Posts from the ‘What to Eat’ Category

Jan 21

Rice Ave.

1/2

“Ill have brown rice,” “make that without oyster sauce and
fish sauce,” “this is really spicy.” No, no and no. I'm so
not a food snob, but when talking about Thai I am a bit particular. I cant
help it, its the one cuisine I feel like I actually “get.” Curry
shouldnt be eaten with chopsticks, and crinkle cut carrots shouldnt be
swimming around in it either.

Friday night I was excited because I'd finally be able to see the new
renovated Sripraphai, it had been a while. It's bizarre because the last
time I went was the Saturday night before I impulsively decided to fly to
Portland in October, and then like the week I came back it was written up as
the
main review in the NY Times, which caused a stir because people thought
it belonged in the Under $25 column. I was just weirded out by the photo in
the review because apparently the dining room had been completely redone in
the short time since my last visit. Anyway, I had heard that it was
reopening in its new larger form on Jan. 19, but when we trekked out on a
freezing Fri., the 20^th, it was still under construction.

Despite that neighborhood being a trove of varied and inexpensive food,
we were bent on Thai. Knowing that wed be disappointed by anything less than
Sripraphai was a given, so we opted for the more atmospheric, yet less
authentic Rice Ave down the street simply because wed never been before. Eh,
it was pretty much as expected, not what I'd been looking forward to at all.
The duck salad was good, the potential was there, but the hot part of the
hot, sour, salty, sweet dynamic was severely lacking, as it was in all of
the dishes we tried. The red curry with pork and cashew shrimp were adequate
and tasty too, but not the wow-inducing blizzard kick off meal I'd been
seeking.

Rice Ave * 72-19 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Jan 7

DuMont Burger

I don't know why I spent the past two weekends traipsing around Williamsburg
(I've tried to avoid the area for the past few years. I had a couple of
innocent beers at Zablozki's and was totally scared by the riff raff, all
entourage minus the star teeming out of SEA onto N. 6th St. Where do these
baseball capped phantoms come from? It doesn't seem worth the travel effort
from New Jersey or Long Island. Or from Bay Ridge or Bayside, for that
matter) but at least this Saturday I managed to keep my food and drink in my
stomach and out of public spaces.

Always the pessimist, I didn't have much faith that DuMont Burger, which
somehow became the out-of-the-blue focus of two of the four members I was
with, would still be open after 1am, but we were in luck.

The room was comfortably sparse, woody and counter and stool style. I'm more
of a booth gal, but eating at the bar felt more personal like our burgers
were being crafted just for us (well, technically they were since after the
first ten minutes we were the lone diners).

We ordered various permutations, a veggie burger, a mini and
two regular burgers, fries and a salad chosen for sides. I can only speak
for my own, a medium-rare gruyere topped burger with fries. Having a few
drinks under your belt always makes food a little tastier, but I truly think
this meal was top notch. The meat was juicy, if not more rare than medium (I
like a pink patty, but sticklers should probably order a notch more done
than usual) and slightly sweet, perhaps from Worcestershire sauce. I don't
think the sweetness of the brioche bun alone would've caused this. They come
thick, and with the addition of tomato slice, onion rounds, sweet pickles
and lettuce leaf it's a tad too tall. I guess the baby-mouthed could opt for
the mini, but I wanted my full 9 ounces, just squished down slightly.

The parsley flecked fries pretty were right on, neither too thick or
thin, nor too soggy or crispy. I've never been able to order a side salad
when fried potatoes are an option. Though as of January 9 I'm supposed to be
eating healthier, I'm not sure how DuMont Burger might fit into my proposed
betterment plan. Moderation, right? (1/7/05)

DuMont Burger * 314 Bedford Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Jan 5

Bryant Park Grill

1/2

It wouldn't be my first choice for a company lunch, but its not as if I'm in
an expense account industry (well, advertising: yes, but a librarian within
such an organization: no). Per Se, Masa—not happening. As a
post-Christmas present our department was taken out to lunch by a former
company CEO who still holds court, at least figuratively, on some oak-heavy
floor that I've never ventured on. I didn't want to look a gift horse in the
mouth despite the host and the two employees who ordered after him all
asking for the exact same Caesar salad and cheese ravioli special. Weird. I
got the boring womans choice: roasted chicken, though primarily for the
french fries that came on the side. And since I wasn't paying I didnt feel
much guilt about only eating half of my food (not by choice—everyone
else just ate faster and I had to stop too). Isn't that the French
way everyone seems to smitten with lately? Eat whatever you want, but
just a few bites. Waste is so chic.

Bryant Park Grill * 25 W.
40th St., New York, NY

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Jan 5

Dinosaur Bar-B-Que

1/2

I tend to scoff at New Yorkers who deem anyplace in the boroughs or far
reaches of Manhattan impossible to get to. There are very few subway
inaccessible spots on the big island, there's no excuse except not actually
wanting to make the effort. Ill cop to being ignorant of most of everything
above midtown, mainly because everyone I know lives south or east, not
north, but I'm not opposed to trying unfamiliar corners. When it came to
finding Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, my Brooklyn-centric stripes began to show.

In theory it seemed like either the 137^th or 125^th
street stations would be fine since theyre both equidistant number-wise from
131^st. The 1/9 went screwy and bypassed 125^th for
137^th. Fine, no biggie. But instead of walking the six simple
blocks down Broadway, I opted away from the crowd and went for the next
block west, Riverside Dr. This shouldve been a tip off because I knew the
restaurant was underneath Riverside Dr. and how could it sit underneath a
street and also be along it?

Despite the snow flurries, as usual I was still sweaty from impatiently
huffing around. I made it past 134^th before realizing that I was
up in the air on an overpass that extended as far as my line of vision.
Dinosaur Bar-B-Que was clearly somewhere beneath my feet. And I'd already
trudged what felt like a long way. I couldnt cut back to Broadway without
completely backtracking to where I'd originally came from. So frustrating,
and I had no one to blame except myself. At least I was working off my large
lunch from Bryant Park Grill (weird restaurant choice, but it wasn't mine to
make).

Once inside, cozy with an IPA microbrew I was able to settle down and
take in the peculiar surroundings and now pretty falling snow. There would
be no guessing you were in New York City if you hadnt traipsed through East
Harlem (and had a large party of heavily accented, muscle bound, New
Jersey-esque type guys with cell phones attached to their ears, sitting
right next to you. I did appreciate that they considered Cuban sandwiches to
be perfectly normal appetizers to order. Never mind why Cubanos are on the
menu at all, though I faintly recall the same weirdness at Blue Smoke) to
get there. For one, the space is quite large, and woody, rustic like a
roadhouse. I don't know their whole history, except that theyre from
Syracuse, have something to do with bikers and have a loyal following.
Clearly theyre shooting for an outlaw vibe, which I've never really
understood about barbecue, how its somehow developed this extreme or tough
persona, perhaps because grilling, smoke and fire are mens domains, who
knows. The staff were also unusual for NYC—friendly, guiless,
bubbly—perhaps they are upstate tagalongs.

We started with spicy, earthy boiled shrimp, which felt very New
Orleans. I had the big-ass pork plate, despite minor reservations with
saying the name (not out of piousness but because I have issues with silly
food titles—moons over my hammy, anyone? I noticed a guy near us just
ordered “the pork plate” which prompted his server to force him
into saying big-ass).

Despite a short southern jaunt last summer, I'm hardly a barbecue
aficionado, but I would give high marks to the limited items I did taste at
Dinosaur. My pulled pork came with a slightly sweet sauce, which was fine
though others might prefer a different style topping (there are three sauce
choices on the table). I like that the meat was tender, yet also with a few
crispy bits on the fringe. I only ate one pork rib, but it was also
flavorful and not overly fatty. Barbecue isnt about the sides, but my beans
and salt potatoes were surprisingly good. I'm not usually a fan of bbq
beans, but these were loaded with smoky meat, and the potatoes were in a
slick of oozing butter. It's hard to beat butter and salt for simplicity and
flavor.

There wasn't room for dessert, though I've heard good things. I hate to
say it, but I'd be inclined to use a car next time. Even so, Ill still
harbor ill will towards the subway-impaired, I cant help it.

Dinosaur Bar-B-Que *
646 W. 131^st St., New York, NY

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Jan 1

Indian Oasis

The best New Years Day hangover food ever. It's usually hard enough just to
get dressed on days like these, let alone leave the house. But I'd been
dying to try Indian Oasis, lured by reports of sublime Indian Chinese (as in
Chinese food theyd serve in India, which got me to wondering what Chinese
food around the world must be like. At least India is nearby, but what about
someplace like Finland or Panama?) and Thai food. I forced myself to get in
gear, desperately in need of a savory, spicy kick off for 2005.

This is one of those restaurants where I regret only being able to order
so many dishes. I suppose thats why group dining can be desirable, except in
my case where everyone I know seems to have some sort of dietary quirk or
irrational aversion to anything fun. The menu is varied, and having both the
Chinese and Thai food is a little incongruous (or the best of both worlds
depending on your outlook). Our penang shrimp, while very good, seemed
strange mingling on the same plate with kung pao potatoes (what a great
invention) and chilli lamb Hakka style.

All of our Chinese-Indian food was very dark, rich and liberally spiced.
The sweetly named drums of heaven: crispy, saucy lollipopped chicken wings,
also fell into this canon, which I don't think is necessarily Hakka (if I'm
correct they are known for dried and pickled items, as well as pork usage)
but some Indo-hybrid. I need to learn what ingredients they use for their
dishes, because its wonderful on the tongue. That also could have something
to do with a purported heavy MSG hand. But I was feeling so toxic after a
night of excess that a few more chemicals couldnt have possibly done any
harm.

Indian Oasis *
HoraceHarding Expressway, Fresh Meadows, NY

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Dec 24

Acqua Santa

Christmas Eve was the perfect night for a Dyker Heights festive lights
excursion. Under the circumstances Italian food made sense, but I was kind
of hoping for Bensonhurst style L&B Spumoni Gardens, not
Williamsburg fare. But thats how things turned out. Fornino, the new brick
oven place, wouldve been my first choice, but pickings are slim the night
before big holidays and they were closing up shop right as we approached the
door. This scheduling issue was mildly compounded by my dining companions
dietary restrictions. I totally wanted to try Spike Hill across the street,
but I feared theyd make me go to Pita Power if my eyes even wandered that
direction. Aqua Santa, around the corner, was the compromise.

All I had was quesadilla type pizza stuffed with robiola, prosciutto and
red onions and what seemed like an abnormal amount of malbec for splitting a
bottle of wine, so I didnt sample a wide swath of the menu. No complaints,
honestly, though its doubtful I'd return unless in the company of
Williamsburg vegetarians.

Acqua Santa * 556 Driggs St., Brooklyn, NY

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Dec 20

WD-50

1/2 Dinner at WD-50 was better than expected, really top-notch and fun. I'm always afraid I'm going to be disappointed by popular restaurants (like a couple weeks ago we went to Mermaid Inn, which isn't quite in the same league, but was a hot spot last year, and I was under whelmed. Plus, the waiter called me ma'am, where at WD-50 they had the good sense to use miss. It's the little things, you know.). Maybe that's why I tend to give them a good six to twelve months to mellow out.

The disturbing yet entertaining portion of the evening came from the couple one table away (luckily it wasn't so packed that you have to do the classic NYC crammed thing where you can barely squeeze into your seat because it's set up with about 3" of space between tables. The waiters always pull the table out for diners, but still you have to either scoot your crotch or butt right up against your neighbor's table. It doesn't really matter how svelte you are, settling in is going to take a few awkward seconds.) At first I thought we were witnessing a flaccid date, but it felt a little too strained for that.

The duo was made up of an Asian guy who exuded finance industry with his blahness and a so-so blonde woman who probably thought she was prettier than she was. They could've been anywhere from 28 to 34–it's not always easy to peg that demographic. I was obvious that the gentleman was trying to impress her, it was transparent enough that she was subtly egging him on in a manipulative way. She wasn't going to hump him (though James thought there was a slight chance she might) she just relished the attention…and probably the free meal, he did order a $145 pinot noir (we opted for a sauvignon blanc that was exactly $100 less). She only ordered one thing, a cod entre and didn't even finish her tiny portion, while he ordered two appetizers and an entre for himself.

He proceeded to bring up his fiance, and it was clear that he was fishing to see if there was any chance things might work between him and his dining companion. We guessed they were college friends, or old acquaintances, not likely coworkers. He was saying stuff like, "if circumstances were different…" and he brought up babies like three times, it was totally gross, and how this woman would make a good mother. Nothing gets a girl wet faster than pregnancy banter. I almost barfed up my pickled beef tongue and fried mayonnaise (and not because I was eating pickled beef tongue and fried mayonnaise).

He then began schooling her in the history of avant-garde cooking and saying how the chef Wylie Dufresne, was a protege of Ferran Adria who is like the progenitor of all the current culinary trends (he invented using foam, you know like carrot foam, but has now moved on to essences, seriously, you don't even eat them, you just breathe them in and experience them) and is chef at the impossible to get into (though not so impossible that this guy wasn't able to eat there and brag about it) restaurant in Spain, El Bulli. Anyway, Wylie Dufresne isn't a protg of Ferran Adria (doesn't protg mean you studied under the person?), I wanted to tell him so, but that was hardly even the point.

They exchanged gifts, he gave her a L'Occitane gift set (the same one James is giving his mother–does that make it any less romantic a present?) and she offered a wine bag and what must've been a fancy bottle of wine because he couldn't stop thanking her for it (though he probably would've jizzed himself over a jug of Gallo of as long as it came from this woman). We were appeased when this guy seemed to become unnecessarily humiliated when the sommelier wouldn't allow him to open this bottle of wine and share it with his lady friend, the mood was totally ruined, and he got all snippy and asked for the check when the waiter subsequently inquired about dessert. "We're not dessert people," he snapped, and they left in a huff. He probably figured that extra wine might've been adequate to lower his companion's defenses enough to impregnate her. Such an uplifting holiday tale.

Yes, the food. We did eat more than eavesdrop and just because I've neglected to discuss our actual dinner doesn't mean the meal wasn't noteworthy. As mentioned, I had the pickled tongue with little fried mayonnaise cubes and sprinkles of crumbs that were supposed to be onion streusel, there were also dehydrated scattered grains of what formerly was lettuce. If you created a bite using all components it tasted like a sandwich. A small beef tongue sandwich. Being a pork belly fiend, that entre had to be done. Sure, it was rich and I was pleasantly surprised by the decent portion. Even though pork belly is best in small doses, I feared the artistic giant plate/tiny serving syndrome. The five meltingly unctuous slices were more than adequate and accompanied well by fatty antitheses: turnips and soybeans. We shared what was probably the most pedestrian dessert, "chocolate cream, coffee soil, tonka bean ice cream," which was a conglomeration of vanilla and chocolate shapes and textures, cakey and creamy. I was tipsy enough at this point (I'd already downed a few pre-dinner cocktails at the new Barramundi across the street) that the idea of eating chocolate dirt seemed like the ultimate nightcap.

WD-50 * 50 Clinton St., New York, NY

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Dec 19

86 Noodles

I've been by here a million times. Well, at least every time I've gone to
the Bay Ridge Century 21 (yes, there's a Century 21 in Brooklyn). I've never
had any reason to stop. But on this particular Sunday it fit all
requirements. I needed a whole roast duck for a Thai red curry with pumpkin
I was making and James wanted noodle soup. We planned on hitting Sunset Park
after shopping beautiful 86th Street. On our way back to the car I was
excited by the sight of ducks hanging just inside the door. A quick glance
at the takeout menu promised all sorts of noodle soups (which you could
probably also glean from their name). Most of the customers seemed to be
going the greatest hits route, i.e. sweet and sour, kung pao, but the menu
isnt limited to those choices. A bowl of roast pork and dumpling soup
supplemented by a plate of salt and pepper spare ribs sprinkled with
jalepeno slices (I love that preparation, especially with soft shell crabs)
and a duck to go capped off a chilly pre-Christmas late afternoon better
than I'd anticipated.

86 Noodles * 8602 4th Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Dec 18

Hill Diner

I don't generally do brunch. Not out of any sort of principle. I like breakfast food and I never cook it myself, but I just cant get up and going early enough. Brunch usually means close to home and my close to home equals lots of strollers and needlessly affectionate couples that I already get enough of on the F train.

So, Hill Diner was random and spur of the moment. And it didn't kill me to wake up and get myself together on a late Saturday afternoon. I've discovered that there's no one worth impressing in the vicinity of my apartment anyway, and South Brooklyn chic consists of women with no makeup, ponytails, glasses and Patagonia fleece. I've never gotten the I'm so full of substance and intellect that I have no need to enhance my looks aesthetic. Getting dolled up for omelets in this climate is futile and a waste of good product.

My croque madame, roasted potatoes and coffee were enjoyable. The company around us, not so much. My jest "doesnt being in here make you want to start a family?" was met with a steely glare, and made me ponder what life would be like with a boyfriend possessing a better grip on jibing humor. Clearly, my problems with brunching has nothing to do with the actual food.

Hill Diner * 231 Court St., Brooklyn, NY

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Dec 17

Savoia

Savoia has reasonable prices, better than average pizza, and is a little more inventive than many of the Carroll Gardens (or is this Cobble Hill? I get the borders confused) red sauce restaurants I like to avoid, but its probably not a draw if you live outside the neighborhood. Smith St. is pretty blah despite everyone seeming to bestow it restaurant row status. We were going to try the new, probably mediocre Cuban place, but it was full as new restaurants often are. Savoia, with free tables and a warm glow, beckoned from across the street.

I had reservations about ordering the fattoressa pizza (spinach, gorgonzola, sausage, mozzarella), not because it didnt sound enticing, but because somehow saying the word fat might make me seem fatter myself (this is the sort of bizzarro self-consciousness that a skinny individual would never even consider). Though I've ordered lardo without giving a thought to being viewed as a lard ass. So, the fattoressa was fine, if not a touch over-charred around the edges (I know, wood-burning ovens and all that).

With the number of yet untried restaurants clogging Smith St., it'll probably be a while before I return. Thats the problem with these types of establishments. I've never had a horrible meal in the neighborhood, but I've also never been revved to revisit a place.

Savoia* 227 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

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