Jul 25
So, I wrote a few things elsewhere recently.
Read about OddFellows Ice Cream on Real Cheap Eats. I love the miso cherry butterscotch. I also need to go back for a sundae.
And Wok to Walk, a Dutch stir-fry chain just appeared in Times Square (and used to be near NYU). It's no great shakes, but office workers mobbed it opening week just the same.
The founders of Australian SumoSalad must not read The New York Times because they think Americans lack healthy lunch options like
salads. If the chain wants to get with it, it should really consider chopping these
piles of lettuce, chicken, egg and avocado up instead of giving them names like
Man Salad.
I would say that standing-only restaurants must be a Japanese thing, but then that wouldn't explain tapas bars as actually experienced in Spain. No matter, by year's end NYC will likely have an Oreno Kappo, just one of many in a chain of standing restaurants from the Tokyo-based Ore no Corporation.
London wouldn't be the first international location for
Fatty Crab (that would be Hong Kong) though it seems to be the first non-US
branch under the new partnership with restaurateur Stephen Starr. I'm most
interested in what the "city-specific menus" might entail. Banh mi on baps, I hope.
As soon as Manhattan receives a Fatburger, so does Istanbul.
Pollo Tropical opening in the Dominican Republic doesn't seem so odd considering it's a
Caribbean-themed chain anyway.
The last time I saw a grasshopper on a paper placemat
cocktail menu in an NYC restaurant was at Stingy Lulu's. That was the '90s and it
was meant to be kitsch. The last time I tried ordering a grasshopper was at
Jade Island and it was a no go. The Staten Island strip mall tiki bar traffics
in a very narrow range of kitsch that doesn't include creme de menthe.
Of course The Butterfly's version is a $16 Eben Freeman creation so it's made with fun
things like pandan extract and Branca Menta. Or so I've read. I didn't even end
up trying it, despite that being my
original aim. It's the lounge/supperclub dichotomy. And considering the bar was
at capacity but there were plenty of open tables on the early side of a
weeknight, the people have decided it's a bar, not a supperclub.
A highbrow grasshopper only makes sense if you're
stopping by for a drink (or treating it as a dessert). I'm still not fully on
board with the new era of $15+ drinks, so if I order one or two I want the
focus to be on the drink not convoluted with fried or heavy food.
I did try a brandy old fashioned sweetened with oleo-saccharum,
though, while deciding what to eat. And then moved on to beer, Birra Morini
Lager from Wisconsin, which seemed wrongheaded even if it was more sensible.
The shrimp toast wasn't radically reinvented. In
fact, it would be right at home at Jade Island if the price were chopped in
half ($12 vs. $6.15).
The reuben croquettes, gooey with swiss, corned beef
and just a little sauerkraut, were more successful, partially because they felt
more substantial. The thousand island for dipping was unusually pink, even more
so than from a plastic bottle of Wish-Bone.
The patty melt was the underdog hit. I realize the
only thing separating a melt from a burger is really the bread, but I want a
bun, plus toasted rye is for reubens. But because the meat–rare, dry-aged with
that deep steak-y flavor–was so good, none of the idiosyncrasies mattered. Strangely,
I didn't even notice the cheese (strange because I'm a sucker for melted
cheese). The caramelized onions stood out more and combined with the
distinguished beef, started veering toward Minetta Black Label Burger territory
(turns out it's a White Label blend from Pat LaFrieda so that makes sense).
After trying the patty melt, "Moby Dick,"
the filet o' fish, couldn't even compete.
This is where the grasshopper would logically fit if
you insisted on both drinking and eating.
The Butterfly * 225 W. Broadway, New York, NY
First engagement at our restaurant tonight!! Big big hugs and tillyke from the BROR team!!! pic.twitter.com/sTTRmn9PbH
— B R O R (@restaurantbror) July 21, 2013
No word on whether kelp, rhubarb, pine or ramps were involved in the proposal. If it were up to me, I would've had the ring slipped onto a duck neck.
I independently came to the conclusion that Waterman's
is the closest real Chesapeake crab-eating experience to NYC, which was later
reinforced by the Road Food message board. You still have to drive nearly 200 miles for
the experience, though.
By real I don't even mean that the crabs are local;
most, maybe all, of the Maryland crab houses get their bounty from Louisiana
and Texas, at least part of the year. It's the Eastern Shore style, served
outdoors, on the water, at picnic tables (though the windowless bar room is
equally authentic, especially in Baltimore).
The crabs come crusted in salty,
piquant Old Bay with vinegar, extra Old Bay, and melted butter for dipping.
You
get to choose the size of your crabs, all the way from mediums to jumbos with
larges and extra larges in between, if they have them, and pay accordingly by
the dozen. NYC crabs are never larger than medium. Picking crab is fussy
business; you'll starve messing with mediums.
Hushpuppies are the starch of choice. Dip them in
more butter.
Crab pretzels, cheesy crab dip baked onto pretzel
bread, came on the scene some time ago. Admittedly, it's kind of gross when it's
over 90 degrees and you're sweating. Crab dip served with saltines is more
traditional.
A pitcher of beer is necessary. I'd never seen this
bag of ice trick before.
Then you can move onto Rum Runners, Jaeger bombs or
whatever special is advertised at the adjoining bar where 85% of the clientele
is at least 40, smokes and tanned to a beef jerky brown. My current bleached
blonde hair made me feel like I fit in a little big, but my skin's ghosty hue gave me away
as an intruder.
Waterman's Crab House * 21055 Sharp St., Rock Hall, Maryland
New York Fries, which doesn't exist in New York–or anywhere in the US–will be opening two shops in Istanbul shortly. The Candian chain is no stranger to cross-cultural items; butter chicken poutine is already a menu standard.
There is a 10-seat French-ish restaurant in Tokyo called Fort Greene.
Next year Pakistan will likely get its first Burger King.
The Maldives already got their first taste of Whoppers.
2014 will also see McDonald's arriving in Vietnam.
Japanese robata grill, Inakaya, is expanding to India. Apparently, I work one block from NYC's Inakaya and had no idea. I've always been anti-restaurant week, but maybe?
Parisian wine bar and bistro, Racines, hopes to be in Tribeca by year's end.
There was recently a franchise expo in NYC and there was Bolivian interest in WingZone and Bangladeshis wanting to transport Subway to the Indian subcontinent.
Nitehawk Cinema A lot of melted cheese was consumed
in a one-week period. I ordered the queso tots thinking this was some new unexplored
treat then remembered I’d ordered the exact same thing on my last visit to the
theater. Menu memory lapse happens far more often that I'd like to admit. So, how about that Frances Ha?
Taco Chulo I also eat at Taco Chulo more than I'd
like to admit. It's never my idea, but it's a block from my apartment and seems
to appeal to picky eaters. If you love processed cheese like I do and can deal
with brunch on occasion, the queso benedict an underdog surprise. Velveeta
instead of hollandaise, sweet toasted cornbread in lieu of English muffins, and
enough spinach and slaw to give the dish a health halo. Save one half and eat it for
dinner once you emerge from your afternoon Bloody Maria stupor.
Artichoke Basille's The fabled artichoke cheese dip slice has
certainly garnered a lot of attention since it appeared in 2008. Yet it was
only when I noticed an outpost at the Aquaduct casino that I felt compelled to
try it. It's heavy, for sure, and best consumed in a temperature controlled
environment like a casino food court, otherwise all that warm fat and starch
loses its appeal in 90-degree heat.
Waterman's Crab House Sweat and melted cheese not mixing was
the lesson I learned while tearing into a crab pretzel (crab dip baked onto a
pretzel roll is very much a relative of the Artichoke pizza) on a dock
overlooking the Chesapeake Bay while being blasted with the sun's ray, despite
the table umbrellas. I'd still order the massive appetizer again, though. I
prefer the more demure Phillip's version that you can get a rest stops on the
drive to Baltimore.
Pat's and Geno's A pit stop was made on the way back from
Maryland for more unnaturally colored liquid cheese. This was the greasiest
cheesesteak I've ever experienced (and I've experienced quite a few in my time)
and not really in an endearing way. I've always been partial to Pat's, though,
because it's less flashy. Geno's version was consumed for breakfast the
following day and not photographed. The only reason why Pat's was eaten on the
spot and Geno's was saved for later is because Geno's gives bags and Pat's does
not.
Help. I just bought a 12-pack of Kraft Deluxe
American slices at C-Town when there are perfectly nice real cheese shops
within walking distance.
There was that Ocean Spray brainstorming scene in
the last season of Mad Men where the descriptor "sour" was ditched
for the more pleasing "tart." Sour isn't necessarily a bad thing, of
course, and it had better not be for you if dining at Luksus is in your future.
The opening menu and beer pairings really play with the puckery end of the flavor spectrum.
The menu was $75, beer inclusive ($45 for pairings
after hard opening) which was a good deal, if not a little confusing because
with so much palate/palette misuse, I couldn't be sure if
"complementary" used in the reservation email meant well-matched or
free. It was both, as it turned out.
You begin with three snacks brought in succession,
no utensils; the first to appear is a ham chip (definitely more accessible than
Aska's blood cracker) coated in powdered vinegar. Salty and tangy, yes? And
wow, with a Berliner Weisse to really make a point. (I really want to Torst to
get on the homemade woodruff syrup.)
Dulse is an algae, if you didn't know. I would've
pegged the flaky squares to have been made with a mung bean or green pea flour
since they tasted more terrestrial. Marine-based crackers made sense paired with
the mussel fluff, though. Chopped pickled vegetables added more texture (and
tartness).
The roasted beets and carrots with an egg cream were
more straightforward and had a bitter finish.
Warm sourdough bread came sort of as its own course,
tucked into what looked like a denim pant leg while the Outback Steakhouse song
played (well, the original Of Montreal version).
Radishes sitting in a cucumber broth were the focus
(my very unhelpful notes say "sour not tart"). I'll admit that I
wasn't sure what role the bone marrow played. Initially, I thought the pinkish
translucent nubs were the marrow, but I suspect those was the razor clams.
The leafiest course was meatless–at least
overtly–but robust. The little gem lettuce was charred (I do like all the
sooty burnt flavors that seems to be a Nordic hallmark) creating a presence
that didn't get overpowered by the maitake and slow-cooked yolk.
Lamb breast, rosy and fatty, was a solid main with a
lot of intrigue. Sometimes this style of food can be overly austere for my
taste, and that really wasn't the case at Luksus. Thinly sliced sunchokes and
ribbons of lamb tongue formed a little salad in the middle that had a mustardy
flavor hit with mint. I knew that hay was going to have to appear somewhere,
and I suspect that was the source of the black splotches.
When I posted a horrible Instagram pic of this on
Facebook because I'm a horrible person, the burnt hay threw an acquaintance for
a loop, reminding me that these ingredients and preparations aren't immediately
accessible. I mean, people still use arugula as a punchline. I had to explain
that, yes, it was hay not "hay." I do wonder how this style will
trickle down to the mainstream. Maybe more wild leaves and herbs tossed into
salads? More vegetable-based broths? Less reliance on meat for impact? Seaweeds,
lichen and barks have a ways to go.
The palate cleanser was the only thing I hated, and
I did not write than on my comment card because that's crazy subjective like
weirdos who don't like cilantro, coconut or blue cheese. I really can't deal
with pine flavors (maybe too much Northwest upbringing) so spruce sorbet was
not for me (and spruce isn't even native to the region, so it's not exactly
making a case for local-ism). The menu says yogurt, but the third component was
a sorrel broth. Guess what sorrel tastes like? Oh, it's tart, all right. Even the blueberry gel was sour,
not sweet. My first thought, after the first bite was that Spain would never do
this to me. It certainly succeeded as a palate cleanser, however.
Pea ice cream is fine by me, though. The cool
sweetness worked with the beets, rhubarb and licorice flavors. It was paired
with a sharp apple-like lambic (technically a gueuze) topped with beet juice.
Ah, chocolate. This was a play on a traditional
Danish flodeballer and contained a brown butter cookie and a marshmallowy center flavored with strawberry cider, I think.
I liked Luksus, though I'm marginally biased since
I’m only one month post-Copenhagen and the food eaten there hasn't slipped my
mind yet. The cooking was strong for opening week with no real misfires (sorry,
spruce sorbet) despite the sour obsession; I'm sure it'll be refined with time.
I think it comes down to more of a matter of whether or not you dig this type
of thing–I'm more curious than fanatical–which will be important long-term
after the initial hype dies down.
Initially, I was thinking that the options for New
Yorkers to explore this trend seemed limited, but even three four (Luksus, Acme, and Aska–oh, and Aamanns will be introducing a New Nordic dinner menu next Wednesday) restaurants in this style tops
the number we have showcasing avant-garde Spanish cuisine, despite its longer
lifespan. Something about the rough-hewn, pared-down aesthetic (maybe we simply
like stark white walls, blonde wood, and bearded men?) just seems to mesh with urban-naturalist
NYC at the moment.
Luksus * 615 Manhattan Ave., Brooklyn, NY
I’ve been patiently waiting for this day to come, the ultimate I Do(nut) moment.
For example, there was the man who wanted to present his
fiancée an engagement ring inside a cronut. Unfortunately, they'd sold out by
the time he reached the front of the line. "He came back the next
day," Mr. Ansel marveled. "He was first in line. He delayed his
proposal because he wanted to get a cronut." [WSJ via Eater NY]
Doughnt Diamond Rings photo: sarahlouisematthews/etsy
Similarly to how interest generated by Bun-Ker has
nearly as much to do with its oddball location as the food (I'm partially
guilty), the dim sum at Genting Palace inside the aqueduct "racino" garnered
a spurt of attention when it first opened. I do love a novelty (and spending
warm summer days indoors) though sadly, the food is nothing more than average.
What it does have going for it is the $9.99
all-you-can-eat lunch special. I mistakenly ordered a la carte because I wanted
to try more than the limited greatest hits (shrimp dumplings, egg rolls, spare
ribs, etc.). This meant that it took an hour to get five dishes, one forgotten,
each one trickling from the kitchen with gaps in between because the focus is
on bringing out the cart periodically, not cooking to order.
Service is well-intentioned, in the pull out the chair,
place napkin on your lap variety (you won't be given chopsticks or tea automatically
if you're not Chinese; about 60% of the diners are) but harried and forgetful.
One table barked at a server after apparently waiting 20 minutes for ice cream.
It's classy. You can drink Chardonnay (or a blue
cocktail)…
…while gazing at the race track.
Rice rolls are always a good start and I didn't even
mind eating these with a fork since I've never mastered the art of cutting into
something slippery and dividing with chopsticks. These were filled with
barbecued pork and enoki.
The shrimp balls coated in black and white rice a la
porcupine meatballs were ok, if not a little dense.
Oddly, I've never had such a disconnect, even in
non-English-speaking establishments, between what I thought I was ordering and
what I got (well, except when I got flower petal Jello by mistake at Tim Ho
Wan). I accidentally ordered the same balls wrapped in fried taro strips. When
I read fried taro dumplings I imagined lacy, creamy lavender wu gok. I was so dismayed I forgot to take a photo.
We were steered away from beef tripe, simple,
steamed with ginger and scallions. It wasn't the chewy, fatty cut I expected,
but the stiffer white variety, omasum, you find in pho. Still likeable.
I almost just grabbed a steamer of pork buns off one
of the carts after giving up on their arrival. These were the fluffy split
top-style, and yes, I was craving something else, the sweet, shiny baked
version that I later noticed was listed incongruously with desserts like the durian
puffs and egg tarts. I wasn't about to ask for something different at this
point.
I wish I could've gotten the crab rangoon from the sports bar menu.
Clearly, I'm not much of a gambler. I came away with
16 cents (after losing $24.84).
Genting Palace * World Resort Casino, 110-00
Rockaway Blvd., Ozone Park, Queens
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