Arte Around the Corner

Of the neighborhoods I frequent in the city, the upper west side ranks highest in terms of baked goods. While the rest of the city sleeps in on weekends, the upper westsiders and eastsiders, typically a more mature bunch with children in tow are up and about by 9-10 am, hitting Fairway and the other supermarkets for cooking ingredients and on the lookout for breakfast and strong coffee. There are fewer generic bagel chains and more independent bakeries, and Arte around the Corner is one such shop, simultaneously a specialty store for Italian foodstuffs and purveyor of very gooey and addictive pastries and cakes. This morning, a honey and blueberry loaf looked extremely attractive on the cake stand, with pristine blueberries lined uniformly in the crack of the loaf cake like a row of edible buttons. I picked another honey-flavored item, a honey and fig muffin. Unlike regular muffins, it was a lot moister, the crumbs were less compact and suffused with the heady scent of honey. The muffin is not perfectly dome shaped, as the more liquid batter ran over the baking tin, rendering crispier bits that linked one muffin from the other. I picked up chunks of fresh figs in each bite, the caramelized fruit contributing to the overall stickiness of the muffin, sticky enough to have to lick my fingers afterwards. The muffin is paired with a potent cup of coffee. Not a bad start to Sunday at all.

Arte Around the Corner

274 Columbus Ave (73rd St)

Babbo

There is a reason why people do not make late dinner plans on a Monday night, regardless of how hot the restaurant is and how perfect the food is. The thing is, after a long day easing into the workweek, especially when you have to wake up at 5am the next day to make it into the office come Tuesday, you really do not have the mood to eat multiple courses and enjoy yourself like you would on Friday night. So under that premise, I must say that my meal at Babbo was less than I expected.
Of all the restaurants I've ever visited, Babbo, by virtue of its innovative Italian menu, modest prices and the fame of its owner Mario Batali, is by far the most difficult to get into. To get a table, be prepared to call one month in advance, at the strike of 10am, and be prepared to press redial multiple times. Rosie was probably put on hold for about 30 mins before she scored a table for 4 on a Monday night for Yanru's belated birthday dinner. That evening, we met in the restaurant, and huddled in one corner of the extremely crowded bar area, cramped full with diners without reservations (another way to score a seat without having to go through the trouble of making the calls). We were dismayed to find ourselves having to wait an extra 15-20 mins for the table before us to clear out, given it was 915 pm, we've been up since 5am for some of us, and were starving. The hostess though, did try to offer some help by bringing glasses of water to us while we waited.
Once we were seated, things did improve. For one, the upper floor where we were seated was much mellower than the circus downstairs, and the townhouse setting was urbane and warm. Water glasses were filled and chewy Italian peasant bread brought to us while we contemplated the menu, finally settling for 2 appetizers to share and a pasta each. Appetizers came fairly swiftly, an artfully presented plate of fresh salted sardines served with a cool caramelized fennel salad that I could not get enough of, and an exotic sounding Lamb's Tongue Vinaigrette with morel mushrooms and a 3 minute egg that was more cooked than poached. Yanru swooned over the unique flavors of the dish, although the rest of us were slightly more ambivalent and lamb's tongue, well tastes like beef tongue but gamier, but nothing ventured, nothing gain!
The pastas took some time to arrive but when they did, they were very good. I really enjoyed my black tangle of squid ink spaghetti, cooked al dente and tossed with fresh rock shrimp and spicy pancetta. I loved that the pancetta did not overwhelm the more subtle sweetness of the shrimp and the slivers of green chile provided extra heat. Rosie's spaghetti with tomato sauce, lobster and chives took me by surprise. While my dining companions were not too impressed by the ordinariness of the tomato sauce, I loved the introduction of subtly garlicky chives- which I only associate with chinese pork dumplings- enhancing the natural sweetness of the lobster flesh. It would have been even better if the tomato sauce was less sweet and more acidic. I went home thinking about the dish and ways to recreate it, given its simplicity. Yanru's beef cheek ravioli is probably the most complicated, with the winy braised beef cheeks shredded and stuffed into large packets and served with trace amounts of truffle oil. Very tasty but more a fall dish than summer one. Fennie's orecchiette was perhaps the most disappointing as it was more chewy than the rest of the pastas and bordered on undercooked. The sausage and broccoli rabe combination also played with sweet, bitter and spicy flavors but seemed more traditional and thus less impressive.
We skipped dessert as it was 11pm by the time we finished our entrees, and no one (except me) was in the mood to linger over coffee and dessert. What a waste though, because the dessert menu and our neighbors' plates looked fantastic. Oh well, I'll just have to come back another time.
When friends asked me about my dinner at Babbo, I told them that the food was good, but maybe not worth the effort of making endless calls and taking ridiculous timeslots for a meal (915 was great compared to the 1030 or 11 pm times they've offered for weekends). However, despite all that, I may find myself calling one of these days, 30 days in advance of a weekend night and eat again, this time not having to fear missing my bedtime, for the desserts that I've missed and the great pasta that is to be eaten.

Babbo
110 Waverly Place

Casellula

I remember a time when cheese meant tasteless Kraft singles on toast and the green bottles of powdered parmesan that I avoided like plague everytime my mum makes spaghetti. Even then I knew those stuff wasn't real cheese. Now that my palate has grown up, so has the humble grilled cheese sandwich. At Casellula, a cheese and wine bar devoted to the finer things in life on Saturday afternoon, Gerrie and I found for ourselves a contender for best grill cheese and tomato soup pairing. 4 folded wedges of toast are grilled till golden brown, and between the slices of bread is a luscious blend of comte, fontina and cheddar, at times creamy and others sharp. A slice of tomato is pretty to look at but doesn't do much else for the sandwich. The chunky bowl of chilled gazpacho, more a salsa than soup is simultaneously cooling but spiked with spice and herbs, and made the perfect companion for the comforting cheese sandwich.
Since it was too early in the day for a decadent meal of cheese and wine, we ordered yet another sandwich cheekily called the "Pig's Ass" sandwich for the presence of pork butt (another name for shoulder). This updated cubano is another lovely little crunchy lunch, packed with juicy shredded pork, cheddar, sweet and sour pickle slices and just enough olives to pack a salty punch. A little crispy on the outside perhaps, but the crunchy toast did take well to the spicy chipotle aioli that added even more flavor to the sandwich.
Eating is truely hard work and we lounged around after our sandwich handling, sipping coffee from the attractive cups and admiring the airy and inviting decor. I love the antique-ish cabinet, the rugged pine bar and even the often-times cliched barnyard chic exposed brick wall. Casellula is perfect for lingering in the afternoon, and probably only even better at night, when it becomes legitimate to just have cheese and wine.

Casellula
401 W52nd St (Bet 9th & 10th Aves)

A chain of unfortunate dinners

Some people have commented that I've been having too great a time eating all these excellent meals. Contrary to popular perception, I do not have the Midas touch to choosing restaurants that have good food, good pricing and great service. In fact, just two weekends ago, I was cursed with meal after meal of mediocrity.
Saturday night at Congee Bowery: Granted this is Chinatown and I wasn't expecting good service. And yes, we did flout the laws of seating, making them seat us when there were but only 7 out of 9 people that showed up. We know table turning is essential in order to make money in Chinatown, but for the servers and managers to view our table with barely veiled contempt and to wrestle menus away from our hands? I've truly never been so ill-treated in Chinatown and I wonder why the lines were so long for such ordinary food. So the food was standard Cantonese with some better the the rest. The casseroles were hefty and comforting, but the frogs legs were devoid of meat while the shrimp, fresh and well fried was left swimming in too much mayo. It is 10-20% cheaper than say Ping's and Oriental Garden but for the level of emotional trauma inflicted, I'm better off at the other places.
Sunday at the Modern Bar Room: Here, our experience was disappointing, as the hum-drum food was exacerbated by lackluster and amateurish service, odd in a Danny Meyer's establishment.
The concept was good, appetizer sized items with no clear entree and appetizer distinction that allows for a casual shared dinner. But when I asked for the server to split our plates, he said no, there's no such policy. What he didn't notice was that other diners all had their food in the middle of their tables, with individual serving plates to share family style.
Ruoying and I ordered 2 savories each, for her the mushroom soup and a duck breast dish, and for me the cracker-like and pretty fun to eat tart flambee and a tiny roasted quail. Ying's soup was too salty and we waved the server down to tell him so. Usually the soup should be whisked away and a new appetizer offered. Our server was clearly flustered and said he would check with the kitchen, leaving us stranded with the 90% filled bowl of soup cooling rapidly. He then served other tables, trying to avoid us until about 10-15 minutes later, when finally he came back with the menu, apologies and the chance to order another app. The scallops that followed were nicely seared with a refreshing citrus base, but the experience was already marred. Then out of good intentions the server said he will slow down the pace of service for the main courses in order to let ying enjoy her scallops. Clearly the busboys serving the main courses didn't get that message because 2 mins before the scallops arrived, the main courses showed up. So ruoying was juggling with 2 dishes at once. Fun. and all the server said was "so the main courses turned up" sheepishly, no apologies extended. The duck and quail were actually well prepared and the duck with mustard sauce a great pairing. But whatever. Back to the server. He disappeared after main courses were served, to be replaced with a more professional server who patiently offered dessert suggestions. We opted for a really hefty serving of beignets with maple ice cream, caramel and a sourish mango preserve. The maple ice cream was wonderful, fragrant and sweet, the icy coolness contrasting beautifully with the fresh hot fried dough.
We were pleasantly surprised in the end with the bill, because the restaurant tried to remedy our subpar experience by comping not only the scallops but also the dessert. Still, the let-down from the service and forgettable meal was great enough that I probably will not return, even though sometimes thinking back, I should give it the benefit of a doubt, that Sunday's probably not the best day to eat out.
Monday dinner at Shilla: I've been there numerous times and have always enjoyed the bbq. This time round we opted for the cooked dishes. The seafood pancake was fantastic, crispy at the edges and filled with seafood and spring onions, but the bibimbop was unforgivably bland. What would normally be an average meal ended up in my list of jinxed meal because shortly after we left the restaurant, both of us were struck by a sudden bout of food poisoning. So at Shilla, stick to the bbq.
Luckily such strike-outs don't happen too often, or else I'll be eating in a lot more.

Bukhara Grill

The last week was John's final week at work, and I will miss John, not just for the camaraderie, the division of labor and the shared jokes and meals, but also for an arsenal of Indian food knowledge. I was a chicken tikka masala girl, didn't like raita and had no clue which paneer was. John changed that. Most of all, he introduced me to mithai. Mithai, where were you all these years?!
You know how much people like him by how long his farewell celebrations went. Besides the perfunctory round of drinks and a lunch treat by our boss the day after John's last day at work, a bunch of close friends even met for dinner the week before. The place we chose? Bukhara Grill, for its close proximity to work, large, safe North Indian menu and some nostalgia, for we had often ordered from there by way of Seamless Web.
As people settled in the long banquette with their Taj Mahal beers and mango lassis, we started with crisp papadums and some chaat, or what I described to first timers as "deconstructed potato salad". The potatos and chickpeas added heft, the crackers crunch, the yogurt cool tartness and the green mint and red (tamarind?) chutneys lifted the dense dish with sweet, hot and aromatic flavors. Samosas were also decent but not as fun as chaat, at least for me.
The entrees consisted of vegetarian and meat dishes. Instead of chicken tikka masala, John selected chicken makhani, a tomato-based chicken curry that John calls butter chicken. Dieters beware, because the sauce is indeed super creamy and great with the copious amounts of freshly baked carb-filled naan at our disposal. The other meat dish was either lamb or goat. I can't remember, I was too busy eating the tender meat laced with a complex sauce. Besides the meat dishes, we had also a chickpea side, and some favorite vegetable dishes. Saag paneer is spinach and Indian cheese cooked with a lot of different spices, where the heat from ginger and cumin really lingers and warms you long after you've swallowed the entire dish. And my ultimate favorite - gobi taka tin, the flourescent red and oily cauliflower stirfry. Indians sure know how to cook cauliflower, from Gobi Taka Tin at Bukhara to the Manchurian Cauliflower at Chinese Mirch. Most of the time, cauliflower is undercooked or so resolutely overcooked that it turns into a mash. Here, the diced cauliflower is cooked through but retains its shape, and the bell peppers and some tomato puree adds contrast to this spicy yet comforting dish.
That night we ate, we talked, we enjoyed John's company and his running annotation of dishes we ordered. I committed to memory as best as I could and am noting it all down here, so that next time I fancy some Indian food, I won't have to call John at Penn come dinner time.

Bukhara Grill
217 E 49th St (2nd & 3rd Ave)

Maroons

I packed a lot of eating on a recent trip to Atlanta, from fluffy biscuits to lip smacking ribs, but had neglected to eat fried chicken. A craving for crispy battered chicken did not go away even after I returned to New York but intensified, so in attempt to eat the one dish that got away, AI did some research, assembled my roommates and some friends, including friends visiting from Singapore and ended up at Maroons.

The restaurant, really an assembly of 3 long, narrow rooms tucked on a side street of Chelsea serves not only Southern classics, but also an equal number of Carribbean dishes. We split appetizers, all from the Southern side of the menu, a plate of golf ball sized hush puppies drenched in an unorthodox sweet, buttery sauce and some bbq ribs that I found on the dry side, but others thought fine.

Entrees were next and of course I had to have the chicken. And was I not disappointed. 2 huge pieces of chicken, really more like half a chicken was fried till golden crisp, glistening with oil but non-greasy. Hot savory juice squirts out as I tore the pieces up with my fingers, the only way to eat fried chicken and the meat was really tender and flavorful. Even the breast, usually the victim of over-frying and drying up was moist, registering a slight pinkish tone. I gladly ate all my stomach to take and happily forced the rest of the group to try a superior piece of fried chicken. Collard greens and mac & cheese provided the needed vegetable nutrients and carbs, along probably too much cheese and butter, but they too were good, the mac & cheese being a little too dry however. Gerrie's grits, which she paired with a portion of aromatic and ultra-spicy jerk chicken was even better in terms of its creamy texture and cheesy taste. Others ha bbqed chicken, shrimp and a whole fried fish, but I like think my chicken was the champion of the entrees, for no one elicited as much pleasure as I did plunging into their food that night. Perhaps they were all too healthy =)

We lingered over dessert, dessert being one single slice of red velvet cake for the seven of us and were jokingly chastised by the server for our tiny appetites. But along with a large slice of cake that was stained a deep ruby, he also brought along seven forks, so we knew he wasn't being slip. Unfortunately, while the cake was moist and had a dense mouth-feel I associate with red velvet cake, the cream cheese frosting tasted artificial and the cake seemed like it had taken a quick defrost trip in the microwave. A disappointment, because it was my favorite type of cake afterall.
We finally left the restaurant more than a good 2 hours after we were seated, happy to linger with good company in the cramped space. With all that amber walls and exposed brick, its hard not to make the place look warm and inviting. The restaurant had a constant energetic buzz about it the entire night but never a din, and the clientele was eclectic, alternating between African American families to a large frat-boy reunion, couples on a casual date and us, the table full of Asian too full to have one dessert each. The food was excellent and much more expensive than ordering at a roadside chicken shack (which you can't find in new york city anyway) and KFC, but not egregiously so for New York standards and with the Southern hospitality and the chill Carribbean pace (read slow) I would gladly go back whenever I find myself needing fried chicken.


Maroons
244 W 16th St (Bet 7th & 8th Aves)
http://maroonsnyc.com/

Ratatouille

So calling Ratatouille the greatest cartoon ever made might be a stretch, but I was thoroughly charmed by the simple but smart story about a rat with haute aspirations making good on his dreams. Pixar once again does a fantastic job with the animation with each twitch of Remy's rat whiskers. The hordes of rats plundering the kitchen larder was appropriately nauseating while the food shots looked worthy for a 5 star restaurant. A little bit of intrigue, a dash of action, some romance and a smattering of professional kitchen vocabulary makes this a fun family movie and will leave you hungry for some food afterwards. Indeed, by the time we rolled out of the movie theater sometime past midnight, we were famished for some french food. Which lucky for us in New York, is not that difficult to find, not even at midnight =)

Kwik-E-Mart comes to life!

Fans of the Simpsons will be happy to know that not only is the full length feature a scant 3 weeks away, they can now also live out life in Springfield by way of its convenience store. Indeed, in a brilliant product tie-in move, several 7-Elevens in the country have been converted to Kwik-E-Marts, Springfield's leading convenience store, complete with boxed cereal endorsed by Krusty the Clown and Buzz Cola. Unfortunately for some, Duff Beer is not available.

Below are pictures from my maiden trip to the Kwik-E-Mart in NYC on 42rd St, right across Port Authority Station:

The only Kwik-E-Mart in the metropolitan area, this one suffers from not having the vast, empty parking lot emblematic of suburban Springfield.

Buzz Cola, looking to provide more caffeine than other colas

Ooh.. Krusty O's - The best you can expect from a TV clown. Like cheerios, only better... I couldn't resist and bought a box...

Donuts... How could you not have donuts? D'oh!!!

Apu says goodbye and thanks you for loitering... This is one of the only twelve 7-Elevens in the world to have received such life-altering transformation =)

For more information about the movie and other Kwik-E-Marts near you, visit:
http://www.simpsonsmovie.com/main.html

Barney Greengrass

I had visitors from Singapore again this weekend, and before a trip to the Met thought it would be good to fuel up somewhere nearby. Barney Greengrass - a 99 year old upper west side Jewish foodstore/ restaurant complete with tiny formica tables and 1950-ish shiny plastic and chrome chairs - isn't exactly on the same side of the park as the museum, but I figured, a short walk wouldn't kill anyone, not especially after a nice, fishy breakfast.

Jeanette had lamented on the dismal state of Singapore bagels and while Barney Greengrass is more famous for smoked fish, the bagels we had were dense, chewy, poofy, not too big. Overall a pretty decent bagel.
As good as the bagels may me, it unfortunately plays second fiddle at Barney Greengrass. For the main reason people frequent this old store is not for the bagels nor the excellent baked goods, but for the fish. I clearly wasn't the only one with fish on my mind, as the main sitting room was already filled at 10.30am with early risers including my coworker Alan, his fiancee and friends, and my party had to be sitted on the more makeshift are right across the refrigerated displays. This proved to be a great seat as we stared at all the unfamiliar types of fish like sable and salmon pastrami, imagining their tastes, and watched the deli-men perform their mean slicing skills, shaving thick slabs of lox into thin layers fit for a cream cheese, lox and bagel trifecta. The lovely couple I breakfasted with both chose plates of nova scotia salmon scrambled with eggs and onions. The creamy eggs binded well with the thick chunks of flavorful cured salmon, while the soft and slow cooked onion provided a sweet counterpoint. I selected a fried egg sandwich stuffed with a generous serving of sturgeon, for which Barney Greengrass unabashedly calls itself a king of. The delicate fish was moist and flaky and the eggs was just as I liked it, crispy on the eggs but juice-filled as I bit into my towering sesame-seed flecked sandwich.

We, or rather I ended my meal buying a bag of black-and-white cookies that are as New York as bagels are and was not disappointed. The cookies are ubiquitous in New York delis, but are often stale, dry disks of cake dough topped with oily glaze. The mini cookies I bought were moist and tasted slightly lemony, while the duo of chocolate and vanilla glaze were sweet but not cloyingly so. Yummy.

For New Yorkers, Barney Greengrass is a great place to enjoy local favorites in an efficient, friendly and no-nonsense setting and for visitors, a charmingly old-school dining experience that is definitely not cookie-cutter!

Barney Greengrass

541 Amsterdam Avenue (86th St)

http://www.barneygreengrass.com/welcome.php

Kyotofu

When Kyotofu, an ultra-slick Japanese influenced dessert-only bar opened last fall, I was more than a little skeptical whether it would succeed. As gentrified as Hell's Kitchen is turning, it is not trendy like the village or anywhere else below 14th St. I visited it in its early months, liking the concept but a little turned off by the steep pricing that priced a slice of tofu cheesecake at more than 10 dollars.

Lately though, I've been frequently Kyotofu a lot more. Pricing during the evening hours have been adjusted just slightly below the $10 psychological barrier and Kyotofu also started opening during afternoons. And weekend afternoons is when I find it most convenient to saunter into the bar, a scant 3 blocks away for something sweet. Most of the time, I go for the miso-choco brownie, a , round nugget of intense chocolate flavor accentuated with a sprinkling of sesame seeds. Miso is an ingredient although I've never really experienced the savory taste in all the half dozen cakes I've consumed so far. In the afternoons, the restaurant also serve a chocolate souffle cupcake that is moister than Magnolia's will ever be alongside some fruit compote. With some luck, the bright white cocoon-like room will be empty, and your afternoon will be serene and sweet.

The energy level in the dining room increases significantly as day turns to night. At best, there is a quiet buzz as couples and groups of girlfriends share their desserts and drinks. At its worst, the tiny room with its amplifying acoustics can sound like a zoo. However, look past it all and you'll enjoy the intricate and expensive desserts. The 3 course dessert prefixe is a misnomer as the entree usually consists of 3 mini desserts, which makes it a 5 course prefixe. At $15, portions are pretty tiny, but still big enough for 2 not very hungry girls to finish with some difficulty. The tofu pudding with black sugar sauce is wonderfully smooth and extremely pure and nutty tasting. The miso-choco cake appears in the prefix, together with a miniature slice of tofu cheesecake, often flavored with aromatic sansho pepper but on one occasion laced with sake. Unlike regular cheesecake, the tofu version is less dense, making it easier to finish without feeling sick. A cool and creamy vanilla cream and walnut parfait that rounds up the trio in the entree is equally tasty. The 3 course meal ends with some green tea cookies whose soft and crumbly texture I unfortunately do not appreciate. For people who enjoy beautifully plated Japanese desserts, a few ala carte items lean towards the more traditional bent, like a very subtle red bean jelly served with unfortunately undercooked tapioca pearls in calpico milk, as well as anmitsu, a traditional Japanese jelly based dessert served with strawberries and dorayaki, a baked Japanese pancake.

Having eaten through more than half of the sweets menu, while I can't say that I love everything, there isnt a dish that I vehemently oppose to as well. Regrettably, my favorite dish, a rich rice pudding sitting in a puddle of the best, most concentrated soy milk I've tasted is currently off the menu.

Kyotofu is a place for dessert lovers, more specifically dainty eaters. But even for people who like hefty slices of pies and cream topped cakes, come try it and you may find that tofu cheesecake is right up your alley too.

Kyotofu

705 9th Ave (48th & 49th St)

Tulcingo del Valle

Al fresco dining. I don't get it. Why would people forsake air conditioned comfort to sit out in the steamy heat, waving flies while they eat? But this past Friday was actually not a bad day to be sitting out. It was bright at 7pm, and not too humid. The playground on 10th and 46th that Yanru and I had dinner in was crowded with happy people, children from the neighborhood running around energetically, suits taking a breather from yet another work week, mothers trading stories. Just sitting there made me feel as though peace and goodwill just osmosized into my cynical little heart.
Unlike 9th ave, 10th avenue is still relatively undeveloped. Rents are probably also lower, which explains the continued survivorship of Tulcingo del Valle, a bare-bones Mexican grocery store cum deli that sells authentic, flavor-packed and extremely inexpensive food. By inexpensive I mean $2.50 tacos and $5 sandwiches that's good for 2 meals. While they have seats for dine-in customers, both in the grocery store and the "high class" next door annex complete with table settings and tablecloth, we opted for take out. But anything that needs to be eaten piping hot with real cutlery, like the piquant chicken in mole sauce or the deep green pumpkin sauce, or the various stews on the menu should be eaten in. For people who are not squeamish about stranger cuts of meat, I highly recommend the beef tongue sandwich. I enjoy the soft chewiness of the meat, the slight fattiness which is cut by spicy jalapenos. Besides meat and peppers, the monster is jammed with lettuce, tomatos, creamy avocados and as if that was not filling enough, a thick refried bean paste slathered on the bread. It is juicy, messy and perfect playground food. Yanru picked up a beef taco that she enjoyed immensely when she was not trying not to drop bits of meat and cheese on the table, and we washed all that down with a thirst quenching cantaloupe juice. We chatted, ate with gusto and enjoyed the twilight as day turns into night. You may not catch me sitting outside a restaurant when there are ample seats inside, but a playground with a torta in hand? I might just do that again.

Tulcingo del Valle
665 10th Ave (46th & 47th Sts)

Menchanko Tei

Give me winter over summer anytime. At least, indulgence in rich and buttery food are condoned and flabby arms are hidden from sight by clever jackets and coats. The streets look cleaner, the subway smells less rank and my electricity bill is much lower. But one thing summer has over winter, aside from plenty of lush stone fruits and the joys of ice cold beer and watermelon slices is the comeback of seasonal cold noodles. It could be soba slick with a soy and wasabi concoction, or fabulously thin and elastic korean naeng myun nested in a ice-cold beef broth.
My favorite cold Asian noodle however is a Japanese dish called Hiyashi Chuka. And of all the ramen-yas in Midtown, I favor Menchanko Tei's version the most as the flavors are clean and fresh and the presentation aesthetically pleasing. A big heap of thin egg noodles hides under a profusion of toppings that include cucumber, lettuce, marinated shitake mushrooms, chicken, a thin egg omelet, seaweed and scarily red pickeld ginger. All toppings were sliced almost as finely as the noodles are thin. A dollop of mustard also helps clear sinuses and gives the sweet and sour soy-based broth a bracing lift. The mustard's heat and the vinegar's tartness stimulates dormant summer appetites and before you know it, you'd have eaten the entire bowl of noodles. It doesnt look like much but you've got the equivalent of half a pack of dried pasta by the time you roll out of the restaurant. Be warned though, that I've observed a negative side effect after eating this dish. The noodles do such a great job of waking my tastebuds that instead of feeling full, I leave in search of even more food, especially dessert. Oh man, will I stop eating already! But I don't have to look far, since Japanese icecream or pudding are on sale at Menchanko too!

Menchanko Tei
131 E45th St (Between Lex & 3rd Aves)
43-45 W55th St (Bet 5th & 6th Aves)

Mesa Grill

My sis and I are avid watchers of Food Network shows. She is particularly tickled by this show called Throwdown with Bobby Flay, where Flay, a big name chef in the New York food scene basically travels around the country challenging amateur/professional cooks on their specialties, and loses, most of the time, spectacularly. Intrigued by his celebrity and skeptical about his cooking skills we like other celebrity chef collectors decided to vist Mesa Grill to taste his brand of Southwest American cuisine.
The restaurant was large, airy, with brightly colored walls to evoke the Southwestern style. The burgundy banquette with printed cowboys provided the kitsch factor. The food in general was good. In fact, the bread basket, filled with a variety of sweet and savory baked goods and redundant chili relish was rather tasty. I couldn't get enough of the mini jalapeno puffs, glistening with butter as I pulled them apart. Ruoying on the other hand found the raisin scones just as buttery and irresistible. Cornbread and a pecan/cranberry bread rounded up the sinful quartet.
The entrees were spicy, thanks to the liberal addition of jalapenos. A pair of poached eggs on sweet potato and chicken hash was a riff on classic eggs benedict. The hash, studded with jalapenos was sweet, salty, and spicy at the same time, but a little deficient on the chicken. I preferred Ruoying's omelette to my hash however. I found out that goat cheese tastes really good with eggs, and also neutralizes the piquantness of fresh sliced peppers. Two hefty slices of ham accompanied the eggs, glazed with a sweet apricot sauce and tasted like jerky. Biscuits that were meltingly buttery and fluffy completed the plate. The portions were generous to the point of huge, with my mounds of sweet potato hash seemingly self-regenerative. No matter how hard I worked at it, it remained largely intact.
As we left the restaurant, we spotted some cookbooks, signed by Mr Flay on display for sale next to the hostess stand. I am sure, many of our fellow diners like us are drawn to Mesa Grill by the celebrity factor. There's not quite as much drama at the restaurant as compared to Throwdown, but at Mesa Grill, at least you are assured that the food is tasty.

Mesa Grill
102 5th Avenue
www.mesagrill.com

Forte Baden Baden

Thanks to a couple of influential reviews, KFC now stands for Korean Fried Chicken in the city. New York Times featured the dish in a recent review, calling the chicken
moist with "crackling crisp skin". While Paul was in town, Gerrie and I visited Forte Baden Baden, a pub in Ktown and purveyor of the said dish to test these claims.
The golden bird, first roasted to seal in the juices and then deep fried came in a huge platter for $19.95, looking extremely delectable. It was accompanied by thick fries and a bowl of sweet and munchable pickled radish. A pair of squirt bottles housed ketchup and chilli sauce for people looking for more flavor. We bit into the chicken, waiting to
crown the Koreans masters of the deep fat fryer. The meat was juicy while the batter free skin was paper crisp. But there was no revelatory moment. In fact, we three had been eating chicken fried in this or in a very similar way all our lives. Any decent Cantonese restaurant would feature this dish, sometimes with garlic, sometimes without. Congee Village down in Chinatown does it well, as do Ping's with its mini quail version.
Aside from the mild disappointment experienced from eating something familiar (we had expected somewhat unrealistically in hindsight, that Korean chicken would have a more bombastic taste), we enjoyed ourselves immensely in the darkened room eating, besides the chicken a fiery dish of stir-fried octopus and vegetables, crimson from chili paste resting atop a bed of udon. In the darkened room fashioned like any other pub in the city, we washed the gut-sticking food down with beer, giggled at the servers' faux military garb and ate heartily. While the chicken at Baden Baden does not displace chicken at KFC in our mental ranking of best chicken tasted (there is something disturbingly comforting at eating commercially fried chicken from a tub), we enjoyed the alternative pub experience at Baden Baden and will recommend it to anyone looking for something more substantial than fries and onion rings to go with their beer.


Restaurant Forte Baden Baden
28 West 32nd St (5th and 6th Aves)
(212) 714-2266

B&G Oysters

Being a solo traveller often means dining alone. And while I'm fine doing that at lunchtime, dinner is another matter. For one, its quite acceptable to be eating alone at noon. Afterall, no one makes plans for lunch. But dinner, well. To put it bluntly, unless you're eating at the hotel dining room, you'll probably stick out like a sore thumb, a single diner in the midst of canoodling couples in popular restaurants in every city. I get stressed out eating alone and given the choice, would rather stay at home for a homecooked meal.

Unfortunately, I was on my own at a conference this week in Boston, and was not going to settle for inedible room service. An inquiry with the concierge led to my walk across the Back Bay area on a deliciously warm evening to B&G oysters, a seafood restaurant/bar built for solo diners. The open kitchen and surrounding marble bar dominates the long and narrow room and the bar seats offer a good view of the happenings in the cooking area, the calculated shucking of the oysters, the opening of wine bottles, the feverish pace which the chef kept, prepping 5 dishes at once. My server was helpful and knowledgeable but never overbearing and steered me into a few oysters from about a dozen other choices to start. She picked her favorites from the local region (no west coast oysters that day) and the Island Creek oysters from Massachusetts did not disappoint, pristine and plump, sweet and slippery. The only one I didn't enjoy as much is the better known blue point oyster, which was a little chewy. I judiciously stopped at 3, but looked enviously on at another diner three seats away who ordered a dozen for himself, just for starters, before proceeding to order a "real" appetizer and a main course.

I selected the spicy clam stew from a dozen or so entrees as my main course and watched while the chef prepared my meal. In a few frenzied motions, no spare movements wasted, he sauteed the onions, tomato and garlic rapidly, fried the chorizo, added the clams, poured in the broth and served the stew in the instant the clams opened up. The littleneck clams were chewy and amazingly sweet, pairing up well with spicy chorizo, pungent scallions and crunchy crostini that I dunked repeatedly into the stew. As I ate I could just imagine how wonderful the clams would have tasted, raw and dressed with a spritz of lemon. Unfortunately, the clam dish is too popular and the restaurant seldom has extra that they can sell on the half-shell, but they would be happy to do so if available. An ice cold beer to wash everything down followed and I spent a few happy minutes chatting with my server, discussing her favorite dishes and observing the crowd in the room. While pairs and trios made up most of the clientele, there were others like me, eating contentedly, happy to be alone.

B&G Oysters

550 Tremont St, Boston MA 02118

JoJo

Ruoying was in New York again, this time in transit for a few days before she starts her internship in Atlanta. To celebrate the end of another school year for her, a nice dinner was in the order. Ruoying loves beautiful interior design, atmospheric spaces (she goes to disneyland to bask in corporate happiness) and is our family's final arbiter of all things stylish. And after struggling between the "tres paris" brasserie Balthazar and the jewelbox JoJo, I went for the latter.
The food at JoJo is very enjoyable, and similar to what Ruoying and I had at Nougatine, another Jean Georges Vongerichten's restaurant. Ruoying's duck entree married two concepts Jean Georges is particularly known for, light modern french cooking with an Asian accent. Her dish paired gamey tasting, perfectly medium rare slices of duck breast with a spring roll of duck, golden brown and redolent of chinese five spice and shitake mushroom. Given the chef's french roots, certain dishes had a decidedly french flair. The fries for one were fresh, crispy and well salted. My roasted chicken with its crispy skin and wonderfully moist meat sat in a gentle ginger broth, but was more Provencal than Asian with the addition of green olives and preserved lemon rind. The chickpea fries (tastes like hummus, shaped like french toast strips and textured like fried polenta) indicated an homage to the Mediterranean, was a tasty side but a little dense. Jean Georges has been credited with the creation and popularization of the now ubiquitous molten chocolate cake. Paired with a scoop of vanilla bean icecream, this is one most mundane dessert. However, JoJo's version is swoon worthy, a small concentrated disk of high quality chocolate, with the velvet softness of the cake in contrast with the warm ooze of molten chocolate playing at the tip of one's tongue.

After hearing all about the intimate boudoir-ish decor and superior atmosphere, we were a little let down to find JoJo's interior, with its mini chandeliers, deep velvet banquettes and heavy brocade drapings a little too precious, a little too dated. A great date place for couples it with have been, with flattering dim lighting and a mostly soothing atmosphere, if not for the cramped seating and awkward positioning of all the two tops in the restaurant. I tried and did not find a table for two that offered enough privacy for a romantic tete-a-tete. I had requested for a table for two on the charming and slightly brighter upstairs dining room, but was given a makeshift table (possibly a picnic table moved upstairs just to accomodate by request) placed along the staircase, with Ruoying knocking on the potted plants behind her everytime she moved her seat. We quickly requested a change of tables and were then seated on the banquette downstairs. They were comfortable if not still very cramp and served our purposes, but the placing is set so strangely that we were not seated across each other but next to each other in a right angle. I ended up staring at the diner on the next table everytime I lifted my head from the dishes. Fine by me, but I bet he was hoping to be looking at his wife instead of an stranger for a good 2 hours.

The seating arrangements however made it easy for us to conduct a conversation with the couple next to us, and the lady who was celebrating her birthday with her husband sidled next to us, to say somewhat conspiratorially that we were the two youngest tables in the room. We concurred despite the fact that she must have been at least 10 years older than the both of us, because the rest of the diners were slightly older, and we spotted a table of sprightly octagenarians celebrating their friendship in a table nearby. But in no way did I feel mistreated for being too young, and for the price, which is very reasonable (entrees ~ $20-30) for new york standards and on par with hipper downtown joints, the food was certainly a notch better.

Will I be back? Probably for the cake, and certainly before I turn 65.

JoJo

160 E64th St (Park & Lexington Ave)

(212) 223-5656

Union Square Cafe

Last Sunday Dawn and I dined at Union Square Cafe to investigate the reasons why it is one of the toughest reservation to score in a city filled with tough reservations, and how it has managed to stay atop the Zagat's most popular list for over a decade in a city where a new restaurant is born every 2 hours.
The place: For a place that charged so much, I was certainly expecting a much plusher setting instead of the slightly dated room with sloping floors and a tiny bathroom located too close to the main dining area. But as I settled into our table on the narrow alcove overhanging the main room, laughing heartily at times, sharing food casually with Dawn and peering voyeuristically at the food diners downstairs were eating, I realized that in a room that makes everyday food unique and ordinary events special, there was no room for opulent furnishings and chandeliers.
The savory: A pioneer of the New American bistro since its beginnings in 1985, Union Square Cafe has spawned many copycats. I guess I am spoiled and have been enjoying my fair share of seasonal cuisine and local produce, so while the food was fair, we were not particularly thrilled by the appetizer and entrees. The batter for the frito misto we shared as an appetizer was light and the seafood fresh. My osso buco was tender and the bone marrow a rich spread for good bread but too heavy for me that I brought most of it home. Dawn's duck was tasty, but a little tough and over-salted. Unlike the duo of duck she enjoyed at Cafe Boulud, where she was still waxing lyrical over, its unlikely that she'll remember this duck by next week.
The sweet: Easily the star of the night was the perennial favorite warm banana tart with macadamia brittle and vanilla ice-cream. The alchemy the pastry chef performed on the warm banana encased in the light, barely-there pastry shell, sweet and uncloying vanilla icecream and slightly salted caramel macadamia nuts was pure magic. It was so insanely good that I almost swooned upon my first bite. This humble looking tart is easily the best dessert I've ever had. Our second dish, a baked alaskan with chocolate icecream and served with fresh and candied orange and kumquat slices was unfortunately overshadowed by the extraordinary tart and played second fiddle. Without the tart however, it would have also been a successful dish.
The service: A little slow throughout the whole meal and our server seemed to be very busy with many tables at once. But, Danny Meyer is famous for his dedication towards great service and likewise our server was professional yet friendly and helpful at the same time. I had when making the reservations mentioned that we were celebrating Dawn's college graduation and our server came up to us before the meal to congratulate her. It was such a joy watching Dawn's surprised reaction. As for the icing on the cake, one of our dessert, the baked alaskan was comped, courtesy of the restaurant in commemoration of the happy occasion. It is no wonder the Union Square Cafe is the restaurant people choose to celebrate their special days.
The verdict: The banana tart is enough to bring me back over and over again, but the polished yet personable service makes this a true gem.

Union Square Cafe
21 East 16th St (bet Union Square West and 5th Ave)
http://www.unionsquarecafe.com/

Starstruck at Singapore Day

Sunshine days, tropical heat and snaking lines of hungry eaters. The ingredients that made Singapore Singapore were all present in Central Park on Saturday. In a bid to stir up some patriotism and elicit goodwill amongst the overseas Singaporeans, the government decided to stage an I LOVE SINGAPORE event, with Kit Chan belting out "Home", the requisite VIP GOH speech (the DPM was there. you need to be Singaporean to understand the acronyms) and the stars of the show, hawker/street food.
The lines were a little overwhelming at first, but worked more efficiently that the "line that morphs into a triangle that morphs into a bunched up mess" queue system that happens when one tries to get onto an SBS bus or an MRT train. The food was also very good, since the government managed to pay the best hawkers to close shop for a week and fly halfway across the world with their barang barang, and cook for the priviledged few in NYC and nearby cities for free. The servings weren't generous (they had to feed thousands afterall) but the quality was uniformly good, if not even better than in Singapore. When was the last time you ever got chunks of beef in your prata curry? Dawn, my excitable young cousin happily chomped away on kiliney kaya toast, prata, char kuey teow, chili crab and downed a bowl of peppery bak kut teh in the simmering heat. Pictures of local specialties follow...

Yeo's should make Gerrie and I their new spokespeople... seriously... Walter poses happily

Prata on the griddle. A mundane sight in Singapore, but so exotic in New York


Mr Char Kway Teow showing off his stirfry skills on the oversized wok. Unfortunately Uncle is very law by law.. Flirting did not yield bigger portions

I had much more fun than I initially anticipated, and was hardly guilt-ridden about not studying for my exam on this gorgeous day. The pleasure intensified when I met Calvin Trillin, my favorite food writer and talked to him for a good 5 minutes. Mr Trillin was quietly minding his own business and snooping around the tented areas perhaps seeking respite from the heat when Walt helped me accost him and I just descended on him like a starstruck groupie. And now I know which type of fan I am, not the dumbfounded type but the crazily chatty type that would not let her idol get a word into the conversation. I was trying to impress him with my knowledge of Singapore restaurants in the city but drew a blank, being so excited to see him. After I finally blurted out the location of one of my favorite places, he looked genuinely disappointed and said "i know exactly where you're talking about. But isn't it Malaysian?" and left. Oh god... my one chance in promoting my fair island's cuisine to a man with great appetite and discerning tastes, and all I could do was to tell him to go to a Malaysian restaurant!!! Thankfully he will be eating in Singapore very soon under the watchful guidance of KF Seetoh and hopefully that may redeem our reputation as the street food capital of the world!

Singapore (Malaysian) restaurants in the city to feed that occasional craving:

Sanur (18 Doyers St, only place in Manhattan with Nonya Kueh)
Nonya (194 Grand St)
New Malaysia (Chinatown Arcade, Bet Canal & Elizabeth Sts, the one I told Mr. Trillin about)
Jaya (90 Baxter St, Bet White & Canal Sts)

Chiyono

This cozy Japanese restaurant feels like an extension of someone's home. And eating there with a couple of people whose company you enjoy is as comfortable as eating at home, but tastier and with better plateware.

Between the 4 of us, we had a miso-marinated eggplant cold dish, a Japanese omelette simmered in dashi stock and pork dumplings for appetizers. All were passable but too expensive. Better value was found on the entree side of the menu, where we shared slices of grilled miso-cod (flaky, fresh, a tad salty); 2 egg shaped croquettes; a big bowl of buta kakuni (fatty pork simmering in a sweet soy sauce, not meltingly soft but not bad) and very juicy and delicious fried oysters that was surprisingly brimming with hot liquid as we bit into them.

Dessert was intricatedly presented, three distinct items on a single long platter. Like the savory items before it, the flavors are traditional and unadulaterated. We enjoyed the glutinous rice cakes with matcha powder and the red beans with vanilla ice cream, but really loved the white sesame pudding, a wobbly study of milky sweetness perfumed but not overpowered by the nuttiness of sesame. And at $7, the dish was a downright bargain.
Chiyono delivers unsophisticated but comforting home-style dishes and does not cater to the mass of exotic sushi rollers lovers in the city. Indeed you will not find degustatory revelations amongst platters of fried foods and simply grilled fish, and in truth the food's not at all impressive, but the ingredients are fresh and the food presented with such care that you can't help but thank the good proprietress for her efforts for preparing a homecooked meal. A comfortable room (dominated by a communal table, not an ice buddha), a few good friends, a friendly but slow server and an earnest Japanese mama taking care of your daily nourishment, I'm glad not every Japanese restaurant in town is a Nobu.

Chiyono
328 E6th St (Bet 1st & 2nd Ave)

Del Posto Enoteca

I went to dinner at Del Posto last night, but instead of shelling out hundreds, I had a very tasty and affordable meal at its casual dining corner, the Enoteca. For $45, one can partake in 5 courses spanning the entire spectrum of the menu, from antipasti down to the dolci. And with about a half dozen choices per course, you're getting none of that Restaurant Week crap of getting to choose between only dry chicken breast or salmon.

Dinner starts with a basket of about 5-6 different house-made breads, served with a pat of sweet butter and another pat of lardo, unadulterated pork lard perfumed with rosemary, utterly spreadable but a little too rich for me. Germaine and her friend Charmaine selected the luxurious beef carpaccio, simply dressed with oil, pepper, salt and melted mozzarella while I had a luscious grilled octopus. We then had 2 perfectly al-dente pastas, the famous bucatini alla Amatriciana, a thick spaghetti with a small hole running through the strand, slick with a spicy, intense tomato sauce. The other pasta was little ears of orcchiette in a peppery chard base. Both featured the smoky goodness of pancetta and a lot of heat. And as if we needed more pig, Germaine and I picked the roasted pork loin as our secondi, served just a little pink with a sweet applesauce to cut through the fat. The cod that Charmaine got was perfectly cooked, but overall the very big plates of entrees paled in comparison to the pastas.

The desserts were generally good, ranging from the very rich chocolate pudding to the tart and refreshing passionfruit sorbet in my 4-sorbet plate, but we were so full that they did not taste quite as impressive as they sounded on paper. Another reason why the desserts lost some points was due to the fact that some of the desserts such as the chocolate cake and the tart could be found sitting on the table next to where we were seated. While I know intellectually that most restaurant desserts are pre-made, its something else to actually watch the panettone dry out in front of you.

The corner of the enoteca was elegant and cozy, a little too tight but perfect for couples and small groups. Unfortunately none of my pictures came out right due to the dimness of the room. Service was very gracious, and despite spending much less than the big rollers in the main room, we were not treated like second class citizens. My request to pack my entree home was taken without the slightest bit of disapproval and my pork loin met me at the coat check, where the server had thoughtfully left. For pork and pasta fiends alike, eating at Del Posto's Enoteca may be the best semi-fine dining deal in the city.

Del Posto

85 Tenth Ave (Bet 15th & 16th St)

212-497-8090

(The enoteca takes only same-day reservations, lines open at 10AM)

www.delposto.com