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Posts from the ‘What to Eat’ Category

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.

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

Gambas_1
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?

Chorizochoc
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.

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

Lamb_1
Blurry lamb skewers. Nice and cuminy.

Cheese_1
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

El Sitio

I was just about Cubano'd out at this point in my fake vs. real research. But El Sitio is a classic, I couldn't pass it up. Though I have physically passed by countless times and never stopped in. This is a perpetual problem with Roosevelt Ave.–too much choice and when it's a Latin-Asian toss-up, I almost always lean towards the Thai or Filipino options.

We sat in the restaurant half, which has personal jukeboxes at each table, fake ivy climbing the ceiling, and no cubano on the menu. Oops, I guess you're supposed to sit at the lunch counter for more casual fare. But I still got my sandwich, I had to. You get garlic bread while you wait and little croquettes the size of olives. Maybe you don't get those in the diner. James ordered a pork plate with yucca, and rice and beans, of course.

The sandwich was perfectly crisp with a soft melty interior. Swiss cheese, roast pork, ham, pickle and yellow mustard–all standard and all good. And very flat, it'd had the hell pressed out of it, which is a good thing. I hate it when everything's busting out.

El Sitio * 68-28 Roosevelt Ave., Woodside, 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.

Tehuitzingo_2

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.

Guacamole_1  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.

Amuse
Pomegranate seeds, roe and shrimp
Ceviche
Mixed ceviche

Empanada
Shrimp, manchego empanada, pineapple bell pepper relish, chile chipotle vinaigrette

Bisque
Squash soup with amazing huitalacoche wonton and epazote
Cocorice
Shrimp, calamari, scallops, octopus and cilantro rice with achiote-coconut sauce
Halibut
This was James's and I'm not 100% sure which fish and preparation he had
Cotta
a messy (yet tasty) panna cotta
Sorbet
pineapple and mango sorbet

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

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Feb 11

Yemen Cafe

In the nearly two years I've lived vaguely near Atlantic Avenue, Waterfalls is the only Middle Eastern restaurant I've visited. I fear that whole strip is going to be gentrified into oblivion within a couple of years, so I'd better start branching out while I can. Yemeni cuisine is one that I could stand to learn a little bit more about.

I took the opportunity during the first flakes of the blizzard. After seeing Cache at that odd Brooklyn Heights Theater on Henry Street, Yemen Cafe was a short (albeit wet) walk down the street (and home, 15 blocks south of that). As I'd suspected might be the case, I was the only female in the sparse, spacious room that was maybe a quarter full. I think that's why I tend to be wary of many of these restaurants: the lack of women. Am I breaking a rule by wanting to try new and delicious food?

Many of the items on offer were highly tasty and not quite like things I've had before. The pita was large, pizza-sized and comes on a platter. It had definitely come straight from an oven, warm with charred, bubbly edges. I didn't order any appetizers because I assumed the entrees were meal enough, which they were. However, the foul madamas and the Yemeni fateh, bread with honey and butter, grabbed my attention. Maybe on another visit.

James had a lamb fateh. I gather fateh means things served atop torn pieces of bread. The gravy soaks into the flaps of starch and creates a chewy flavor combination. I had the house salta, which comes in two parts. I think the salta is the stew, which is laced with potatoes, carrots and zucchini and comes most interestingly topped with a white herby foam called houlbah. I'd never seen such a thing, at the same it's time ancient and avant-garde. You mix the strong flavored swirl into the liquid. I couldn't put my finger on what the bitter component was, but later I deduced that it was fenugreek. A roasty browned, juicy lamb shank comes on a separate plate (you can also get chicken). A lot of picking and dipping is involved.

The foam came as a surprise, and so did the hot sauce they bring on a small saucer. I swear it's a dead ringer for salsa. We were joking that there was a jar of Pace in the kitchen. The components were there: tomato, onion, jalapeno, but lighter on the tomato on higher on the heat. Not chunky, but a puree. This is what I enjoyed about Yemen Cafe, unexpected tid bits like the Yemeni salsa, foamy toppings and pita strewn stews.

Yemen Cafe * 176 Atlantic Ave., Brooklyn, 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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Feb 4

La Flor

1/2 I feel like La Flor is one of those Chowhound darlings (at least it was some years back) as was corroborated by the 95% white middle class clientele (myself included, I guess) that mysteriously was almost exclusively made up of pairs of 40-ish women. But I've never been in all of my years. If I find myself along these parts of Roosevelt Ave., I inevitably end up in an Asian establishment. And even this excursion was a fluke. We'd been shopping at Western Beef in Ridgewood and wanted a taco, which could've been satisfied en route back to South Brooklyn. But the pull deeper into Queens was too strong to resist.

Laflortacos I know, La Flor is more capable than a mere taqueria–the short ribs sounded tempting and the cheesecake and bread pudding filled dessert case taunted me all evening–but we just wanted tacos. I had to try the special al pastor ones since I'm crazy for pork and pineapple. I happened to be sitting right near the spit, so I could see the meat being shaved off. Clearly I wasn't the only al pastor fan, as a lot of slices were stripped off before mine made their way to my table. The tacos looked larger than average, the two corn tortillas seemed to be slightly bigger in circumference. Or maybe it was an illusion because of the generous amount of filling. The meat was crispy edged, sweet and earthy with hints of fruit. I could eat a pile of it. The two tacos came with a mesclun salad topped with fresh corn for $8.95, which seemed fair enough.

We shared a shrimp quesadilla that came red, white and green stripes of salsa and crema. Festive. And the filling wasn't overly cheesy, in fact there appeared to be mashed potato chunks mixed with the seafood and green onions.

Coupled with a glass of the ever popular Yellowtail Shiraz (no, not fancy, but not jug wine either), the early evening meal was a nice way to waste time while waiting for a severe downpour to pass over the elevated 7 tracks. I can see how this corner caf appeals to locals looking for variety. (2/4/06)

La Flor * 53-02 Roosevelt Ave., Woodside, Queens

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Feb 3

Pioneer BBQ

This is a good lazy Friday night choice, assuming you live nearby. There would be nothing lackadaisical about it if you had to trek on the G/F, then bus it. The vibe is a little more bar than restaurant, the service is casually hands-off like most of Red Hook (I wouldn't call it neglectful, but it's de rigueur in these parts for staff to just up and leave, wander outside, smoke a cigarette, socialize, etc. for long stretches of time) but you'll get your beer and you'll get your food and everyone will be happy.

I tried the pulled pork, which for $12 comes with jalapeo cornbread and two sides. I chose French fries because I'd heard they were top notch and collard greens because I love a mess of stewed leaves. As I'm no bbq maven, I can't be constructively critical. For me, the meat was fine, possibly a tad dry. Purists would probably take issue with something. The fries were skinny, crispy and parsley-flecked and plentiful. Portions are generous all around. The scene is low key and rustic, totally befitting a growing enclave that's as close to the middle of nowhere as you can get in New York City.

Pioneer BBQ * 318 Van Brunt St., Brooklyn, NY

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