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Posts from the ‘Manhattan’ Category

Radio Perfecto

I'd met friends for drinks (well, beer and wine since they don't have a real
liquor license) here before and they didn't seem that impressed with the
food. Overpriced and small, or something along those lines. But I felt like
checking out Ave. B and this place seemed like the lesser of many evils.

I'll admit that the Cubano-style empanada starter was on the tiny side,
but nicely flaky and great with the tangy jicama (or whatever it was) slaw.
My roasted half chicken with pesto and fries was more than substantial. I
had leftovers galore. James insists the chicken pot pie was less than
filling, and then proceeded to order shrimp dumplings at Forbidden City like
45 min. later. It looked o.k. to me, but maybe the roast chicken was a
better choice. Topped with sangria and key lime pie, I thought the meal did
the trick. Nothing to write home about, but reasonably priced and not
completely blah as many east village choices.


RadioPerfecto * 190 Ave. B, New York, NY

Cosmic Cantina

Blech. Maybe this place is cosmic. I hesitate to call it a cantina (that
word always conjures up the kooky Star Wars scene). I do know it's certainly
not Mexican food. I only went because it's one of three new restaurants
that's popped-up on James' corner in the past few weeks, and it looked like
the one that would best lend itself to take-out–I wasn't up for anything
spendy, fussy or time consuming.

They can take their "California-style" burritos and shove 'em where the
sun don't shine. Any place with tofu sour cream, fat-free everything and
burritos with names like Sarah and Jessica, is wrong. So wrong. Beans
should be refried, and that means lard and plenty of it. There's no way
around it. Real burritos are fat-laden and that's why they're so damn good
(and impossible to find in this town).

It's clearly geared towards the NYU contingent who think it's cool to
blow $8 on a mediocre, supposedly healthy burrito and drink specially brewed
teas and the like. Wait till they're footing their own bills and it'll be
back to Hot Pockets and Diet Coke. (6/13/01)


Cosmic Cantina * 105 Third Ave., New York, NY

Friend House

I don't know what's going on at that condemned crack hotel corner of 13th
and 3rd, but all of a sudden there's three shiny new restaurants. There goes
the neighborhood. And as it's James's block, we were hoping for a winner we
could call our local.

Friend House certainly has the name. And who could resist the promise of
an "Asian bistro"? The makings are all there, complete with cute, funky
neo-Asian decor that youngsters dig. But darn it, the menu's pretty blah.
It's comprised of typical Chinese dishes with a sprinkling of Japanese
offerings. Well, the sushi bar might have promise–the eel and spicy tuna
rolls were interesting. I wanted to know if it was run by Chinese or
Japanese as an ordering clue. I'm hoping Japanese, because the greatest hits
like kung pao and moo shu weren't breaking any new ground. They had some
casseroles and hot pots, but I was hoping for something more along the lines
of Funky Broome. Where are the lychees? Boiled frogs? Taro roots? I can get
cashew chicken any ol' time. However. I'll probably give it another go and
sample more of the sushi. (5/25/01)

I liked it better this time. In fact I was pretty happy. Probably
because we stuck to small items like dumplings, sushi and mini Peking duck.
I'm a sucker for snack-sized portions in abundance. (3/2/02)


Friend House * 99 Third Ave., New York, NY

Vegetarian Paradise 3

This is one of those restaurants that sits quietly in Chinatown, never
crossing my radar. It'd only occur to me to pay a visit when my sister is in
town. Chinatown can be very meaty, really (not that I usually complain). I
agreed to check out this vegetarian place, and was especially tempted since
my quest that day was really to find the new Aji Ichiban candy store,
and it happened to be a few doors down. What luck.

The menu consists of lots of mock items, which I enjoy from time to
time. It's a brown rice sort of place with bottles of Braggs Liquid Aminos all over the place,
which cast this weird health food brainwashy cloud. The Braggs freak me out.

I had tofu prepared like sweet and sour pork, really tasty turnip cakes,
and a seaweedy soup. The $4.95 lunch special is quite a deal, but the
confusing part were the Chinese or American style choices. The only
difference appeared to be that American came with an eggroll. Was I missing
something?

Fill up on brown rice and liquid aminos, but save room for salted plum
and coffee cake flavored gummies at Aji Ichiban up the street.


Vegetarian Paradise 3 * 33 Mott St., New York, NY

Aiello’s

I heard Aiello's made their wings good and hot. I've got a high tolerance
for heat, but boy, this was no lie. They burned going in and…well, you
know the rest (I had a bit of a hard time the next day at work. Working
stiffs should only eat them on Fridays or Saturdays, and I guess you
telecommuters can eat them any damn time you feel like.


Aiello's * 383 Third Ave., New York, NY

Old Devil Moon

There's nothing remarkable about their dinners, but we're not discussing
that here. It's all about breakfast, a meal I rarely get up early enough to
eat in public. But when I do, I want something substantial, and Old Devil
Moon fits the bill to a tee. I've always been a staunch believer in biscuits and gravy,
and this is the best I've had in NYC. The omelets with country ham, and home
fries is also worth a try. The biggest problem is choosing between the
biscuit and sticky bun as a starchy accompaniment. And when the biggest
crisis of your day revolves around what bready item to eat, you know you're
in pretty good shape (emotionally, not physically).


Old Devil Moon * 511 E. 12th St., New York, NY

Cooper Square

I wouldn't mention this place at all, but a certain sandwich needs to be talked about. I was at a birthday party at Leopard Lounge across the street, and I noticed James kept peeking out the window. I guess he was dreaming of cheesesteaks and looking for nearby options. Now New York isn't a cheesesteak city anyway. I'm not even sure where you get one during the day, let alone at 3 a.m. Short of driving to Philly (which was tossed around as a viable option), we decided to take our chances on the closest 24 hour place.

When I saw a "New York Style" steak sandwich my curiosity was peaked, yet I knew I was in trouble. Whenever someone takes a regional specialty and puts their own spin on it, you know the results will be mixed. (When I was home last Sept., Ringler's Annex had "Portland Style Cheesecake" on the menu, which was baffling. I didn't order it, but I wondered all night what could possibly be Portland-like about it. Filberts? Marionberries? Salmon?!)

The New York style sandwich came out open faced with thickish long pieces of meat on hamburger buns with cheddar cheese melted on both sides and some onions strewn about. There was too much meat to close the thing, and the pieces weren't thin like I'd wanted. And to top it off, they appeared to be suited for a hoagie bun, not a round roll. It disturbed me. The oddest part was the bottle of HP Sauce that was brought to the table as an accompaniment. Philly cheesesteak by way of New York with a pit stop in England? What kind of freaks do they have working in that kitchen anyway? I did like getting to dip my fries in the brown sauce, but it just wasn't the sandwich I was craving.

Cooper Square Restaurant * 88 Second Ave., New York, NY

Cafe Mogador

Fridays are tough. I'm always tired and not up for much trekking around, but I don't want to eat at the same places all the time either. This means walking distance, and that means East Village, which usually means disappointment (though there are a shitload of Japanese places that I never try for no good reason). I rarely eat Moroccan food, not that I don't like it, I just always end up eating something else or catering to someone else's whim. This time I decided on Cafe Mogador.

The place was packed, the service was slow and somehow we got sandwiched between two tables of gay men, which made me wonder if there was something going on I didn't know about. But the prices were extremely reasonable, the food was above average and I liked how they had the menu menu with more traditional fare and the insert with interesting appetizers and eclectic specials. We got hummus and pita, and cumin seasoned kefta with eggplant and tahini for starters. I was impressed with the richness of hummus (but that could be because I'm always eating the store bought stuff for lunch that's all fluffy and low on flavor). For an entree I opted for the lamb tagine with apricots and prunes with couscous. I was torn between that and the bistilla because my favorite thing in the world is that sweet/meat combo. I think I chose right. James ordered hanger steak with a basalmic shallot sauce off the insert, which didn't seem right in a place like this, but that was OK.

Dinner passed normally. It wasn't until I came back from the bathroom that something seemed amiss. As it turned out, when the waiter brought the bill and postcard (for some reason they give postcards with the check), his name and number were written on the back. I mean, what gives? I thought James was joking at first, but really I wasn't all that surprised. The whole thing amused me to no end. The meal was overshadowed by the realization that people think my boyfriend is a gay man (I did the first time I met him). What's a girl to do? (4/6/01)

M-O-G-A-D-O-R. I had to spell the damn place out loud like three times so Jessica could tell Tanya where to meet us over the phone. And in typical OCD fashion Jessica went nuts asking where it was. I don't know, it's on St. Marks, probably between First and A, alright? Not good enough. Can't people just figure things out, or look in phone books anymore? After the millionth time of spelling the name and describing how to get there I noticed a young man in front of us pricking up his ears. In a strong accent, he asked, "What you want to know about Mogador? I work there, I tell you everything." What a crack up. I guess if you make a big enough, loud deal about something, someone's bound to come to your rescue. (11/12/02)

Cafe Mogador * 101 St. Marks Pl., New York, NY

B3

Closed: Huh, this is the first time I've become aware of a closing within 24
hours of the establishment actually shuttering its doors. Often months (or
even years) might pass before I realize a restaurant is no longer with us.
(6/7/05)

It's hard to give a well-rounded assessment since the only thing I've
ever eaten at this establishment is the B3 burger. James and a coworker
almost swear by it, but I'm not all that impressed. For one, it comes with
chips. Homemade chips, granted, so they're all fresh and crisp from the
fryer. But I don't like chips. I've got horrible eating habits and love junk
food, yet somehow I've never managed to develop a taste for chips, hot dogs
or soda. I wish I could say the same for sweets of all sorts and french
fries. I can't resist a fry, and call me a traditionalist but that's what
burgers should come with.

The B3 burger sounds good in theory: blue cheese and pepper bacon, but
the cheese is barely recognizable. If you're going to put that much extra
fat on a burger, it ought to be tasted. Oh, I've also had mussels, which
were perfectly fine. The weird part was when the waitress (who was crouching
next to the table–I hate it when they do that chummy stuff) asked, "are
mussels good for you?" and my first thought was that she must mean are they
high in fat because that's all girls seem to care about. So I told her they
were very low in fat, but she wanted to know about nutritive value, which I
was pretty clueless about. So mussels=fine, burger=passable. I'll have to
try something else next time, and I'm sure I'll be back since it's just one
of those places. (3/26/01)


B3 * 33 Ave. B, New York, NY

Meigas

I'd been wanting to try Meigas for while, and a birthday seemed like the
perfect occasion (I'd sort of hinted at it as a Valentine's Dinner option,
but I wasn't terribly forceful and consequently ended up at Churascarria Plataforma, which was perfectly fine, but
definitely in a different vein). I tend to eat out a lot, but it's not that
often that I go to places with entrees over $25. It's not the price so much
(well, sort of, I am a pretty big penny pincher), but my big phobia
is the wine list. I'm no oeniphile and I'm afraid it shows. But sometimes
you've got to throw caution to the wind. I'mpressions, who cares?

I'd seen a prix fix tasting menu on their website and got all excited
about crazy things like broccoli rabe gelato and veal flavored with charcoal
oil. I mean, what exactly is charcoal oil, and should it be on your food? I
had to find out. I'd also heard about a garish mural, so that was the first
thing I looked for when I stepped inside. It was hard to miss. The entire
back wall was painted in this out of perspective, naive style, complete with
a table of food coming out of the ocean as the main focus. The best part was
the nebulous witch flying down out of the clouds from the upper right. I
only regret being seated with the monstrosity to my back.

We happened to get the intimidating half-man/half-beast waiter that's
always in the photo accompanying Meigas
reviews
. He hands-down wins the award for freak-out factor. I'm not
referring to his massive facial hair, which is neither here nor there, he's
simply intense and scary as all get out. You find yourself painfully
straining as he quietly mutters under his breath without making eye contact.
He bosses and yells at the other waiters in gruff Spanish, and he lopes
around in this beastly manner, hunching and swinging his left arm vigorously
with some unknown purpose. I cracked myself up trying to imagine if the guy
ever loosens up. Would he ever do something mundane like ordering out
Chinese and watching "The Sopranos" with friends?

I was scared to ask about the tasting menu since it wasn't on the menu I
was handed, and got nervous when he explained that the chef can specially
make things and rattled some dishes off, which I could barely catch. I went
in knowing I wanted the suckling pig and the baby squid served in its own
ink, and I'm pretty sure those words crossed his lips, but I couldn't say
for certain. I wasn't 100% sure what I was getting myself into, but I agreed
to this arrangement. I was eager to see what delicacies would make their way
to the table, and I love surprises. But at the same time, I was kind of on
guard because I had no idea what the price was (though I was guessing
somewhere near $60 since $59 was listed on the site. It ended up being
slightly more, but not by much). My biggest fear was spending over $200 on a
meal that I would barely be able to chew or taste due to my wisdom tooth
pain and stuffed up nose (ultimately, I managed alright. Only the coconut
truffle gave me some trouble at the end).

Unfortunately, I can only piece together the courses, since I didn't
have a menu to go by and it wasn't always clear what what was being served.
Sometimes it was announced as it was brought, and other times I figured it
out when the plate was cleared and the words, "How was your such and such?"
were uttered. First tapas were brought out. Fussy and small, but good. My
favorite was a tiny, balled croquette of some sort. Then came a pequillo
pepper stuffed with what I thought he said was cod, but it didn't taste like
fish. This was my least favorite of the night, simply because I'm not a big
fan of peppers. I did like the micro-mini croutons scattered throughout.
Next came the white beans with mussels (just one mussel really), which was a
big hit. I never thought something so simple could taste so amazing. This
was James's favorite, and it was his birthday so that deserves a mention.
Then came the squid in its ink, intimidating in a bowl of opaque black
liquid. I wasn't sure if you were supposed to pick the squid out of it, or
enjoy the broth in a soup-like manner. When it came down to it, the flavor
was almost like clam chowder, though nothing of the Campbell's variety. I
ended up sopping the thick juices up with some of the bread (which was very
good–especially the sweet, nutty one), which was nice, but looked crazy
with the light/dark contrast. (Beware, any places your lips may be chapped
will become stained for the night.) After that came the pompano (a
FISH
, as the waiter emphatically told us) with saffron rice and little
paprika infused olive oil swooshes. The crowning glory was the suckling pig
with a honey and sherry vinegar glaze served on top of potato slices with a
sprig of rosemary on top. Perfectly crisp skin, succulent meat, though I had
a hard time discerning flavors among the orange, green and white dabs of
accompanying sauces.

I was excited by the desserts, but then I always get a little crazy
where sweets are concerned. A chocolate mousse with chocolate pieces was
fine, but I'm not a huge mousse lover. There was a spoon containing white
fluff, a coconut truffle and a glob of gelatin that I think was supposed to
be eaten in one bite (though I picked it apart) to meld the flavors. My
favorite was the most confusing. I originally thought there were four
desserts and that the mound of sour, freaky tasting walnuts were meant to
stand alone. It wasn't until I meshed them with the mini cheesecake covered
in red glaze (not sure of the flavor) and dipped it into the neon green pool
next to it that I realized its true beauty. When the chef, Luis Bollo, came
out to see how we enjoyed our meal (always a nice touch, and I noticed he
only did this with people ordering the tasting menu. There was a group of
men at the table next to us who were always one course behind us), I had to
ask about the dessert. It turns out the walnuts were mixed with apples,
gorgonzola and vinegar (I didn't catch what the fruit was in the
green sauce). What a combination, I was very impressed.

After dinner, we were treated to a sweet glass of Valencian muscatel
which I didn't realize was part of the meal. Oh, for the wine–I chose a
moderately priced Galician white. It was a worthwhile excursion for sure.
And since I noticed a sign in the window for a $20 lunch, it's pretty
certain I'll be back. (3/24/01)

Out of business, and have been for quite some time. but recently I've
been re-reminded of Meigas because Luis Bollo is now executive chef or
somethin Suba, a place I've never had any desire to visit. (10/2/02)

Hmm…I think Meigas has reopened in some form in Norwalk, CT. Odd.
(11/02)


Meigas* 350 Hudson
St., New York, NY