perpetual lines.

Katsu, teriyaki, noodle soups…I'm not sure what the main draw is, but I always stick with the $4.50 chicken udon and have never been disappointed. Initially, it seemed straightforward, nothing special, but now I'll find myself thinking about it and looking forward to running across the street for a fix. The broth helps, it's very rich and flavorful (is that dashi?) and the noodles are thick and perfectly chewy. The chicken, usually five large chunks or so, has the skin on, making the whole bowl of soup tasty and probably too fatty for some. The best is when you get pieces where the skin is still crispy, the meat seems more fried or broiled than stewed, and maybe that's the secret.

Yagura* 41st St., New York, NY

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Dec 7

Mermaid Inn

1/2

Now that high concept spots like Lure Fishbar, Bar Tonno and ten million
others have turned seafood into low carb crudo, its only fitting that I,
always behind the curve, finally try Mermaid Inn, part of the New England
clam shack craze of 2003. Yes, loving french fries, breading and things
served on buns, is so last year.

The upside of avoiding the trendier restaurants until no one cares about
them anymore is that long waits for tables arent as major of an issue. It
was also early, 6pm on a miserably rainy weeknight, which I'm sure
contributed to the desolate feeling inside. Though it wasn't helped by being
seated in the woody carpeted empty back room that truly did look like it
belonged in a small-town Elks lodge. Maybe its cozy and fun when its filled,
but it felt perturbing when a couple other twosomes were seated in the
warmer, more ambient main space. I'm not usually a nitpicker like this,
maybe the foul weather had dampened my soul in addition to my head and feet,
but it also rubbed me the wrong way when out waiter called me
“maam.” It's one thing coming from a bagboy type teen, but quite
another from a gentleman who couldnt be more than five years younger than
me. It was off-putting. And James though it was irritating that they only
list wines on the menu. I kind of agree, given the urban/downhome vibe beer
wouldn't be totally outrageous.

Perhaps my expectations arent well defined, its not as if I grew up with
coastal traditions (despite being raised barely more than an hour from the
Pacific Ocean), but I'm often disappointed with seafood restaurants. They
always seem blah and overpriced. Now that I think about it, fish prepared in
non-Asian styles kind of bores me, and any battered and fried sea creature
(except soft shell crab) gives me stomach trauma.

My grilled dorade stuffed with lemon slices, thyme and cloves of garlic
was rustic and tasty, very Naked Chef, but it wasn't terribly exciting. And
I'm pretty sure the thick slice of bread that sat under our sardine and
tomato-avocado relish was charred, not toasted. I mean, the crust was black
and peeling off. The free chocolate pudding that ends the meal is a nice
touch, though. Or maybe my memory is being clouded by the concept of
complimentary treats. In any case, I expect to report on hot raw fish
trend–I don't know–sometime in early 2006.

Mermaid Inn * 96 Second
Ave., New York,NY

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Nov 29

‘inoteca

I'd just gotten over a week-long severe stomach illness and was ravenous,
and strangely my normal food cravings were totally absent. Not wanting any
form of Asian food isn't like me. I feared my body had gone through some
bizarre realignment after barely eating for seven days when I found myself
wanting either German, English or Italian cuisine. I think it was their
perceived heartiness that was appealing.

I love the idea of lots of little things, but invariably small plates
leave me eating leftover Thanksgiving turkey a couple hours later. We
should've ordered at least four things, but I felt like we were being capped
at three, like that's when the waitress seemed satisfied with our choices.
But then, I'm self-conscious about things like eating alone in public (which
I wasn't) and looking gluttonous (which I am), so maybe I was being
hypersensitive.

I'm bad with Italian food, seriously, pardon my ingredient ignorance,
but I'm going with English terms. The first thing that came from the kitchen
was a warm brussels sprout salad with pancetta, a soft white cheese shaved
into squiggles, and a balanced vinaigrette (I'm not a fan of severe
tanginess). We also shared a special of lamb that came sliced and was
surrounded with a sweet/savory chutney, and prawns wrapped in prosciutto.
The prawns might've been my favorite, though all of it was quite tasty. I
just could've eaten more, that's all. An accompanying polenta might've rounded
out the meal.

I never see celebrities, I'm not sure if its because I don't pay attention
to my surroundings or that I don't frequent their lairs. And oddly, whenever
I do spot one there's a Coen brother connection. Not too long ago Tim Blake
Nelson sat next to us at Lombardis. This evening Frances McDormand and two
gentlemen were seated at the table across from us. They came after us and
left before we did, so obviously they were fine with eating even less food
than we did, or else they're really fast eaters.

'inoteca* 98 Rivington St., New
York, NY

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Oct 29

Suenos

1/2

I swear the older I get the more susceptible I become to suggestion. For the
past couple years I've meant to check out bakeries offering Day of the Dead
treats, and every year I'm either distracted or forgetful. This is pretty
sad considering three of these years I lived in one of NYCs largest Mexican
neighborhoods, Sunset Park. It wasn't until I read a recent
Manhattan-centric New York Times round up of restaurants with special Day of
the Dead menus that I became motivated to take an interest.

For no particular reason I'm kind of so-so on upscale Mexican
restaurants, not that I've tried that many of them. But Suenos had always
sounded interesting to me, maybe because of the youngish female chef. This
was really an excuse to try a new-to-me restaurant that I'd probably never
get around to otherwise. The whole thing was last minute, James called
Friday afternoon for seating that same evening, which was why we ended up
with such an early reservation. Dining at 6pm on a Friday in Manhattan makes
you a weirdo, I know that, but sometimes you have no choice.

We chose from the prix fixe menu with drink pairings. I had seafood
tacos with ancho chile tortillas and a more standard margarita (as opposed
to Jamess “smoky” version that accompanied his duck flauta. I
didnt think there was anything wrong with the waitress emphasizing the
tequilas smokiness though James seemed to find this hilarious and
pretentious) and pork loin stuffed with apples, canela, pine nuts, and
salsa, paired with sangria. Dessert was the only course that actually
included one of the traditional items I was interested in, but it was so
heavy: toasted day of the dead bread, candied pumpkin seeds and chocolate
atole with crema de mescal. It wouldve made a nice breakfast. I was glad to
have sampled the cuisine, I enjoyed the meal, though next year there will be
no excuse for not branching out.

Suenos* 311 W. 17th St., New
York, NY

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Sep 26

El Malecon

Not that I'm an expert on Washington Heights Caribbean food, but I'd never heard of this place before. It seems to have a loyal following and was suggested for my New York Post piece on the best Latin chicken. So, include it I did.

El Malecon * 4141 Broadway, NewYork, NY

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Sep 26

El Mundo

This place is confusing. Fried chicken is a part of their name, yet fried chicken doesnt appear to be in the restaurant. Not that they dont like to fry every other morsel of meat. Chicharrones, and all sorts of crispy bits are on display. But I had to eat rotisserie chicken since that was the name of the game with my New York Post piece on the best Latin chicken in NYC. The pollo was fine, but I really wanted that fried pork.

El Mundo Fried Chicken * 4456 Broadway, New York, NY

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Sep 10

Angon

1/2

Sometimes you feel cursed. Mina, the Bangladeshi chef who used to (wo)man
the kitchen at her namesake restaurant in Woodside, has moved to the Sixth
St. Indian strip in the East Village. I only tried Mina once and it was a
little traumatizing (though mostly because I became violently ill
immediately after eating, which seemed too soon to be poisoning related to
that meal. I had to attribute it to earlier street cart cakes from Sunset
Parks Chinatown).

But Angon is a totally different restaurant with the same enthusiastic
following. I had high hopes, but once again peripheral circumstances threw
the whole evening off. It was hot, I was cranky and argumentative (it was
Friday and I'd already had a few drinks) and James and I started clashing
over everything without reason. The big rift came when our waitress
misunderstood James while he was ordering. I cant even remember what the
dish was, a lamb curry of some sort, and the menu said it was hot. I think
the waitress pointed out that it was hot but in a garbled ESL way because
she thought James was asking if it was hot. We were hoping that it was.

She became convinced he hated hot food (and possibly her) and we were
unable to rectify our orders heat level. (Sometimes I feel like I have the
worst time communicating. There was this period in the mid-‘90s where
every single time I'd ask for Camel Lights, the clerk would give me Camel
Wides. I practically had to practice enunciating the word lights.) James and
I started spatting over who created the confusion, and I don't even know
what else. From this point on, the meal and the rest of the evening were
going to suck. The damage had been done.

One of the things with Angon, and Mina previously, is how the food
supposedly isnt watered down for Americans, but that you really need to
emphasize you want spiciness. So no, our food wasn't incendiary, though it
was tasty. The fish kofta was good, as well as the samosa chat, which is
practically a meal in itself. I'm afraid that I'm just not meant to be a
member of the Mina-loving club. Not that shes ever done anything to me
personally. But both affiliated restaurants have been settings for odd
situations.

Angon on the Sixth * 320 E. Sixth St., New York, NY

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Aug 21

Shun Lee Palace

Shun Lee Palace is a total time warp, though not quite nostalgic. It
probably wouldn't be unless you were an Upper East Side Jew with a taste for
expensive, not very authentic Chinese food circa 1976. This was one of those
out of the blue dining ideas James gets every now and then. I'd never had
any inclination to visit the place, but he had gotten it in his head that we
needed to try upscale Chinese food.

But I think he was thinking banquet food that Chinese people themselves
would actually eat, not overpriced renditions of Chinese-American fare. Not
that we didn't have a good time. In fact, it was a gas. Shun Lee is a weird
scene that I could appreciate, even if it scared me a bit. While the dcor
is opulent early '90s, the vibe is totally '70s. At our 9pm seating, the
room wasn't terribly full, but the clientele we did eyeball had
personalities big enough to fill the room. There was a nice combo of
caricatures, tourists, wealthy foreigners, and the inexplicably curious like
us.

I was a little unnerved by how they make couples sit side-by-side at
tables facing out towards the room. We've always made fun of twosomes who
choose to next to each other while eating instead of just facing each other.
But we had no choice in this situation. In a way, we were lucky because we
had equally good views of the goings on. I'mmediately to our right, were two
cranky, over-the-top, 60-ish women who were apparently regulars, highly
demanding and totally of a New York I do not know (nor want to). Like they
get together every Saturday night and kvetch (did I just say kvetch?)
about their kids, exes and dead parents, then harass the waiter because they
were told there'd be an eel special and there wasn't.

To our right and down the row was a creepy, troll-like older Indian
gentleman and his much younger, serene Eurasian lady friend. They didn't
really talk, and they also were grumpy, she let the waiters know that he
didn't like fish. A few young-ish white bread couples seemed dazzled by the
ambience. One took photos of her food (I know "photoblogging" is all the
rage, but I just can't abide snapping pictures in restaurants. Maybe that's
an issue of my own) while the other duo ate quickly then paid with
traveler's checks (I didn't know that people even used those anymore).

My favorite table included a dapper Telly Savalas look-alike in a
yachting type sport jacket with a middle-aged woman wearing a bold-patterned
turban scarf and big, tinted frameless glasses. Very Cosmopolitan,
thirty years ago. She could play a rich eccentric on an episode of
Rhoda.

I was impressed by the carved daikon swans that certain tables received
as garnishes (we didn't get any fancy frills). The food, not so much. We had
slippery chicken, which is chopped chicken with spinach in a garlicky sauce,
and curry prawns, which were swimming in a curry powder, peanutty gloop. I
actually liked the gloop, it was studded with things like peas, water
chestnuts and red pepper. James insisted it also contained creamed corn,
which is ridiculous. I also had a hot and sour fish soup, which was what it
sounds like.

We barely made it out under $100, which is why this isn't the sort of
novelty meal you can do on a regular basis. And that's why the idea of
regulars and eating Shun Lee takeout is so bizarre to me. Do people just not
get out? Once you enter the uptown vacuum, do you lose all sense of right
and wrong? People love Seinfeld reruns and Woody Allen flicks, so
maybe I'm the one whos warped.

ShunLee Palace * 155 E.
55 St., New York, NY

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Aug 6

Galanga

I reviewed Galanga for the Time Out NY Eating & Drinking Guide earlier this
spring, but I don't have the edited version yet and don't feel the need to
rehash. (Here
it is.) So, the consensus was that it's stylish, full of potential and
better than your average Ameri-Thai. But you really have to ask for spice
and not let the presence of chopsticks put you off (that has always been a
serious red flag for me). I wouldn't go out of my way for it, like
Sripraphai, but I'd take it over the gazillion mediocre Thai places plaguing
my neighborhood (which isn't the W. Village, so I've only been three times).

Galanga * W. Fourth St., New York, NY

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Jul 26

Kittichai

This year I was lucky enough to have my formal birthday dinner at brand new uber-chic Thai restaurant, Kittichai. I don't really have a strong desire to eat at of-the-minute, trendy and intimidating restaurants (like Spice Market, which I did for James's birthday in May), but I do like trying innovative and/or upscale takes on S.E. Asian food because I'm crazy fixated on the cuisine and use special occasions to check out what's going on at the higher end of the spectrum.

I wasn't so concerned about the scene (apparently, it has been closed on Sundays so people like Alek Wek can throw parties), but had read an article in an Oct. 2003 Saveur about Bangkok chefs including Ian Chalermkittichai, who is the chef at this Soho restaurant using half his surname. I was fascinated by the idea of a Thai celebrity chef (in Thailand, I mean) and that he was the first-ever Thai executive chef (as opposed to the usual European choices) at a Bangkok five-star hotel, the Bangkok Four Seasons. (What I havent been able to figure out is why Jean-George took the name Spice Market for his MePa [I'm joking, I'm joking, like I'd ever seriously acronym Meatpacking District] restaurant, when that name is already used and associated with one of the restaurants in the Bangkok Four Seasons. I didnt have a chance to try it, having reached my quota for fancy dining with Blue Elephant and Celadon) Plus, his recipe for poo khai kem, a take on Singapore chile crab, peaked my interest. It's not the sort of Thai food you really get in NYC, so I was curious.

I was pleased to sample their cocktail of calamansi juice (I told you the fruit was going to be the It citrus of 2004), coconut milk, Grand Marnier and Skyy vodka. It was tart and creamy without being cloying. A very refreshing summer cooler. And I'm still not sure what the difference between tapas and appetizers is. The prices are similar and the portions seem close as well. We tried a tapa of Southern Thai ceviche with diver scallops, caviar and lemongrass in an egg nest, which while tasty didnt really highlight the scallop. It was more tangy and eggy. The crispy rock shrimp, grilled eggplant with chili lime appetizer was right on. My entre of short ribs in green curry was a nice choice. It was traditional in a good way, while using an atypically Thai cut of meat. James chose the special of dorado, which was cubed, dusted in tempura batter (they made the point of saying it was dusted, not heavily coated) and presented between the head and tail with a sweet chili sauce. I loved the accompanying fried basil and lime leaves, but then, I'm a sucker for fried herbs (or fried anything, really). For dessert we shared the kaffir lime tart with coconut ice cream and palm sugar syrup, which was enjoyable. The grated lime rind (I think that's what it was) added a nice punch of color to the little rectangle.

I thought the food was to be served family-style, this is what I'd heard, and we were both given small plates before our food arrived. But when it came to the table, our plates were removed untouched and the large bowls were placed in front of us, according to whom had ordered what. I wouldve preferred to share, though this seems to irk some people.

None of the food is terribly spicy, despite the slinky waitstaffs unnecessary warnings. And thats where I'm unclear. I'm not sure how upscale Thai food is supposed to be spiced. I know people have the tendency to equate authenticity with heat level, but not every dish is meant to eat the glaze off its artfully crafted ceramic plate. I felt disappointed with much of the fine hotel food we ate in Bangkok, it seemed tame, and one of our waitresses at Celadon confirmed that the menu was "for tourists." (Though that didnt stop a table of Middle Eastern men to choke and yell for water.)

The most amusing aspect of the evening (apart from James sharing the rest room with Mario Batali) was being seated next to the May/December table. First, it was the classic couple: a 50-ish guy with a super tiny, large breasted, early-20s blonde who drove me nuts because she called the kaffir lime key lime. They were replaced by German equivalents. They were more subtle, the Euro female had simple, chin length brown hair and minimal makeup (and thankfully since she wasn't speaking English I couldn't deduce if she was mangling the pronunciation of ingredients). She was wearing a ribbed white tank top that covered her up to her collarbones instead of a low-cut lacy camisole top like the other trollop, but after sneaking a few glances, I did note that it was quite snug and that she also had quite large breasts in proportion to the rest of her body. It must be nice to have a sugar daddy to woo you through costly coriander and lemongrass concoctions. It sucks that that my much older boyfriend never, ever ate (seriously, he had some intestinal problem–the guy had a 27" waist).

Kittichai * 60 Thompson St., New York, NY

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