Goodies First

Nov 4

Soul Food Mahanakorn & Nahm

Some say that foreigners can't/shouldn't cook food that's
not their own, though arguments tend to be more specifically about white
guys appropriating Asian culture. (You don't hear so much dissent over
French-trained chefs of all nationalities. And really, about women like Naomi Duguid or Fuschia Dunlop because they are cookbook authors, not chefs, I imagine.) I believe that anyone can learn to
cook anyone's cuisine if immersed extensively (I wouldn't say a few weeks
in Vietnam counts) and just growing up with a cuisine doesn't make you an expert. A corollary might be gastropubs like Smith where Thai chefs have
no problem cooking scotch eggs or haggis.

Where you risk courting the most criticism is when
attempting to cook your non-native cuisine on its home turf. Like Andy Ricker
may get some shit over Pok Pok, but it's not as if he's an American running a
Thai restaurant in Thailand. Jarrett Wrisley is with
Soul Food Mahanakorn (well documented here) though he manages to sidestep drama
since he's more restaurateur than chef–and it doesn't hurt that the restaurant is pretty likeable.

Kill me, but I'd describe Soul Food Mahanakorn as the Pok
Pok of Bangkok (I'm shocked that Google only turns up two "the Pok Pok of…" hits–neither for Soul Food Mahanakorn) by which I mean that both are casual with decor that nods to Thai pop culture and serve a curated selection of dishes that are nearly
unbastardized, yet appeal to a specific western sensibility. That
translates to snacky small plates of organic, responsibly sourced wings, ribs
and sausages, and cocktails crafted with bitters and egg white cocktails, as
well as Thai aromatics and herbs. Nice.

Your typical all-in-one grapow with a runny fried egg, but using
roughly chopped lamb. This was particularly good because the meat had a little wok char.

Who wouldn't order a salad made of fried chicken? This yam
with all the requisite shallots, mint, lime, fish sauce and chiles, reminded me
of a similarly odd dish they used to made at more oddly named VIP@ Thai Cuisine in
Carroll Gardens. The Brooklyn version was served with the meat pulled from the
bone and tossed in and didn't have the green bean and cabbage garnishes. Both have their merits.

Pork belly and kale! This is what I'm talking about when I'm
talking about specific Western sensibilities. I wanted to see kale in a Thai context, except
that I'm fairly certain the kale mentioned on the menu was not the green that
arrived on my plate. This is Chinese broccoli and crispy pork, right?

* * *

Nahm is a different beast (and technically a chain since
there's an older Michelin-starred London location). This year it became the 50th
best restaurant in the world, which I know doesn't sound so impressive compared
to Spain's continued dominance of the single digits, but it's a feat for the
only Thailand entry.

The project of Australian chef, cookbook author and Thai
obsessive, David Thompson, Nahm is more of a classic fine-dining draw. I
suspect that the
average patron is not there to experience obscure ingredients or
lost-to-the-ages preparations, they just want to eat at a good looking
restaurant in a stylish hotel.

For instance, the similarly aged, Brooklyn-ish
(yes, kettle black) couple we were seated next to were
unfamiliar with, non-obscure mangosteen and durian, and ordered the latter because they
were charmed by its descriptor as "the king of fruit." Yes, they
learned a lesson (frankly, I don't get the big stink over durian–it's not that
foul) but I don't they were at Nahm to be schooled.

Expensive for Bangkok, but stellar value by NYC
standards, the 1700 baht ($55) set menu with five courses, each with vast choices (nam prik, soup, salad, curry and
stir-fry/steamed/grilled dish) plus desserts, is really the way
to go. After the amuse and canapes (above: smoked fish, peanut and tapioca dumplings; grilled chicken satay with peanuts and tart chili sauce; coconut cup cakes with red curry of crab;
spicy pork with mint, peanuts and crunchy rice on betel leaves) everything shows up at once,
Thai-style (which took me by surprise the first time I encountered it at Bo.lan, a similarly minded restaurant run by Thompson proteges).

The array is
both dazzling and overwhelming with portions that initially seem dainty but nearly
push you over the edge by the time the sweets arrive.

If I'm
giving the individual dishes short shrift (I am) it's because I always find
tasting menus daunting to blog about to the point that I just don't anymore
(not without weird OCD regrets–I'm still torn over not taking photos or
blogging about Reinstoff in Berlin, the only upscale meal I ate during last November's vacation). But I'd still like to
convey the style of food served.

The most memorable dish (with the least illustrative photo) or rather
seemingly incongruous group of dishes (we were trying to think of American
things that would be equally nonsensical together–chicken, waffles and syrup? Cincinnati
chili?) was a nam prik/relish that pushed the limits of sweet, fatty, fiery and
bitter. In front is mess of very spicy prawns and oysters, covered in shallots,
chiles and a floss of some sort. This was accompanied by a small dish of caramelized
nuggets of pork belly and a small deep-fried fish with raw vegetables and herbs
like long batons of almost menthol galangal. The intense flavor of the rhizome
made it very apparent why substituting ginger like Westernized recipes often recommend,
wouldn't work.

This is the kind of recipe that I would read about, want to eat, but wouldn't
even bother to attempt because of the steps involved. Eleven Madison Park: The Cookbook (a Christmas present from last year that admire but from afar) has nothing on 688-page Thai Food.

Soul Food Mahanakorn * 56/10 Sukhumvit Soi 55, Bangkok, Thailand

Nahm * Metropolitan Hotel, 27 S. Sathorn St., Bangkok, Thailand

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Nov 2

No Tex-Mex Eggrolls?

"Lunch was catered crew lunch from the Cheesecake Factory. I’m not a fan
of the Cheesecake Factory menu. Like, it’s authored by Tolstoy, it’s so
long. I find it maddening. However, I do think that the food is pretty
good. We had chicken potstickers, shrimp spring rolls, teriyaki and
orange chicken, and red velvet cheesecake."

—Questionable humor aside, Mo Rocca's Grub Street Diet raises a very important question–Cheesecake Factory caters?

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Nov 1

How Not to Eat a Pork Chop Bun in Macau

Food-wise, Macau is known for egg tarts, jerky,
suckling pig and pork chop buns–at least those are my associations. On my
previous two visits to the former Portuguese colony Tai Lei Loi Kei's well-known pork chop
bun eluded me because it's one of those classic chowhoundish follies: off the
main tourist drag, super-specific hours, long lines and daily sell-outs. I
never made it over to Taipa Village.

Except that now the tourist-packed enclave abutts the ever-expanding
casino district, Cotai (a portmanteau of the two neighboring areas: Coloane and Taipa) that barely
existed when I was in Macau in 2008. It
also turned out that hallowed Tai Lei Loi Kei was right across the street (granted,
a major multi-lane thoroughfare) from the sprawling Galaxy complex where I
staying (and wasn't allowed to see the world's largest rooftop wave pool because of post-typhoon storms, not even a peek) an exemplary illustration of the collision of old and new/local
culture and Americanization that I enjoy so much. And yet I still did not get my
Tai Lei Loi Kei bun…

The internet is rife with misleading information (and not
just from trolly hurricane douches). Tai Lei Loi Kei hadn't closed and it
hadn't moved into The Venetian. Accuracy, people.

Uh, not yet, at least.

There was a Lord Stow's Bakery, however–another example
of a once small local business (selling egg tarts, in this case) getting modern
and mall-y. They also have branches in Japan, Korea and the Philippines.

The casino food court was highly impressive, though,
with the same false summer blue sky and gondola-filled canals as in Las Vegas–just a hell of a lot
bigger overall. Seriously. The biggest in the world with 546,000 square feet vs. Vegas'
measly 120,000.

Plus, there was a frat-free McSorley's that kind of
blew my American-brands-abroad-loving mind.

So, the morning before heading back to Hong Kong we
took the hotel's free shuttle bus to Taipa Village, which was, yes, just across
the street. They don't make it easy for pedestrians in a lot of modernizing cities,
which is why there was also a shuttle bus to The Venetian, across another
street on the other side. Maybe the oppressive humidity and sudden bursts of
rain also contribute to the aversion to walking? (Keep in mind that 99% of the tourists are Chinese, not the stereotypically lazy, blobby Americans everyone hates.)

Thinking I was shit out of luck on Tai Lei Loi Kei, original
spot shuttered and not yet open in The Venetian, I sought out San Hou Lei (one of
many other pork chop bun purveyors–they're not that scarce) and ended up with
a pork chop sandwich on crustless white bread instead. Language barriers, they are
legitimate.

There were some cute howling cats pacing in the front of the cafe, though (sadly, you can't see them with the window glare).

On the subject of cats, a souvenir-shopper down the street had a shirt that I wanted.

Not to be confused with a cat in a shirt I
encountered in Bangkok a few days later. But this is about Macau.

There was a curry pork chop bun stall along the main
shopping arcade with a name I couldn't read because it was only in Chinese.

The sandwiches couldn't be more simple: a thin grilled
pork chop, this version sprinkled with curry powder, on a Portuguese roll. I add chile oil to mine. Unlike the McRib, there are actually bones in the cutlet.

Next door was a cafe selling civet poop coffee. I
couldn't taste anything radical in this expensive $6 cup, but when presented
with the opportunity to try kopi luwak you must partake.

A container of beans cost the equivalent of $168. Pre-digested coffee does not come cheap.

After dawdling and trying two unintended pork
chops between bread, we realized we needed to get back to the hotel to catch a
shuttle to the ferry to make it to Hong Kong by 8pm (yes, pork chop buns are what caused me to miss my original reservation at The Chairman) and in the rush back
guess what we found, merely a block from the crosswalk (the only such
concession to walkers on the entire busy road) leading straight to The Galaxy? I would've gone on day 1 if knew it was so close (Google Maps couldn't find it).

Tai Lei Loi Kei, totally open, and well before 3pm,
the much publicized time when buns supposedly become available. Internet, you lie. Partially out of fullness
and a little out of spite and heat exhaustion, I didn't even bother buying one. At this point I was
over Tai Lei Loi Kei. I will never speak of Macanese pork chop buns again after this post.

Look,
a sign advertising a branch in The Venetian.

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Oct 31

The Chairman

The Chairman was nothing like I thought it would be.
That name, right? As pointed out in the Times' recent Yunnan Kitchen review, locally sourced,
organic products haven't been adopted by Chinese restaurants in NYC the way
that other cuisines have. The same is true in China, itself, and by extension, Hong
Kong.

So, when I read about free-range chicken from The
New Territories and soy sauce brewed in Kowloon, I pictured communal salvaged
wood tables, subway tiles and cocktail programs because I've been in Brooklyn
too long.

In reality, The Chairman is just a restaurant, a
little upscale, neither flashy nor run-down (crab art on the walls!) with good service (shockingly
affable for Hong Kong) slightly away from the hubbub of Long Fai Kwong at the
end of a quiet street with no outlet.

The absence of abalone and shark's fin on the menu
(they'll make them if you want them) also gave me pause, in a good way. I almost skipped The Chairman due to my ambivalence
about Cantonese food, particularly on the higher end. Status markers like the aforementioned
duo plus XO sauce and birds nests aren't for me, and the austere purity of a
double boiled soup or barely sweetened desserts teeming with legumes are above
my head. I can't appreciate a glossy arranged plate of mushrooms and bok choy
either.

Normally I hate over-explainers, but it was a
novelty for a Chinese restaurant. The service was unusual (they also accommodated a last-minute switch to Sunday night–many HK restaurants are closed on Sundays–when a travel snafu caused me to miss my original Saturday night reservation) in that our server,
an older gentleman with a British name, seemed genuinely excited about the
food, describing everything and being
helpful by suggesting half portions unprompted when we showed interest in items
that would've been too big for two.

We just had tea, in other words, no drinks, which is unusual for me at dinner on vacation, but I
don't travel well and it was that thing where you're so tired that drinking has
no effect (I'd had Sazeracs beforehand at no-vowel, kind of pricey, The Blck Brd,
which was in a more Brooklyn vein, oh, and four hours of unlimited champagne at the Intercontinental brunch).

Our baby pigeon was missing its head, an omission that
may have been intentional to protect our delicate Western sensibilities (photos
I've seen online are beak and all). Headless or not, the little crisp bird was
smoked with longjing tea and served with pickled onions, a non-Cantonese touch
that balanced some of the richness. There was also a chrysanthemum component,
though it blurred with the green tea flavor (also, I don't know what the flower
tastes like).

Fresh flowery crab with aged shaoxing wine and fragrant chicken oil is a signature dish, and
rightfully impressive–look at that face. The mottled crustacean arrives assembled
but already cracked, behind ripples of fat rice noodles. Not an easy chopstick
dish. The sauce was strongly winey yet still smooth, pleasingly bitter and
borderline fermented, just a little funk, almost like nothing I'd tasted before…almost,
half-way through I realized it reminded me of fondue if fondue could be
creamless. If your eyes were closed, I'm not sure that you'd recognize this
dish as Chinese. Combined with the flakes of crab meat and the noodles, it was
like the idealized seafood pasta I never actually get from an Italian
restaurant. I was resisting my American
urge to clean my plate and trying to be more New York by leaving noodles behind
to save room for the rest of the meal (four-hour brunch, remember) but they
wouldn't clear our plate. The remainders started getting cold. The staff seemed
concerned. Eventually our server came over and divvied up the uneaten noodles and
scraped the roe clinging to the crab shell onto our plates. Rookies.

We would've felt guilty not ordering vegetables.
There were like fifty different types of mushrooms–that bacon-looking blob is
fungi–and freshly shelled peas in this dish.

This is a half-order (they were bigger than they appear
here) of the spareribs coated in caramelized black vinegar and preserved plums
and garnished sweet potato chips. It's a fancy sweet and sour sauce, and
therefore, pretty lovable.

This was one of my favorite meals during my quick
stint in Hong Kong because the food and approach, a mix of humble and high-brow
with an emphasis on ingredients over glitz, isn't really like any restaurant I've
experienced there.

The Chairman * 18 Kau U Fong, Hong Kong

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Oct 28

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Shrimp Heads, Downtown Ramen, Bitters-Free Manhattans

Allswell. Being open till 11pm is not late night dining, not
in NYC anyway, and it's always bothered me, especially on weeknights when maybe
you want to go out to eat at 10:45pm and the pickings are beyond slim. Allswell serves real food until 3am, not
whole menu, but it's something. These
hyper-crispy head-on shrimp in a Meyer lemon sauce and duck rillettes were
pre-midnight, normal menu items. The burger, fat and meaty (with cheddar and
bacon, both add-ons) and perfectly pink inside, can be had any time. The fries
were an abomination, though, if you hate wet and oily thick-cut fries like I
do. Steak fries are the bane of my existence. That's the worst part about pub
burgers, which this appears to be emulating. Bring a friend who likes fat, mushy fries (they
exist!) and let them go wild.

Ganso. With ramen I often give the same disclaimer I use
with barbecue: I'm neither a fanatic or expert. Obviously, I like both and have
opinions, but I can't speak to what a broth's correct flavor should be or the
specific pH of mineral water needed to produce the ultimate noodles. Frankly, I
just like that there is a ramen shop in that odd pocket of downtown Brooklyn
near the IHOP. The short rib buns weren't anything remarkable, and a little
mesclun-y (I did not try the short rib ramen pictured, but love the idea that
each broth receives a different noodle, subtle and thoughtful) but the spicy
miso ramen with thinly sliced pork belly, Chinese broccoli and a soft-boiled,
soy-infused egg was winsome, if not a little gut-busting (I always find that
Asian noodle soups of this size put me into a coma). I will be even more happy
about Ganso being there when it becomes cold enough to better appreciate the
ramen's warming and filling properties.

Mayflower. A miniscule moderately new bar affiliated with neighboring
Aita, a corner Italian restaurant I may never visit because I rarely eat
Italian food (unless you count pizza). Some might call it a speakeasy (signage
was recently added). Jonathan Ames was there on a date, at least I think so, I
don't like staring at people. The bartenders (who can get overwhelmed when at
capacity) are weird about bitters: on one visit none were used in a Manhattan,
on the other I was asked whether or not I wanted them used. Would it
be too hyperbolic to say that a Manhattan without bitters is not a Manhattan? Still like the place.

The
Wallace. Along with Prospect, it's one of two new upscale restaurants to open
on Fulton Street. I figured I should try one of them, and the main reason The
Wallace won out because it was slightly less expensive (entrees in the low $20s
vs. high $20s–now that I live in new shiny condo, no complaints, I'm going
broke buying things like shades for ten-foot-high windows). There's nothing
radical going on, food-wise or with the decor (one might get the impression
this was another tin ceilings, Edison bulb joint, but the interior is oddly
generic like it could've been a suburban Italian restaurant in a previous
life–ok, it was Caribbean) just solid, well-seasoned New American dishes with French
foundations like crispy pork belly on a bed of lentils with braised greens, the
latter an unexpected slight Southern twist, and tilefish with a potato gratin and
beurre blanc tinged with saffron. Manhattans are on the cocktail list and bitters are used, no question.

Il Porto. When I was assigned to review this Italian/pizza
place for nymag.com after it opened a few years ago, I thought it was in the
middle of nowhere. I guess it still is, though now that I live down the street and
that the scary-seeming (not just to me) Navy Yard Cocktail Lounge has been
gutted and looks like any generic storefront for sale, the block seems less
isolated and off-putting. With that said, it's not a destination unless you're
already in Fort Greene or Clinton Hill. The wood-fired pizza is pretty good
(arugula, prosciutto and parmesan is popular) though the floury, barely charred
and nearly flaky crust that I happen to like probably isn't the pinnacle of
Neapolitan pie-making.

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Oct 20

The Sweet By and By

Bangkok has more than a few strange businesses-naming trends (I’ll save Something Story, as in Fat Story, the bluntly ESL plus-size shop in the now-gone Suan Lum Night Bazaar, for another time). The most prominent is Something by Someone (Caffe Nero by Black Canyon Coffee, as pictured here in the background of The Pizza Company). I’m not sure if this has to do with the way the Thai language is translated to English or a desire to sound
upscale.

If you spend enough time trolling Sukhumvit’s endless malls (a touristy strip that’s starting to rival Singapore’s Orchard Road) instead of doing whatever it is you’re supposed to do in Bangkok you may learn an interesting thing or two. (Like if you want to see The Dark Knight Rises, you’ll first have to stand and watch a video about the king’s life while the royal–not the national!– anthem plays. Also, the US may be the only country without assigned movie seating.)

Food-wise, Siam Paragon has Amici by Pomodoro, Another Hound by Greyhound Cafe, Coffee Beans by Dao, Ice Glace by Mr. Shake and L’Espace by Mandarin Oriental, Bangkok.

Terminal 21, the airport-themed shopping center that’s probably bigger than some actual airports (with a harrowingly long escalator that I blame for making me anxious and caused me to put a sample frosty taupe nail polish on my lips, thinking it was gloss) has an astonishing array of Something by Somebodies, though only two, the ones I’ve linked to, are food establishments.

Hers by Sopida
Stella by Jolie Robe
Yourburry By Aew
PAUSE BY 30 SEP
Jikkaroo by Hara
Chichi By One Bed Room
Squeeze By Tipco
Krit By VolumeX
Yamato By Yu-Raku-Cho
21 by aoom
OPA by Apinya
PETA BY BELDA
ZEMI-OH-TICK BY BON_BELLE
New Sky By Medicos
SUSRI CC BY SUSRI
Three Design By Prayong
Yentafo Krueng Songe By A.Mallika
BB Center By Zirtel
Bar Phone by Duet

And the crowning glory: Fat by Fat!

Just around the corner from LadyPhat (which doesn’t fit the By theme but is glorious, nonetheless).

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Oct 14

The Pizza Company

Pizza Hut gets a lot of play online because the
company's path to success in other countries appears to be paved with stuffed
crusts and other novelties.

They were doing the shrimp cone thing on my
previous visit to Bangkok in 2010.

This time? I'm not sure. Is a soft floppy crust that exciting? I may be missing the point of this promo.

This time I wanted a taste of the homegrown, and
that meant The Pizza Company. It's the Thai Pizza Hut. This particular branch was in the MBK mall, others are delivery-and-takeout-only. (There are alternatives
to American imports. Black Canyon, for instance, is the local chain that
competes with Starbucks or Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.)

Pizzas and pastas are equally popular; combos are
available and most parties order both.
Seafood and spice both play major roles, as shown in the pad kee mao spaghetti,
a logical fusion of drunken noodles with Western pasta. This was not bad.

Pan pizzas are called "personal" in the US
for obvious reasons. The diminutive though bready quarters are meant for one.
In Thailand it is suggested for up to two diners. Two slices of shrimp,
mussels, fake crab, pineapple and chiles on thousand island dressing is
probably more than enough for most Americans anyway.

I don't know what the ketchup was intended for. Also note the turquoise Bubblegum Sparkling beverage. Caffe Nero glowing in the background is a Black Canyon offshoot. Offshoots are big.

Do not be fooled by the old white guy (this was also
the only place where I encountered American Spanish-speakers in two weeks in SE
Asia and the Middle East) The Pizza Company is just as popular with Thais as
tourists.

The Pizza Company * Multiple Locations, Bangkok, Thailand

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Oct 10

Eaten, Barely Blogged: Hello, Myrtle Avenue

I took so many photos at Sapolo that I decided to
give it its own post.

Chinantla. I'm excited to have what feels like a
secret taqueria (there is a full-on restaurant in the back of this bodega, not
just a counter with a seat or two) only six blocks away. Mini-chains Calexico
and Oaxaca have their fans, but they just weren't cutting it for me. The pork
enchilada (as in chile sauced, not the dish with the name) probably wasn't the
wisest pick. The meat was pounded to schnitzel thinness and sauteed till lifeless
and tough enough to start bending the flimsy metal knife I was given. With a big
scoop of refried beans, mountain range of Mexican rice and slices of avocado
and nopales, it was a lot of food for $9, though. I'll definitely return for
something simpler and more fool-proof because I want this place to be good.

Tepango. is four blocks closer to me and courts a
broader audience with things like hard shell tacos and what they call a Super
Taco, a $5 fat rolled corn tortilla filled with meat and enrobed melted cheese
like a taco-burrito-quesadilla hybrid. These are just regular $2 tacos, the al
pastor sweet with lots of pineapple chunks and grilled onions. They deliver,
but it's worth stopping by in person to see the hand-drawn anime and fantasy
Aztec art that decorates the walls.

Zaytoons. The only Carroll Gardens/Clinton Hill
crossover, I think, and not the only neighborhood Middle Eastern choice (Damas
Falafel House still needs to assessed). It's byob, five mezzes are only $8.50
(I'm always impressed with how good the boring sounding lentils and rice,
moujadarra, is–it must be all the oily fried onions mixed in) and while maybe
melted cheese and lamb weren't meant to go together, I often end up with a shawarma
"pitza."

Maggie Brown. There's nothing really notable about
this solidly neighborhood restaurant/bar (there is nearly an equal amount of
small space devoted to eating as drinking). The burger is pretty solid
(medium-rare is honored) and there's a nice backyard. My only knowledge of
Maggie Brown up until now was when it got the Under $25 treatment eight years
ago, and I was surprised to see a Clinton Hill restaurant making The Times. It
still feels a little 2004, which is to say good enough for a transitional area
but not in line with the current crop of new nearish restaurants (Lulu &
Po, The Wallace, Prospect). And that's ok.

White Castle. For the second time in my NYC
existence, I live a block from a White Castle. This time it's directly across
the street and the view I'm treated to when peeking over the terrace. I don't
think I will ever be tempted by the sign advertising their new parfaits, but
the also-new jalapeno and cheese sliders (I have not been wild enough to try
the version with crispy fried onions yet) are not a bad 94-cent snack for those
who dig gooey processed cheese and chiles as much as I do. I hope this doesn't
become a habit.

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Oct 8

Cheesecake Factory Westbury

At the Westbury Cheesecake Factory nothing was as it
seemed or should be.

The Vietnamese Tacos were buns.

The kale salad was frisee and radicchio with a few errant celery
leaves. I was just curious how kale would play in the suburbs, and apparently,
it doesn't. I ordered it because I like sweets and nuts with my roughage and this
one also contained dried cranberries, apple and marcona almonds (at least those
were legit).

I would be surprised if the crispy crab wontons,
a.k.a. crab rangoon, contained real crab meat, but that's not the point. Fried
cream cheese is.

The macadamia white chocolate cheesecake (recommended
my our server and nearly the highest-calorie cheesecake on the list–I would
tell you just how much but nutritional info isn't on the site) was kind of a blondie
with stuff on it. Ok, it was a cheesecake–and a damn fine one if you like violently sweet desserts.

At least my martini, The Well-Mannered Dirty Martini,
was a martini, the only non-sugared choice of the ten on offer. Most chain
restaurant cocktail menus will throw in one drink with blue cheese-stuffed olives
to appease sweet-resistant fat-lovers. (I love cloying desserts–see above–but hate sweet beverages.)

And I must say that the suburbs are for spacious booths,
not two-seaters inches from a banquette of birthday partiers playing music
aloud on their phones. I could stay in NYC for that experience. When our server mysteriously disappeared for
what seemed like a universe in chain time, we contemplated up and leaving for
Grand Lux Cafe down the road–it's supposed to be classier, right? I will have
to get to the bottom of how once town can have both a Cheesecake Factory and a
Grand Lux Cafe when so many others have to do without.

Cheesecake Factory * 1504 Old Country Rd., Westbury,
NY

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Oct 7

Sapolo

Unlike Lulu and Po or Do or Dine, which I can't
technically claim as part of my new neighborhood (they're three and two blocks
outside the Clinton Hill borders, respectively) Sapolo firmly counts. In fact, it's
one of the first restaurants I noticed because it's kind of hard to miss. A
late night favorite with the patrons of Myrtle Avenue doormen clubs, Bamboo and
SoCo (ostensibly a restaurant) and mulleted Pratt students sipping cocktails
the color of jordan almonds, Sapolo also
represents a dying NYC breed, the sit-down Chinese-American restaurant.

And then they also serve "Spanish" food,
oh, and piña coladas in to-go cups. It's a lot to take in.

And to digest, portion-wise. Of course, you're first
brought wontons and duck sauce to nibble on while pondering the list of
cocktails ranging from the classic Singapore Sling to the notorious Nutcracker while
checking out your zodiac on the paper placemat.

Combos are designed for value with a big butte of
fried rice (with substantial chunks of chicken or roast pork) and classics like
the General Tso chicken pictured. This is not a poor representation of the genre
and easily a notch above corner takeout style. The brown sauce was not overly
corn-starched and gloppy and while it was sweet as one would expect, there was
actual spice. I was tempted to eat more than half the serving, which any sane
person would get wrapped up to go.

The eggroll comes on its own plate with a steak
knife.

Honestly, I'm not sure what you're supposed to order
at a restaurant like Sapolo. The clientele isn't Caribbean, the staff is all
Chinese, so it would seem safer to stick with lo mein and beef with broccoli than
fried plantains, paella and bistec empanizado. The window sign does tout pollo
a la brasa, though. And it just might be the biggest restaurant in the area, so I wouldn't call them liars.

Sapolo * 501 Myrtle Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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