S'mac! Not really, they actually say "smack" but I was pleased with myself on this one, so I had to go for it.
Bruni blogged about S'mac, which is a small eatery in the East Village which specializes in macaroni and cheese, a few weeks ago. As a mac & cheese lover, I was intrigued. Luckily for me, Jeeves had just returned from his European vacation and had time for some dinner in between being a law nerd and.... being a law nerd. We had narrowed down the contenders to a variety of selections from New York mag's 101 cheap eats issue, and S'mac. I chose the winner.
And a winner it is. As I find woolgathering about food to be a suitable way to make it through a day of blah work, I perused the menu and decided the best plan of attack was for each of us to order two nosh sizes and share all of them. This way we could try four different varieties of mac & cheese.
I arrived first, and Jeeves was, per usual, late, which gave me enough time to stand outside the orange and yellow restaurant and get antsy as it filled up and there were fewer and fewer tables available. But he arrived and we got on line while I told him my idea. Jeeves is almost always amenable to a plan that allows for more food, so he agreed. We selected the all-american, gruyere, cheeseburger and cajun, and we requested breadcrumbs on all of them.
After about a five minute wait, the waitress brought us our skillets of mac and cheese. We had made a mistake in our calculations - what we had assumed were the medium-sized servings were, in fact, the small. Four nosh-sized (the smallest) provided way too much food for two people. We dug in, regardless.
As Bruni has suggested, the gruyere, which includes chunks of slab bacon, was our favorite. It was lighter than the others and the gruyere went great with the bacon. But the all-american (just your traditional mac & cheese) was not to be discounted. Bruni complained that there were no burnt edges, but I personally feel that there are many ways of making mac and cheese, and while burnt edges are tasty and that is one way of making it, Sarita's (the owner) way is pretty great too.
The cheeseburger (which Jeeves likened to The Dude from Two Boots Pizza) was absurdly heavy and kind of like a really delicious serving of hamburger helper. As for the Cajun, well, in typical Megan fashion, I couldn't eat too much of it before the jalapenos got the best of me, but mac & cheese definitely benefits from being combined with pepper jack and andouille.
I kid you not, we had to take every single one home, which actually worked out well for the splitting - I took the gruyere and the cheeseburger, and let me say - the cheeseburger was fantastic reheated. But this meal was not without its casualty - Jeeves came down with a serious case of the cheese sweats. I didn't know it was possible to get the cheese sweats, but it is and he did.
On the whole, an inexpensive and delightful experience. I'll be headed back, but I'll just get one nosh sized next time.
Showing posts with label restaurants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label restaurants. Show all posts
Friday, August 25, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Money's too tight for steak
Marge: Homer, I have to go out to pick up something for dinner.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Money's too tight for steak.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Eh, suuure... steak.
(This quote is really only used because any time Paul or I say the word "steak" the other persons launches into this quote. Because we're losers.)
Last Thursday was Jeeves's birthday, and to welcome him to his late 20s, I took him to The Strip House. Neither of us had been before, but we had both heard great things about it, and so, were quite excited.
While getting a reservation was no problem, I was surprised to see that the restaurant was nearly full when we arrived. Regardless, we were immediately seated. If you've been to or heard about The Strip House, you already know that the decor is noteworthy. The space is small with a bar area in the front of the restaurant, and tables that run along the walls and one row of tables down the middle. I was actually surprised by how small the space was. The bar area feels trendy - not remotely steak house-ish. But just past the bar, the restaurant mellows out and while you don't feel like you are in Luger's, you definitely feel like these people will know how to cook a steak.
The walls are covered with old bordello shots for the 1920s or earlier - shots that I am sure were risque for their time. The wallpaper, the seating - it's all red, but surprisingly not overwhelming.
There were service missteps early on. Jeeves wanted a rye Manhattan and asked the waiter if the bar carried rye. He wasn't sure, but felt comfortable giving a dissertation on the difference between a rye and bourbon Manhattan, and his personal recommendations for what type of bourbon Rajeev should choose if he went with the bourbon (they did have rye, and that's what he had). I asked for a menu of wines by the glass, and was delighted to see that they had Angus "the Bull" cabernet sauvignon from Australia (2003). Mike and Gena got me into this wine at one of their tastings and it's definitely a steak-worthy red. But the waiter took forever to take our drink orders. When the waiter did bring Jeeves's Manhattan, he attempted to pour it with a flourish, but really just wound up splashing it all over Jeeves's arm.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there, because the food came promptly and at a good pace. We started off with the foie gras appetizer, which was marked as a table share. Indeed. It was an enormous piece and we couldn't finish it. It was served cold, which I wasn't expecting, and I wish the menu had been explicit about that. As it turns out, the menu says it's "foie gras torchon" but until tonight, I never knew what that meant. In fact, it means the foie gras was wrapped tightly in a towel, briefly poached, then cooled in a liquid (frequently sweet wine) for several days. Regardless, it was delicious, but very large.
For the main course, we split the porterhouse for two, medium rare, along with creamed spinach and goose-fat potatoes. The creamed spinach is cooked in a truffle oil, which my boyfriend Bruni went on a rant about this week. Regardless of what he thinks, the creamed spinach was un.believable. Rajeev went so far as to call it the "best creamed spinach in the city." The crisp goosefat potatoes were also lovely, especially because of the crispy skin in which they are baked (think chunks of potato cooked in a crispy shell), though I must say I thought they were a little too salty. And the steak? Perfect. Sure, sure, the strip was yummy and flavorful. But the filet! Oh, the filet - tender and melt-in-your-mouth, but still piquant, largely because of the peppery rub on the steak. I will most certainly dream about that filet.
Of course, we had dessert, because one needs something sweet at the end of a meal like that, and also, I had asked them to stick a birthday candle in whatever we ordered. We had the profiteroles - large and rich, and in my opinion, disappointing. But it didn't really matter - I was completely stuffed and only needed a few bites for satisfaction.
Other than the initial missteps, our service was solid (and I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the bread was also quite good). I have been asked how Strip House compares to Luger's and all I can say is that a comparison doesn't seem right. If you want steak and bacon, no frills, Luger's is where it's at. If you're up for more of a restaurant experience, with ambience, a nice wine list, and creamed spinach that simply cannot be beat, you'd have to go with Strip House. More aptly put - perhaps Luger's is where you would like to go for an outing with your poker buddies, but a gentleman friend's birthday calls for the Strip House. If you're companion happens to be both, then I suppose you can let him choose.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Money's too tight for steak.
Homer: Steak?
Marge: Eh, suuure... steak.
(This quote is really only used because any time Paul or I say the word "steak" the other persons launches into this quote. Because we're losers.)
Last Thursday was Jeeves's birthday, and to welcome him to his late 20s, I took him to The Strip House. Neither of us had been before, but we had both heard great things about it, and so, were quite excited.
While getting a reservation was no problem, I was surprised to see that the restaurant was nearly full when we arrived. Regardless, we were immediately seated. If you've been to or heard about The Strip House, you already know that the decor is noteworthy. The space is small with a bar area in the front of the restaurant, and tables that run along the walls and one row of tables down the middle. I was actually surprised by how small the space was. The bar area feels trendy - not remotely steak house-ish. But just past the bar, the restaurant mellows out and while you don't feel like you are in Luger's, you definitely feel like these people will know how to cook a steak.
The walls are covered with old bordello shots for the 1920s or earlier - shots that I am sure were risque for their time. The wallpaper, the seating - it's all red, but surprisingly not overwhelming.
There were service missteps early on. Jeeves wanted a rye Manhattan and asked the waiter if the bar carried rye. He wasn't sure, but felt comfortable giving a dissertation on the difference between a rye and bourbon Manhattan, and his personal recommendations for what type of bourbon Rajeev should choose if he went with the bourbon (they did have rye, and that's what he had). I asked for a menu of wines by the glass, and was delighted to see that they had Angus "the Bull" cabernet sauvignon from Australia (2003). Mike and Gena got me into this wine at one of their tastings and it's definitely a steak-worthy red. But the waiter took forever to take our drink orders. When the waiter did bring Jeeves's Manhattan, he attempted to pour it with a flourish, but really just wound up splashing it all over Jeeves's arm.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there, because the food came promptly and at a good pace. We started off with the foie gras appetizer, which was marked as a table share. Indeed. It was an enormous piece and we couldn't finish it. It was served cold, which I wasn't expecting, and I wish the menu had been explicit about that. As it turns out, the menu says it's "foie gras torchon" but until tonight, I never knew what that meant. In fact, it means the foie gras was wrapped tightly in a towel, briefly poached, then cooled in a liquid (frequently sweet wine) for several days. Regardless, it was delicious, but very large.
For the main course, we split the porterhouse for two, medium rare, along with creamed spinach and goose-fat potatoes. The creamed spinach is cooked in a truffle oil, which my boyfriend Bruni went on a rant about this week. Regardless of what he thinks, the creamed spinach was un.believable. Rajeev went so far as to call it the "best creamed spinach in the city." The crisp goosefat potatoes were also lovely, especially because of the crispy skin in which they are baked (think chunks of potato cooked in a crispy shell), though I must say I thought they were a little too salty. And the steak? Perfect. Sure, sure, the strip was yummy and flavorful. But the filet! Oh, the filet - tender and melt-in-your-mouth, but still piquant, largely because of the peppery rub on the steak. I will most certainly dream about that filet.
Of course, we had dessert, because one needs something sweet at the end of a meal like that, and also, I had asked them to stick a birthday candle in whatever we ordered. We had the profiteroles - large and rich, and in my opinion, disappointing. But it didn't really matter - I was completely stuffed and only needed a few bites for satisfaction.
Other than the initial missteps, our service was solid (and I would be remiss if I didn't mention that the bread was also quite good). I have been asked how Strip House compares to Luger's and all I can say is that a comparison doesn't seem right. If you want steak and bacon, no frills, Luger's is where it's at. If you're up for more of a restaurant experience, with ambience, a nice wine list, and creamed spinach that simply cannot be beat, you'd have to go with Strip House. More aptly put - perhaps Luger's is where you would like to go for an outing with your poker buddies, but a gentleman friend's birthday calls for the Strip House. If you're companion happens to be both, then I suppose you can let him choose.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
The Light Show at the Parachute Jump
Two weeks ago, on a hot and sunny Saturday, I opted to drive into Brooklyn, pick up Philly, Emily and Jason, and head off to Coney Island for the Siren Festival. Siren is a hipster music fest that the Village Voice puts on every year. My knowledge of hipster music is limited (though it has grown thanks in large part to Philly, and of course, also to Jeeves and Jason and their blog) and there's the small part about me really not liking hipsters. But I do love Coney Island, hot dogs, the Wonder Wheel, the ocean, and this was an excuse to enjoy those things.
The lineup of bands was extensive, but we really only cared about seeing Art Brut and the Scissor Sisters. I had never seen or really heard too much Art Brut. But Philly took me to see Scissor Sisters for my birthday this year, and they are a lot of fun. But they wouldn't be on till later in the day, so we opted to head over early and get some Nathan's.
What can I say about Nathan's that I didn't say last year? Nothing. It was excellent as usual, and still a great deal on the beer - bucket (like a large soda at the movies) of Killian's for $4.50. I think my recent disappointment with Gray's Papaya was because I had eaten Nathan's a few days before.
Unfortunately it started to rain, but as luck would have it, we managed to get a table with an umbrella. Wooo! Eventually the sky cleared and we headed off to the batting cages. Some slow pitch for the ladies, medium for the gents, and we all gawked at the fast pitch (over 100 mph) and the dude who managed to make contact every time.
Next to the grossly overpriced Wonder Wheel - best view in Coney Island, even if it does cost $5. Eventually it was time to wander over to the stage to catch Art Brut. While there was a great breeze off the ocean and it's easily ten degrees cooler in Coney Island, it still get hot smooshed in with all those hipsters. As usual, the sceney kids were dressed in clothing that I can't imagine is terribly comfortable while standing around in th heat all day. But I guess that's the 80-year-old in me. Art Brut was a lot of fun, as were the Scissor Sisters, though by 8pm (when the Sisters went on) I was feeling pretty pooped and my footsies hurt.
As we walked back to the car, we got to see a crazy and interesting mix of locals, white dreadlocked kids with a sign that read "Hungry hungry hobos," and hipsters. As for the Parachute Jump, which was recently hooked up with all sorts of lights and you can allegedly see from Long Island, the lights weren't really on. Or if they were, I'd say that is one disappointing light show.
We made our way back to Brooklyn Heights for dinner at the Waterfront Ale House, which was enjoyable as usual. Except for the fact that we were all pretty much exhausted. Poor Jeeves, whose original plans got cancelled, found a group of geriatrics after his long subway ride out to Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure I was the crankiest of the bunch, which was definitely on parade as I drove home, cursing every cab driver all the way back to Jersey.
But the sleep was coma-like. And Coney Island is definitely worth turning into a grumpy pants.
The lineup of bands was extensive, but we really only cared about seeing Art Brut and the Scissor Sisters. I had never seen or really heard too much Art Brut. But Philly took me to see Scissor Sisters for my birthday this year, and they are a lot of fun. But they wouldn't be on till later in the day, so we opted to head over early and get some Nathan's.
What can I say about Nathan's that I didn't say last year? Nothing. It was excellent as usual, and still a great deal on the beer - bucket (like a large soda at the movies) of Killian's for $4.50. I think my recent disappointment with Gray's Papaya was because I had eaten Nathan's a few days before.
Unfortunately it started to rain, but as luck would have it, we managed to get a table with an umbrella. Wooo! Eventually the sky cleared and we headed off to the batting cages. Some slow pitch for the ladies, medium for the gents, and we all gawked at the fast pitch (over 100 mph) and the dude who managed to make contact every time.
Next to the grossly overpriced Wonder Wheel - best view in Coney Island, even if it does cost $5. Eventually it was time to wander over to the stage to catch Art Brut. While there was a great breeze off the ocean and it's easily ten degrees cooler in Coney Island, it still get hot smooshed in with all those hipsters. As usual, the sceney kids were dressed in clothing that I can't imagine is terribly comfortable while standing around in th heat all day. But I guess that's the 80-year-old in me. Art Brut was a lot of fun, as were the Scissor Sisters, though by 8pm (when the Sisters went on) I was feeling pretty pooped and my footsies hurt.
As we walked back to the car, we got to see a crazy and interesting mix of locals, white dreadlocked kids with a sign that read "Hungry hungry hobos," and hipsters. As for the Parachute Jump, which was recently hooked up with all sorts of lights and you can allegedly see from Long Island, the lights weren't really on. Or if they were, I'd say that is one disappointing light show.
We made our way back to Brooklyn Heights for dinner at the Waterfront Ale House, which was enjoyable as usual. Except for the fact that we were all pretty much exhausted. Poor Jeeves, whose original plans got cancelled, found a group of geriatrics after his long subway ride out to Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure I was the crankiest of the bunch, which was definitely on parade as I drove home, cursing every cab driver all the way back to Jersey.
But the sleep was coma-like. And Coney Island is definitely worth turning into a grumpy pants.
Friday, July 21, 2006
I Feel Love
My original plan for July 18th had been to go see the New York Philharmonic in Central Park play Beethoven's 5th. But then, late last week, Jeeves got word that he had scored a pair of tickets through work to see Madonna at Madison Square Garden. Woohoo! I had never seen Madonna in concert before, and like all girls who grew up in the 80s and early 90s, I have a soft spot for her.
Evening started off doubtfully – I wound up having to ride the elevator to the parking deck at work with the managing partner… and I had changed into street clothes. I hate it when that happens. And of course, it was a sauna outside. I had some time once I arrived in NYC to grab a bite to eat – I had been planning on checking out the 38th St. Restaurant. But on my sweltering walk up there, I got distracted by Gray's Papaya and decided a Recession Special was just what I wanted. I must confess – I think Gray's is a tad overrated. Maybe that's cause there was a thick white string running through one of my dogs. It might also be because I just ate at Nathan's on Coney Island last weekend. I hoped to run into Mr. Softy on my walk back to MSG, but he was nowhere to be found.
Jeeves and I met up at Rose Pizza in the LIRR wing of Penn Station, as per Philly's recommendation that they have the best beer prices. He was right – 32 oz Heineken for $5, and much cheaper if you wanted Bud or Bud Lite.
The concert was technically scheduled for 8, but Jeeves had heard that the Material Girl didn't go on till 9pm on other nights. So we headed upstairs around 8:40, got situated, and only had to wait a few minutes before the lights dimmed and the music started.
The show was a great time – what can I say, the lady knows how to entertain. She played a lot of stuff from her newest album, Confessions on a Dance Floor, but there were definitely decent amount of old hits, mostly remixed. The old(er) stuff included "Like a Virgin," "La Isla Bonita," "Live to Tell," "Music," "Drowned World," "Lucky Star," "Erotica," and "Ray of Light." In terms of Madge's 80s hits, I personally prefer "Material Girl" and "Dress You Up." And I prefer "Human Nature" to "Erotica" but hey, that's me. For my money, it doesn't get better than "Ray of Light" and she really killed it (in a good way). Of the new stuff, my personal favorite is "Jump" which was great, but "Sorry" was also a lot of fun. But I think it was definitely a highlight of the night when she came out singing "Future Lovers" and it morphed into a cover of Donna Summer's classic "I Feel Love."
Jeeves kept remarking that she was dancing up a storm, and yet still singing without being remotely out-of-breath. And yes, she really was singing - no lip-synching here. It must be all the pilates - the woman is in amazing shape, looked completely beautiful and is teeny tiny in real life.
There's not much more to say - I just can't think of anyone else, who at the age of 47, can come out in a Saturday Night Fever-style white suit and do a remix of her own song, "Music" to "Disco Inferno" and just sell it. The loudest thing in MSG that night wasn't Madge - it was the scream of her fans. And rightfully so.
Evening started off doubtfully – I wound up having to ride the elevator to the parking deck at work with the managing partner… and I had changed into street clothes. I hate it when that happens. And of course, it was a sauna outside. I had some time once I arrived in NYC to grab a bite to eat – I had been planning on checking out the 38th St. Restaurant. But on my sweltering walk up there, I got distracted by Gray's Papaya and decided a Recession Special was just what I wanted. I must confess – I think Gray's is a tad overrated. Maybe that's cause there was a thick white string running through one of my dogs. It might also be because I just ate at Nathan's on Coney Island last weekend. I hoped to run into Mr. Softy on my walk back to MSG, but he was nowhere to be found.
Jeeves and I met up at Rose Pizza in the LIRR wing of Penn Station, as per Philly's recommendation that they have the best beer prices. He was right – 32 oz Heineken for $5, and much cheaper if you wanted Bud or Bud Lite.
The concert was technically scheduled for 8, but Jeeves had heard that the Material Girl didn't go on till 9pm on other nights. So we headed upstairs around 8:40, got situated, and only had to wait a few minutes before the lights dimmed and the music started.
The show was a great time – what can I say, the lady knows how to entertain. She played a lot of stuff from her newest album, Confessions on a Dance Floor, but there were definitely decent amount of old hits, mostly remixed. The old(er) stuff included "Like a Virgin," "La Isla Bonita," "Live to Tell," "Music," "Drowned World," "Lucky Star," "Erotica," and "Ray of Light." In terms of Madge's 80s hits, I personally prefer "Material Girl" and "Dress You Up." And I prefer "Human Nature" to "Erotica" but hey, that's me. For my money, it doesn't get better than "Ray of Light" and she really killed it (in a good way). Of the new stuff, my personal favorite is "Jump" which was great, but "Sorry" was also a lot of fun. But I think it was definitely a highlight of the night when she came out singing "Future Lovers" and it morphed into a cover of Donna Summer's classic "I Feel Love."
Jeeves kept remarking that she was dancing up a storm, and yet still singing without being remotely out-of-breath. And yes, she really was singing - no lip-synching here. It must be all the pilates - the woman is in amazing shape, looked completely beautiful and is teeny tiny in real life.
There's not much more to say - I just can't think of anyone else, who at the age of 47, can come out in a Saturday Night Fever-style white suit and do a remix of her own song, "Music" to "Disco Inferno" and just sell it. The loudest thing in MSG that night wasn't Madge - it was the scream of her fans. And rightfully so.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Food, mostly tasty
I've gotten a lot of remarks over the last couple of weeks about all the cool places I eat. And I respond with "Actually, I've eaten at a lot more places lately than I blog about, but I'm worried that the perpetual food entries will get boring." Then I remembered who my readers are. So I decided to do an entry about all the other places I have been that haven't gotten mentioned yet.
Back in early June, Jim and I finally hit Fatty Crab. I have been excited about Fatty Crab ever since I read it's short review in the Times, and also, Eric Asimov's (whom I have dumped in favor of Frank Bruni) comments on in The Pour. In a word: disappointing. FC is located on Hudson Street in the Village. It's teeny tiny, and as such, there is usually a wait. But there was space to sit at the bar, and so we had a drink. FC's specialty is Malaysian street food, and so, food ought to be shared. We ordered the fatty duck, chicken claypot, short ribs and chicken wings. The claypot was quite tasty, with lots of tofu, which I liked, and the short ribs were tender and had a nice sauce. But the duck was disappointing as compared to Hunan Cottage and the chicken wings were undercooked. Jim says that the practice in China is to undercook the chicken, as compared to here where we burn the shit out of it. I personally prefer the latter method. And sadly, at the end of the meal I was still a bit hungry. Oh well.
As Jeeves was busy being a law student on my birthday, he took me out in June for a belated celebration to Yama, which he assured me would blow my mind. And it did. Apparently Yama is another place where you can expect a wait, and there's not much space inside to stand around, so it's best in good weather. But it is certainly worth standing around. Once inside, we marked off how may pieces of nigiri that we wanted (we had tuna, eel, yellow tail, salmon, mackeral, giant clam and maybe another piece which has subsequently escaped me, along with an eel avocado roll and yellowtail salmon roll). The pieces of sushi were completely enormous - I've never seen anything like it. The eel took me 4 bites to get through. Everything was superbly cut and tender, and the rolls? Heavenly. I daydream about the eel avocado roll - the eel sauce was perfect and the avocado was super ripe.
Other notable city eats - Great Jones Cafe for brunch which serves cajun spins on breakfast food. I had the eggs with ham on biscuits and smothered in gravy with a side of grits. It's pretty hard to find good grits in the northeast and my mom always made the best. But these grits definitely gave hers a run for their money. Creamy, but not too runny. And eggs with gravy? Brilliant. Jeeves swears by the bloody marys and indeed, they use fresh horseradish. And on this past Friday, very late, I went to Florent in the meatpacking district. Think of it as a french diner. I was boring and got eggs and bacon (sorry, but that's my go-to late at night in a diner-type setting), which came with a nice thick multi-grained toast and the bacon was well-done as requested. Jason was more adventurous and had the goat cheese and apple omellette and Jeeves had the veggie burger (which I think is bizarre, especially coming from someone who eats as many hamburgers as I do, but he insists is excellent). Also, I like that it's on Gansevoort Street, mainly because "Gansevoort" is fun to say.
What of New Jersey, you ask? Have I abandoned the food of my home state? Not at all. Wendy and I went to Reservoir in South Orange for her birthday. If you live in the area, you may know of it - great word of mouth. And with good reason. They serve up a nice thin-crust pizza. Wendy and I had one of those, some bruschetta (which was seriously out of this world - thick cuts of toasted bread which were crispy on the outside, but east to take a bite out of, with ridiculously fresh tomatoes and onions and a nice balsalmic maranade). We also had a penne dish which came with an excellent marinara sauce, mozarella and prosciutto. I highly recommend it, and in fact think I will suggest to Wendy that we head back there soon. Also, in typical Jersey , cash-only, Italian fashion, the prices were quite low - all that food for $30.
Well, another weekend has slipped by me and I had intentions of multiple entries, but as it is late, I have a cold... and sadly work tomorrow, I will have to postpone.
Back in early June, Jim and I finally hit Fatty Crab. I have been excited about Fatty Crab ever since I read it's short review in the Times, and also, Eric Asimov's (whom I have dumped in favor of Frank Bruni) comments on in The Pour. In a word: disappointing. FC is located on Hudson Street in the Village. It's teeny tiny, and as such, there is usually a wait. But there was space to sit at the bar, and so we had a drink. FC's specialty is Malaysian street food, and so, food ought to be shared. We ordered the fatty duck, chicken claypot, short ribs and chicken wings. The claypot was quite tasty, with lots of tofu, which I liked, and the short ribs were tender and had a nice sauce. But the duck was disappointing as compared to Hunan Cottage and the chicken wings were undercooked. Jim says that the practice in China is to undercook the chicken, as compared to here where we burn the shit out of it. I personally prefer the latter method. And sadly, at the end of the meal I was still a bit hungry. Oh well.
As Jeeves was busy being a law student on my birthday, he took me out in June for a belated celebration to Yama, which he assured me would blow my mind. And it did. Apparently Yama is another place where you can expect a wait, and there's not much space inside to stand around, so it's best in good weather. But it is certainly worth standing around. Once inside, we marked off how may pieces of nigiri that we wanted (we had tuna, eel, yellow tail, salmon, mackeral, giant clam and maybe another piece which has subsequently escaped me, along with an eel avocado roll and yellowtail salmon roll). The pieces of sushi were completely enormous - I've never seen anything like it. The eel took me 4 bites to get through. Everything was superbly cut and tender, and the rolls? Heavenly. I daydream about the eel avocado roll - the eel sauce was perfect and the avocado was super ripe.
Other notable city eats - Great Jones Cafe for brunch which serves cajun spins on breakfast food. I had the eggs with ham on biscuits and smothered in gravy with a side of grits. It's pretty hard to find good grits in the northeast and my mom always made the best. But these grits definitely gave hers a run for their money. Creamy, but not too runny. And eggs with gravy? Brilliant. Jeeves swears by the bloody marys and indeed, they use fresh horseradish. And on this past Friday, very late, I went to Florent in the meatpacking district. Think of it as a french diner. I was boring and got eggs and bacon (sorry, but that's my go-to late at night in a diner-type setting), which came with a nice thick multi-grained toast and the bacon was well-done as requested. Jason was more adventurous and had the goat cheese and apple omellette and Jeeves had the veggie burger (which I think is bizarre, especially coming from someone who eats as many hamburgers as I do, but he insists is excellent). Also, I like that it's on Gansevoort Street, mainly because "Gansevoort" is fun to say.
What of New Jersey, you ask? Have I abandoned the food of my home state? Not at all. Wendy and I went to Reservoir in South Orange for her birthday. If you live in the area, you may know of it - great word of mouth. And with good reason. They serve up a nice thin-crust pizza. Wendy and I had one of those, some bruschetta (which was seriously out of this world - thick cuts of toasted bread which were crispy on the outside, but east to take a bite out of, with ridiculously fresh tomatoes and onions and a nice balsalmic maranade). We also had a penne dish which came with an excellent marinara sauce, mozarella and prosciutto. I highly recommend it, and in fact think I will suggest to Wendy that we head back there soon. Also, in typical Jersey , cash-only, Italian fashion, the prices were quite low - all that food for $30.
Well, another weekend has slipped by me and I had intentions of multiple entries, but as it is late, I have a cold... and sadly work tomorrow, I will have to postpone.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Bacon that will buckle your knees
I love steak. Rare steak. Medium rare, if it's closer to rare. It's probably my favorite food, if one were to insist that I choose just one. Despite this love, I have never been to Peter Luger, by all accounts the mother ship for steak lovers. That is, until Saturday.
Our IT guy at work had tossed out the idea of a trip before co-worker K had quit, and she had gone ahead and made plans for a group of us to go. Originally, the trip was planned for the same day as Kate's wedding, and so I thought I wouldn't be able to go. I was understandably pouty, and Philly kindly offered to go with me to Luger (he has been on many occasions and proclaims their hamburger to be his favorite above all others), but my co-workers rescheduled so that I could join. While I have a great deal of fondness for Matlock, I am not close with anyone else who was going, and so to some extent, I wish I had been there with Phil & Co. or the law schoolers, but whatever.
Long story short, we all met up at Matlock's prior to steak dinner, because he lives in Brooklyn Heights and it's a lot easier for the Jerseyers to get there than to where Luger is located (Williamsburg, near the Marcy Ave subway stop, which is not the easiest subway line to get to) so that we could all head over together. And not surprisingly, K wound up not coming, but that's neither here nor there.
We arrived at PL in time for our reservation, all of starving. We were seated on the second floor, and as expected, the decor looks like it hasn't been updated since the 50s and the place is really rather brightly lit. Unexpectedely, I found the waiters to be a gregarious bunch, all quite polite and nice, and while I had been warned that requesting a menu would be met with "attitude," we were offered menus by our waiter and there was no roll of the eyes when we accepted the offer.
Phil had told me to be sure to order at least one slice of bacon prior my steak. I had asked for a description, but Phil simply said that it was fantastic and he didn't want to say any more than that. As our IT Guy remarked, "This is bacon that will buckle your knees." It actually did. A thick slice of Canadian bacon, and I really don't know what else to say about it except that it was the best damn slice of bacon I've ever had.
Matlock and I split the steak for three, medium rare, as did another pair at the table and we all pretty much stopped talking when the steak came. For the record, there is a steak for two, but the steak for three was surprisingly manageable when you split two orders between four people. The steak is a porterhouse cut, dry aged and broiled. It comes out on a plate, gets tipped up so all the juices and grease accumulate and get spooned over the steak. Also, the steak is sliced for you, making the sharing process a heck of a lot easier.
The steak was, and forgive me for all the superlatives flying left and right, the best I've ever had. I simply cannot compare it to other steaks - its flavor, thickness, juiciness were in a class by itself. I do, however, wish we had ordered the steak rare. The medium rare was a little too close to medium in my opinion (though the filet side was actually quite good in terms of rareness).
We also had sides - creamed spinach (delicious, though really, it's hard to muck up creamed spinach), German fried potatoes (think hash browns) and french fries. All quite good. Dessert? Matlock and I split the chocolate mousse cake with plenty of schlag (fresh whipped cream) on the side. Again, outstanding.
Yes, I wanted to die by the end of the meal, though that was temporary. A few weeks ago, I ate so many onion rings in a sitting, that I felt ill for the rest of the day. The nice thing about great food is that no matter how much you stuff yourself, you don't actually feel sick at the end of the meal. Very full? Yes. Maybe a little too full? That's debateable. But later in the evening when I was playing poker back in Manhattan, I did not feel nauseous when the guys ordered pizza. So there you go.
I look forward to many trips back to Peter Luger (hopefully next time with dearer friends). The end.
PS - I'll have my Deadwood and Entourage commentary up tomorrow evening. For now, it's bed time (I think my body is still digesting steak).
Our IT guy at work had tossed out the idea of a trip before co-worker K had quit, and she had gone ahead and made plans for a group of us to go. Originally, the trip was planned for the same day as Kate's wedding, and so I thought I wouldn't be able to go. I was understandably pouty, and Philly kindly offered to go with me to Luger (he has been on many occasions and proclaims their hamburger to be his favorite above all others), but my co-workers rescheduled so that I could join. While I have a great deal of fondness for Matlock, I am not close with anyone else who was going, and so to some extent, I wish I had been there with Phil & Co. or the law schoolers, but whatever.
Long story short, we all met up at Matlock's prior to steak dinner, because he lives in Brooklyn Heights and it's a lot easier for the Jerseyers to get there than to where Luger is located (Williamsburg, near the Marcy Ave subway stop, which is not the easiest subway line to get to) so that we could all head over together. And not surprisingly, K wound up not coming, but that's neither here nor there.
We arrived at PL in time for our reservation, all of starving. We were seated on the second floor, and as expected, the decor looks like it hasn't been updated since the 50s and the place is really rather brightly lit. Unexpectedely, I found the waiters to be a gregarious bunch, all quite polite and nice, and while I had been warned that requesting a menu would be met with "attitude," we were offered menus by our waiter and there was no roll of the eyes when we accepted the offer.
Phil had told me to be sure to order at least one slice of bacon prior my steak. I had asked for a description, but Phil simply said that it was fantastic and he didn't want to say any more than that. As our IT Guy remarked, "This is bacon that will buckle your knees." It actually did. A thick slice of Canadian bacon, and I really don't know what else to say about it except that it was the best damn slice of bacon I've ever had.
Matlock and I split the steak for three, medium rare, as did another pair at the table and we all pretty much stopped talking when the steak came. For the record, there is a steak for two, but the steak for three was surprisingly manageable when you split two orders between four people. The steak is a porterhouse cut, dry aged and broiled. It comes out on a plate, gets tipped up so all the juices and grease accumulate and get spooned over the steak. Also, the steak is sliced for you, making the sharing process a heck of a lot easier.
The steak was, and forgive me for all the superlatives flying left and right, the best I've ever had. I simply cannot compare it to other steaks - its flavor, thickness, juiciness were in a class by itself. I do, however, wish we had ordered the steak rare. The medium rare was a little too close to medium in my opinion (though the filet side was actually quite good in terms of rareness).
We also had sides - creamed spinach (delicious, though really, it's hard to muck up creamed spinach), German fried potatoes (think hash browns) and french fries. All quite good. Dessert? Matlock and I split the chocolate mousse cake with plenty of schlag (fresh whipped cream) on the side. Again, outstanding.
Yes, I wanted to die by the end of the meal, though that was temporary. A few weeks ago, I ate so many onion rings in a sitting, that I felt ill for the rest of the day. The nice thing about great food is that no matter how much you stuff yourself, you don't actually feel sick at the end of the meal. Very full? Yes. Maybe a little too full? That's debateable. But later in the evening when I was playing poker back in Manhattan, I did not feel nauseous when the guys ordered pizza. So there you go.
I look forward to many trips back to Peter Luger (hopefully next time with dearer friends). The end.
PS - I'll have my Deadwood and Entourage commentary up tomorrow evening. For now, it's bed time (I think my body is still digesting steak).
Friday, June 16, 2006
And one day you'll know where you are
I am on vacation this week, and I knew I had been bad about blogging when even Phil remarked about the lack of posting. Sorry.
Wednesday found me in the city. First stop - the Shake Shack to pick up lunch for Anhabelle and myself. Then to crappy Times Square to surprise Anh with lunch. We chilled in her office briefly, enjoying our coldish burgers (getting uptown took longer than anticipated) before we headed over to day care to visit Ben. I haven't seen Ben in nearly 6 weeks, and he has gotten much bigger. Interestingly, Ben has one of the only "normal" names of the kids in daycare - some of the names I'm pretty sure are made-up. But all the kids are pretty darn cute (not as cute as Ben, but still).
Next I headed up to Willis's law firm in the "civilized" (Anh's term, and can you blame her? working in Times Square sucks) part of town over on Park Ave. Will and I chilled in his office with it's creepy glass doors and did our usual schpiel. Will and I would like to be in private practice together, but realize this would be a pointless exercise - no work would get done and we'd just sit around drinking coffee, swapping stories.
I eventually made it over to West End to poker buddy Sharif's apartment. Reefy and I were both shut out of the Radiohead tickets when they went on sale on Ticketmaster, so we pooled out resources and got a pair together off of ebay. I got into Radiohead in college, thanks to roomie Janet. And interstingly, I'm pretty sure Philly decided I was okay when he asked me one day at lunch if I liked Radiohead and I answered with an enthusiastic yes.
I have never seen Radiohead live, so I was pretty damn excited. But first, Sharif made us some alcoholic fruit smoothies. Yummy. Anyway, back to the band. Totally lived up to the hype. I dropped a large chunk of change (the better part of my NJ tax refund) on this ticket - far more than I've ever spent on a single ticket before and it's a little hard for me to say at this moment if it was worth it. I think it was, though.
Anyway, I got to hear a lot of songs I love, including "The Tourist" off of OK Computer (my favorite Radiohead album) but they didn't play "Let Down" which is my favorite song off that album (other highlights of the evening for me were "Kid A," "Paranoid Android," "No Surprises" and "Everything In Its Right Place.") It's interesting now, to listen to this album that Janet played so many times in our room and wonder why I love that one song in particular more than the others. I haven't reached a clearly articulated reason yet, but I'll let you know when I do.
The evening ended at Ginger Man, which was once again quite good, and this time not colored by a burger coma. And in other, yet related news, Philly and Emily got engaged this week. Phil is one of those people in my life, because he has been so prominently featured in my blog, that people who have never met him will ask me how he is doing. So it seems apropos to end with that, and offer the warmest of congratulations for what I am sure will be a very happy life together.
Wednesday found me in the city. First stop - the Shake Shack to pick up lunch for Anhabelle and myself. Then to crappy Times Square to surprise Anh with lunch. We chilled in her office briefly, enjoying our coldish burgers (getting uptown took longer than anticipated) before we headed over to day care to visit Ben. I haven't seen Ben in nearly 6 weeks, and he has gotten much bigger. Interestingly, Ben has one of the only "normal" names of the kids in daycare - some of the names I'm pretty sure are made-up. But all the kids are pretty darn cute (not as cute as Ben, but still).
Next I headed up to Willis's law firm in the "civilized" (Anh's term, and can you blame her? working in Times Square sucks) part of town over on Park Ave. Will and I chilled in his office with it's creepy glass doors and did our usual schpiel. Will and I would like to be in private practice together, but realize this would be a pointless exercise - no work would get done and we'd just sit around drinking coffee, swapping stories.
I eventually made it over to West End to poker buddy Sharif's apartment. Reefy and I were both shut out of the Radiohead tickets when they went on sale on Ticketmaster, so we pooled out resources and got a pair together off of ebay. I got into Radiohead in college, thanks to roomie Janet. And interstingly, I'm pretty sure Philly decided I was okay when he asked me one day at lunch if I liked Radiohead and I answered with an enthusiastic yes.
I have never seen Radiohead live, so I was pretty damn excited. But first, Sharif made us some alcoholic fruit smoothies. Yummy. Anyway, back to the band. Totally lived up to the hype. I dropped a large chunk of change (the better part of my NJ tax refund) on this ticket - far more than I've ever spent on a single ticket before and it's a little hard for me to say at this moment if it was worth it. I think it was, though.
Anyway, I got to hear a lot of songs I love, including "The Tourist" off of OK Computer (my favorite Radiohead album) but they didn't play "Let Down" which is my favorite song off that album (other highlights of the evening for me were "Kid A," "Paranoid Android," "No Surprises" and "Everything In Its Right Place.") It's interesting now, to listen to this album that Janet played so many times in our room and wonder why I love that one song in particular more than the others. I haven't reached a clearly articulated reason yet, but I'll let you know when I do.
The evening ended at Ginger Man, which was once again quite good, and this time not colored by a burger coma. And in other, yet related news, Philly and Emily got engaged this week. Phil is one of those people in my life, because he has been so prominently featured in my blog, that people who have never met him will ask me how he is doing. So it seems apropos to end with that, and offer the warmest of congratulations for what I am sure will be a very happy life together.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
In the Continuing Quest for the Perfect Burger
Phil and the blog A Hamburger Today have raved about Shake Shack in Madison Square Park (here's AHT's review). On Sunday, Phil, Jeeves, Jason and I met up to partake of these alleged tasty burgers.
The Shack opened in 2004. It is, according to its website, a "roadside" foodstand. Here's the deal - you stand in line, order your food, wait for said food, grab a table and eat. Given the inexpensive prices, rave reviews, and quality burger, the lines can be quite long. But as Frank Bruni of the Times puts it, it's the Dairy Queen of Manhattan, and who can pass that up?
I arrived early - at about 7:20 and Phil was already in line - we were soon joined by our burger comrades, and let me say - as the weather was lovely, the company lively, and the smell of burgers, fries and shakes intoxicating, the wait did not seem as long as it was. How long was it? It took about an hour from getting on line to sitting down at a table with our food.
I had a Shack Burger, and it was certainly tasty - the meat quality, which AHT pointed out, is better than most of the inexpensive burgers. My one complaint is that all the burgers are cooked the same (medium), unlike the Burger Joint, where it's cooked to specifications. And while the "shack sauce" was good enough, I didn't think it was out of this world - in fact, it was maybe a little to tangy for me. The french fries would have been disappointing, except that I had cheese fries and I think the cheese was just what these fries needed - very tasty. And the black and white milkshake - heavenly.
A little too heavenly. I had that uncomfortable "I ate too much" feeling, but could not stop sucking down my milkshake. Phil made the mistake of ordering a "concrete" which is a frozen custard. Basically, it's like a very large and very serious DQ blizzard. Phil had the Shack Attack concrete, which was chocolate custard, hot fudge, chocolate truffle cookie dough, valrhona chocolate chunks and chocolate sprinkles (Wendy, this was sooo in your wheel house). As Phil would say, this dessert was no joke. I had one bite and that was more than enough for me. After a double shack burger and fries, Phil did an admirable job on the concrete, but I think he was hurting after the fact. Jeeves had a Chicago dog along with a shack burger and a shake. I think the Shack lived up to our expectations, though Jeeves and I are both inclined to say Burger Joint might have a better burger.
Jason left us and we trudged up to The Ginger Man, and I would have been excited to go there under normal circumstances. GM is primarily known for its ridiculous selection of beers, but at this point a beer was about the last thing my stomach wanted. Phil and Rajeev kept asking if I was okay, but what I really wanted to do was lapse into a burger-induced coma. Instead, I sipped my Lindemann's Peche (delicious) and stared into space, occasionally throwing in my two cents about fantasy baseball, Phil's beard, and my tummy ache. After about an hour, I came to, but it was pretty touch and go there for awhile.
I really did like The Ginger Man, though - it had a really nice, laid back vibe, comfy chairs and the aforementioned beer selection. I would definitely return.
And as for the Shack, I would certainly return there again, so long as I had good company to stand in line with me. And perhaps I could exercise some restraint and lay off the cheese fries. Or the milkshake. But seriously? It was a really good shake.
The Shack opened in 2004. It is, according to its website, a "roadside" foodstand. Here's the deal - you stand in line, order your food, wait for said food, grab a table and eat. Given the inexpensive prices, rave reviews, and quality burger, the lines can be quite long. But as Frank Bruni of the Times puts it, it's the Dairy Queen of Manhattan, and who can pass that up?
I arrived early - at about 7:20 and Phil was already in line - we were soon joined by our burger comrades, and let me say - as the weather was lovely, the company lively, and the smell of burgers, fries and shakes intoxicating, the wait did not seem as long as it was. How long was it? It took about an hour from getting on line to sitting down at a table with our food.
I had a Shack Burger, and it was certainly tasty - the meat quality, which AHT pointed out, is better than most of the inexpensive burgers. My one complaint is that all the burgers are cooked the same (medium), unlike the Burger Joint, where it's cooked to specifications. And while the "shack sauce" was good enough, I didn't think it was out of this world - in fact, it was maybe a little to tangy for me. The french fries would have been disappointing, except that I had cheese fries and I think the cheese was just what these fries needed - very tasty. And the black and white milkshake - heavenly.
A little too heavenly. I had that uncomfortable "I ate too much" feeling, but could not stop sucking down my milkshake. Phil made the mistake of ordering a "concrete" which is a frozen custard. Basically, it's like a very large and very serious DQ blizzard. Phil had the Shack Attack concrete, which was chocolate custard, hot fudge, chocolate truffle cookie dough, valrhona chocolate chunks and chocolate sprinkles (Wendy, this was sooo in your wheel house). As Phil would say, this dessert was no joke. I had one bite and that was more than enough for me. After a double shack burger and fries, Phil did an admirable job on the concrete, but I think he was hurting after the fact. Jeeves had a Chicago dog along with a shack burger and a shake. I think the Shack lived up to our expectations, though Jeeves and I are both inclined to say Burger Joint might have a better burger.
Jason left us and we trudged up to The Ginger Man, and I would have been excited to go there under normal circumstances. GM is primarily known for its ridiculous selection of beers, but at this point a beer was about the last thing my stomach wanted. Phil and Rajeev kept asking if I was okay, but what I really wanted to do was lapse into a burger-induced coma. Instead, I sipped my Lindemann's Peche (delicious) and stared into space, occasionally throwing in my two cents about fantasy baseball, Phil's beard, and my tummy ache. After about an hour, I came to, but it was pretty touch and go there for awhile.
I really did like The Ginger Man, though - it had a really nice, laid back vibe, comfy chairs and the aforementioned beer selection. I would definitely return.
And as for the Shack, I would certainly return there again, so long as I had good company to stand in line with me. And perhaps I could exercise some restraint and lay off the cheese fries. Or the milkshake. But seriously? It was a really good shake.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
The Pizza's the Thing
I grew up in far northern New Jersey. So far north, in fact, that when I was in college and my boyfriend referred to his hometown of West Orange as being northern New Jersey, Wendy and I scoffed at him and informed him that West Orange was in fact, central New Jersey. I have subsequently changed my opinion on this topic, as has Wendy, probably because we both now live in Essex County.
Anyway, one of my deeply held prejudices in favor of my childhood county of Bergen (aside from the fact that the malls are just vastly better up there) is that you cannot get proper thin-crust pizza anywhere but Kinchley's Tavern in Ramsey. Some of you may recall that I have a dear friend from college, Lauren, who now lives in Kansas. Lauren is engaged to an old high school chum of mine, Bill (yes, I introduced them and I take full credit for their happiness, but if they ever fight, it's entirely not my fault). Bill loves Kinchley's and I dare say it is what he misses most about Jersey. Can't say that I blame him - Kinchley's is pretty great.
Anyway, some years ago I went to the Star Tavern in Orange, the heart of Essex County (the physical heart, not the emotional one). The pizza was good, reasonably priced, and the joint is a lot less.... grimy than Kinchley's, but still, the pizza was not quite as good.
So it was with some trepidation that I approached the pizza at Lombardi's in Cedar Grove with Mike and Gena last night. Mike and Gena have made Lombardi's their Friday night tradition as of late, and as Mike put it - "I eat as much as I could possibly eat and drink as much as I could possibly drink and I have never paid more than $30." Sounded like a good deal. Also, as you may recall from previous posts, Mike and Gena's taste in food is impeccable and I am always inclined to trust their stellar reviews.
For the record, this Lombardi's is not related to the Lombardi's in New York. The NJ Lombardi's does however also have a location in Fairfield (Mike and Gena prefer the Cedar Grove branch, though, cause it's a bit cosier).
I met up with Mike and Gena a bit after 8pm - the restaurant is located in a strip mall with the Food Town. As such, it's not a huge place, but it is packed with people, which is always a good sign for the quality of food. There is a long bar, with about half a dozen flat screen TVs behind it showing various baseball games. Clearly my kind of place.
We had a bit of a wait for our table - about fifteen minutes. Once we sat down, we started things off with a Lombardi's Plate appetizer (broccoli rabe sauteed in olive oil with garlic, sausage, hot and sweet peppers, slices of cheese and potato chips on top), some stuffed artichokes and a sausage platter of some sort. We followed this up with four pizza pies (I should mention that four of Mike and Gena's friends joined us, so it wasn't just the three of us eating all this food). Gena branched out and had the penne a la vodka. The pizza was razor thin, crispy, with bubbling slightly browned cheese, and a perfect balance of sauce with that. I loved it. It was much better than Star Tavern, and I think I might even prefer it to Kinchley's.
To top it all off, the place itself is filled with interesting sport memorabilia, and is better maintained than Kinchley's. The service is better too, though I must admit that might have something to do with the fact that Mike and Gena are regulars, and have a favorite waitress who takes excellent care of them - I never sat with an empty beer and when we were done with our meal, we sat talking for well over an hour without any pressure to leave. I guess I will have to cast off another Bergen County prejudice.
Let me take this opportunity to remind everyone that Zagat's survey for New York restaurants is currently open until May 14th. Remember - if you do the survey, you get a free copy of the book sent to you when it's published, so get judging!
Anyway, one of my deeply held prejudices in favor of my childhood county of Bergen (aside from the fact that the malls are just vastly better up there) is that you cannot get proper thin-crust pizza anywhere but Kinchley's Tavern in Ramsey. Some of you may recall that I have a dear friend from college, Lauren, who now lives in Kansas. Lauren is engaged to an old high school chum of mine, Bill (yes, I introduced them and I take full credit for their happiness, but if they ever fight, it's entirely not my fault). Bill loves Kinchley's and I dare say it is what he misses most about Jersey. Can't say that I blame him - Kinchley's is pretty great.
Anyway, some years ago I went to the Star Tavern in Orange, the heart of Essex County (the physical heart, not the emotional one). The pizza was good, reasonably priced, and the joint is a lot less.... grimy than Kinchley's, but still, the pizza was not quite as good.
So it was with some trepidation that I approached the pizza at Lombardi's in Cedar Grove with Mike and Gena last night. Mike and Gena have made Lombardi's their Friday night tradition as of late, and as Mike put it - "I eat as much as I could possibly eat and drink as much as I could possibly drink and I have never paid more than $30." Sounded like a good deal. Also, as you may recall from previous posts, Mike and Gena's taste in food is impeccable and I am always inclined to trust their stellar reviews.
For the record, this Lombardi's is not related to the Lombardi's in New York. The NJ Lombardi's does however also have a location in Fairfield (Mike and Gena prefer the Cedar Grove branch, though, cause it's a bit cosier).
I met up with Mike and Gena a bit after 8pm - the restaurant is located in a strip mall with the Food Town. As such, it's not a huge place, but it is packed with people, which is always a good sign for the quality of food. There is a long bar, with about half a dozen flat screen TVs behind it showing various baseball games. Clearly my kind of place.
We had a bit of a wait for our table - about fifteen minutes. Once we sat down, we started things off with a Lombardi's Plate appetizer (broccoli rabe sauteed in olive oil with garlic, sausage, hot and sweet peppers, slices of cheese and potato chips on top), some stuffed artichokes and a sausage platter of some sort. We followed this up with four pizza pies (I should mention that four of Mike and Gena's friends joined us, so it wasn't just the three of us eating all this food). Gena branched out and had the penne a la vodka. The pizza was razor thin, crispy, with bubbling slightly browned cheese, and a perfect balance of sauce with that. I loved it. It was much better than Star Tavern, and I think I might even prefer it to Kinchley's.
To top it all off, the place itself is filled with interesting sport memorabilia, and is better maintained than Kinchley's. The service is better too, though I must admit that might have something to do with the fact that Mike and Gena are regulars, and have a favorite waitress who takes excellent care of them - I never sat with an empty beer and when we were done with our meal, we sat talking for well over an hour without any pressure to leave. I guess I will have to cast off another Bergen County prejudice.
Let me take this opportunity to remind everyone that Zagat's survey for New York restaurants is currently open until May 14th. Remember - if you do the survey, you get a free copy of the book sent to you when it's published, so get judging!
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Well, you are VIP.
Friday night's plans consisted of meeting up with Phil, his lady-friend Emily, and Jason, who was Rajeev's partner in One Louder crime until Jeeves became a law student and ceased to exist. I had dutifully made reservations for 9:30 at Zerza, a Moroccan restaurant in the East Village. Long-time readers may recall that I went to Zerza last year, but that was just for drinks and a hookah.
On that occasion, the food had looked excellent and it seemed like the sort of low-key place I would like to celebrate my birthday. So that was the plan.
Zerza takes up two floors and is quite small. The downstairs consists of a small bar (with a very pregnant bartender) and a few tables. There are lots of traditional Moroccan lanterns about (I really can't get enough of dim lighting. It's my favorite). Upstairs is a small dining room which, on our evening, accomodated two tables of 10, two tables of 4 and one table of 2.
When we entered, the downstairs bar was full, as were the tables. Clearly, the place is well-subscribed. I told the "host" about our reservation and he stared blankly at me and ran to find the owner. The owner seemed to look less surprised, and then disappeared to "check on our table." He came back about 5 minutes later - there was a party still at our table, but they had paid their bill and would surely be gone momentarily.
Momentarily turned into 10, then 15 minutes. And I was getting very cranky. Several years ago, something similar happened to me at Makeda's in New Brunswick. We sat at the bar for 40 minutes, were treated rudely by the hostesses, until I finally had a very polite, but firm hissy fit. Apparently the magic words at Makeda's are "We're leaving and going to North Star Cafe." I've never seen an owner swoop in so fast with free wine and a table.
But in these hard emotional times, "Polite but firm hissy fit" Megan has gone on vacation, and has been replaced by "Lame-o pushover who eventually stomps her feet and whines like a five year old" Megan. Philly mentioned an Indian restaurant down the street, but I really was looking forward to some tea and a hookah after dinner. Luckily I did not have to resort to stomping my feet - the owner came over and explained that the party at our table just would not leave, but another party would be leaving shortly and would we please have a drink on the house? Yes, we would. Drink in hand (and as Emily pointed out, everything seems a little better once they give you a drink), we now had time to critically assess the group at the bar - about six attractive women, all foreign, and three ugly, older and poorly dressed men. My guess? Mail-order brides.
We finally got our table, about 50 minutes after our 9:30 reservation, and we got a nice bottle of Moroccan wine on the house for our trouble. Everything else went off without a hitch - the service was great, with a sweet, earthy waitress, and the bellydancer came up around 10:45. (Apparently the douchebags who had our table and wouldn't leave had been waiting for the belly dancer.... they were still up there when we were seated, but left before the bellydancer).
We started off with the Meze Plate (hummus, zaaluk and spinach bakoula) and saganaki, which is a marinated and fried feta cheese. The saganaki was unbelievable. Up there with the Yakitori Totto chicken livers. I had the tagine marougia - short ribs - as my entree and they were really fantastic - soft and tender, and marinated in a sauce made slightly sweet by stewed prunes. Philly had the kefta tagine, which are spiced meatballs. They were nice, but I definitely preferred my short ribs.
We finished off the meal with a large pot of mint tea. Mom and I went to Marakech (also to Essouira and through the Atlas Mountains) right after I graduated college. In the evenings, we would sit outside after dinner and have amazing mint tea. You just can't get mint tea like that here, but this was pretty close. Our dinner made me think of that trip, of how much fun Mom and I had, and it was a nice, pleasant memory that didn't cause me any pangs of grief or loss.
Phil asked the waitress if we could get a hookah upstairs (no one else had had one, and it seemed like it might be the sort of thing one can only have in the bar area). Our waitress: "Well, you are VIP, so let me see what I can do." Yeah, we got our hookah - apple flavored to be precise.
And we shut the place down. Being VIPs, we weren't hustled out, so we left of our own volition around 2am. A year older, none the wiser, with a good meal and some very good friends - I would say it was a successful night.
On that occasion, the food had looked excellent and it seemed like the sort of low-key place I would like to celebrate my birthday. So that was the plan.
Zerza takes up two floors and is quite small. The downstairs consists of a small bar (with a very pregnant bartender) and a few tables. There are lots of traditional Moroccan lanterns about (I really can't get enough of dim lighting. It's my favorite). Upstairs is a small dining room which, on our evening, accomodated two tables of 10, two tables of 4 and one table of 2.
When we entered, the downstairs bar was full, as were the tables. Clearly, the place is well-subscribed. I told the "host" about our reservation and he stared blankly at me and ran to find the owner. The owner seemed to look less surprised, and then disappeared to "check on our table." He came back about 5 minutes later - there was a party still at our table, but they had paid their bill and would surely be gone momentarily.
Momentarily turned into 10, then 15 minutes. And I was getting very cranky. Several years ago, something similar happened to me at Makeda's in New Brunswick. We sat at the bar for 40 minutes, were treated rudely by the hostesses, until I finally had a very polite, but firm hissy fit. Apparently the magic words at Makeda's are "We're leaving and going to North Star Cafe." I've never seen an owner swoop in so fast with free wine and a table.
But in these hard emotional times, "Polite but firm hissy fit" Megan has gone on vacation, and has been replaced by "Lame-o pushover who eventually stomps her feet and whines like a five year old" Megan. Philly mentioned an Indian restaurant down the street, but I really was looking forward to some tea and a hookah after dinner. Luckily I did not have to resort to stomping my feet - the owner came over and explained that the party at our table just would not leave, but another party would be leaving shortly and would we please have a drink on the house? Yes, we would. Drink in hand (and as Emily pointed out, everything seems a little better once they give you a drink), we now had time to critically assess the group at the bar - about six attractive women, all foreign, and three ugly, older and poorly dressed men. My guess? Mail-order brides.
We finally got our table, about 50 minutes after our 9:30 reservation, and we got a nice bottle of Moroccan wine on the house for our trouble. Everything else went off without a hitch - the service was great, with a sweet, earthy waitress, and the bellydancer came up around 10:45. (Apparently the douchebags who had our table and wouldn't leave had been waiting for the belly dancer.... they were still up there when we were seated, but left before the bellydancer).
We started off with the Meze Plate (hummus, zaaluk and spinach bakoula) and saganaki, which is a marinated and fried feta cheese. The saganaki was unbelievable. Up there with the Yakitori Totto chicken livers. I had the tagine marougia - short ribs - as my entree and they were really fantastic - soft and tender, and marinated in a sauce made slightly sweet by stewed prunes. Philly had the kefta tagine, which are spiced meatballs. They were nice, but I definitely preferred my short ribs.
We finished off the meal with a large pot of mint tea. Mom and I went to Marakech (also to Essouira and through the Atlas Mountains) right after I graduated college. In the evenings, we would sit outside after dinner and have amazing mint tea. You just can't get mint tea like that here, but this was pretty close. Our dinner made me think of that trip, of how much fun Mom and I had, and it was a nice, pleasant memory that didn't cause me any pangs of grief or loss.
Phil asked the waitress if we could get a hookah upstairs (no one else had had one, and it seemed like it might be the sort of thing one can only have in the bar area). Our waitress: "Well, you are VIP, so let me see what I can do." Yeah, we got our hookah - apple flavored to be precise.
And we shut the place down. Being VIPs, we weren't hustled out, so we left of our own volition around 2am. A year older, none the wiser, with a good meal and some very good friends - I would say it was a successful night.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Nice hat
Saturday was Kate's bridal shower, and if I had a photo of the paper plate hat I made her, I would post it. Sadly, the only photo of the hat that actually came out has me in it and I am strictly opposed to all me pictures. So you will have to envision the paper plate hat. It looked good.
Anyway, Sunday afternoon, Kate and I took advantage of the beautiful day and went into the city. After driving around the East Village for about ten minutes, Eagle Eye Kate spotted a place to park that I hadn't even noticed. Next stop? Hasaki! Hooray! We split the age tofu, which was disappointing, and honestly, I'm starting to wonder why I order it out when I know that no place can beat the age togu at Tawara. Anyway, Kate had the chirashi and a piece of uni, while I had a yellow tail roll, California roll and eel roll. All excellent. I'm not normally a fan of California rolls, by Hasaki uses real crab meat, so it's yummy.
We walked about, down to Astor Place, where we had some green tea lattes at Starbucks. I looked at all the students and remembered that sometimes, like on a fair spring Sunday, it's nice not to be in school anymore. Next stop, street fair, where Kate had some kettle corn and I eyed, but resisted, the mozarella arepas. Last stop: the East Village branch of Bar Veloce, where we both sampled the mango grappa. You may remember from our Babbo trip last year that Kate and I went to the Chelsea BV and had clementine grappa. That was what we really wanted, but apparently the infused grappa menu is constantly changing. Sigh. Anyway, our bartender was sufficiently impressed that we were drinking grappa that early in the evening (it was 6pm).
I had really wanted to take Kate to Angel's Share, which is right next to Hasaki - I had just been a week ago and was eager for Kate to try the Rye Manhattan. Sadly, they don't open till 7pm, so we'll have to save it for another trip.
Anyway, after our grappa, it was time for Kate to catch her train back to the District. As I am missing my mom something fierce these days, and with my dad in Canada, visiting his brother, I was especially sad to see her go. But as the Buddha said, nothing exists entirely alone, everything is in relation to everything else. So I went home to my cat.
Anyway, Sunday afternoon, Kate and I took advantage of the beautiful day and went into the city. After driving around the East Village for about ten minutes, Eagle Eye Kate spotted a place to park that I hadn't even noticed. Next stop? Hasaki! Hooray! We split the age tofu, which was disappointing, and honestly, I'm starting to wonder why I order it out when I know that no place can beat the age togu at Tawara. Anyway, Kate had the chirashi and a piece of uni, while I had a yellow tail roll, California roll and eel roll. All excellent. I'm not normally a fan of California rolls, by Hasaki uses real crab meat, so it's yummy.
We walked about, down to Astor Place, where we had some green tea lattes at Starbucks. I looked at all the students and remembered that sometimes, like on a fair spring Sunday, it's nice not to be in school anymore. Next stop, street fair, where Kate had some kettle corn and I eyed, but resisted, the mozarella arepas. Last stop: the East Village branch of Bar Veloce, where we both sampled the mango grappa. You may remember from our Babbo trip last year that Kate and I went to the Chelsea BV and had clementine grappa. That was what we really wanted, but apparently the infused grappa menu is constantly changing. Sigh. Anyway, our bartender was sufficiently impressed that we were drinking grappa that early in the evening (it was 6pm).
I had really wanted to take Kate to Angel's Share, which is right next to Hasaki - I had just been a week ago and was eager for Kate to try the Rye Manhattan. Sadly, they don't open till 7pm, so we'll have to save it for another trip.
Anyway, after our grappa, it was time for Kate to catch her train back to the District. As I am missing my mom something fierce these days, and with my dad in Canada, visiting his brother, I was especially sad to see her go. But as the Buddha said, nothing exists entirely alone, everything is in relation to everything else. So I went home to my cat.
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