Posts from the ‘Brooklyn’ Category

Dec 17

Thomas Beisel

Nothing like a little post-Brokeback Austrian meal. The Rockies…The Alps…whatever. I, like most New Yorkers, probably don't eat much German or Austrian food. Mainly because it's few and far between (and yes, I know the two cuisines aren't the same). Here, German tends to be outerborough and kitschy while Austrian leans toward pricy and gilt.

After a BAM matinee it became a toss up between Thomas Beisel and Junior's. Since I've been to the latter countless times TB's seemed in need of trying. It was a good choice, as it was early evening and not terribly crowded. We got a two-seater that temporarily (it was soon filled by a young couple who appeared to be on a first or second date and the guy went on about his firsthand knowledge of Austrian beers and the girl, who appeared to be Russian, filled him in on all her bouts with mental illness and eating disorders. Just so you know, now when she wants cake, she eats it and it's ok) had an empty table next to it with more than six inches of space.

We both started with a hearty gruyere-topped onion soup because that's hard to resist when it's icy outside. With a large glass of Hefeweizen, that would've been a meal in itself, but I wanted to sample the entrees. I went classic and ordered pork cheeks with sauerkraut and dumplings, which was even better than I'd expected. I thought the knoedel would be airy and boring, but they were dense, chewy and carmelized, if that's possible. I suspect the main ingredient was potato. They weren't little and round, but large, thick, flat ovals. James ordered a nutty special of halibut with scallions and ginger. I would've steered clear of Asian touches, but he seemed to like it, even though the fish was oddly matched with potatoes and sweet-sour red cabbage.

For some reason the restaurant strikes me as an older person's haunt, as if the flavors are more suited to a middle aged palate. Strange assessment, I know. Maybe I'm equating Thomas Beisel's clientele with the typical BAM-goer, which isn't unreasonable.

Thomas Beisel * 25 Lafayette Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Dec 8

Taku

So, I've finally deduced that it takes me about six months to actually try a new restaurant. Well-intentioned or not, I never seem to get to all the places on my list, even when they're walking distance from my apartment. And in NYC, nobody cares about a restaurant after six months.

I recall good things being said about Taku when it opened this summer. I don't know if they've kept things up at the same caliber, but I was unexpectedly under whelmed. James flat out didn't like food, which surprised me since he's never extremely passionate about anything, let alone cuisine.

My sashimi trio included…um, I can't even say for sure because it wasn't explained well and I'm not a raw fish whiz, I think uni and two different white fleshed fish varieties, along with a couple different seaweed salad tufts. It was fresh and just toothsome enough to remind me that I should eat Japanese food more often.

James ordered the wings, which I was interested in too. The sambal coating and cucumber cream dip sounded like a fun riff on Buffalo wings. They were presented prettily on a long ceramic plate and wrapped with a thin leaf. Unfortunately, the meat wasn't fully cooked, once you bit off the saucy exterior, the flesh was raw. It's a good thing neither of us are panicky about avian flu, or more realistically salmonella. I guess we should've said something, but it didn't feel worth the bother. There was a weird dispiriting vibe in the room, despite the surface soothing tones and music. Nothing overt, but the service managed to feel spacey and clunky, like I didn't want to do anything to further interactions or conversations. So, we kept mum on the sashimi wings.

I enjoyed my Taku ramen, which was ideal for a pork fanatic like myself. The tonkatsu broth was laden with thin slices of Berkshire pork and a nice substantial piece of rasher style bacon. The weird thing is that I expected more flavor, the broth was oddly flat and even the tiniest bit bitter. I think my taste buds could be tainted by my almost daily bowl of cheap Yagura chicken udon. I'm sure the stuff is teeming with salt and msg, but it's insanely savory and addictive. Maybe it's dashi derived vs. pork bone broth? No expert in Japanese soups, I'd always imagined pork broth to be the stronger flavored of the two.

James envied my ramen and loathed his scallops so much that he actually went home and ate a bowl of instant tom yam noodles. I thought his entre looked fine, though I became scared to taste it when he began insisting it was laced with mayonnaise. I wouldn't be surprised, Japanese are a tad mayo crazy, but the emulsified condiment wasn't listed as an ingredient. I only recall apple puree (as a bed for the seared sesame crusted scallops), celery root (a few scattered slices) and holy basil (in the form of lightly drizzled oil) as components. The celery root did appear to be coated in a white creamy sauce. I don't think the quality was poor, it just wasn't what he had had in mind.

Despite being offered a new job mere hours before this meal, we couldn't agree on whether this was a celebratory dinner or not. I said no at the end because it didn't go well and I wasn't feeling elated like I should've been. James said yes, since it ended up being more than we'd (ok, he'd) normally spend on food for a casual weeknight ($81). I don't care what he says, it didn't count–I'm getting another dinner.

Taku * 116 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

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Oct 15

Taco Chulo

Ok I didn't actually eat there, just drank a beer cocktail for research purposes. But I was with two members of their target audience: Williamsburg vegetarians, and they loved it. I guess that makes me a Carroll Gardens carnivore, though that sounds hideous.

We arrived around 10:30pm, a half hour before they stop serving food and it becomes alcohol-only. Our waiter's admonishment was highly amusing, "I want to warn you, after 11pm there's a dj. It gets very different in here." Uh, ok. So, they were playing hip hop when we were seated–what would happen 30 minutes later? Wham and Kajagoogoo is what happened. Thanks for the head's up, guy. There's nothing like music from middle school to make you feel thoroughly decrepit.

Taco Chulo * 318 Grand St., Brooklyn, NY

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Oct 6

Queen’s Hideaway

I'm wary of quirky restaurants like this–the seats are going to be all smooshed together, theyre not likely to have air conditioning, and you might be at the mercy of whatever is on that nights menu and subject to the whims of a chef in a small hot kitchen. But thats bad quirky and Queens Hideaway was anything but.

I rarely dine in Williamsburg/Greenpoint (I know theyre not the same, as any Greenpoint dweller trying to prove how un-scenester they are would stress, but to me it might as well be one big neighborhood) despite practically everyone I know living there. But I'm trying to branch out and be more social on weeknights, and its easy to convince a friend to join you for dinner when its walking distance to their apartment (me, I'm relegated to G train torment). So, after a few $2 Yuenglings at Zablozki's, Jessica and I headed up Manhattan Ave. in the weird steamy October mist.

I was afraid the small space would be crowded since it was 8pm and they'd had recent write-ups in the New York Times and New York, but thankfully, eaters love sitting outside (I do not) so the back garden was full while the teal-ceilinged interior wasnt near capacity. I knew they had a $5 corkage, which seems silly for a few Woodchuck Ciders, but whatever, because the food is a bargain. There were about four mains that averaged $12 and an equal amount of appetizers hovering around $5. A small bowl of boiled peanuts sits on the table, and at first we dug into them because as Jessica noted, “anything tastes good when youre hungry” (to which I'd add, and tipsy) and we were starving. But the mushy saline legumes grew on us after the first few.

It's strange, because I hate salads when I make them (same with sandwiches) but theyre always so much more impressive at restaurants. Thats likely due to all the little flourishes that dont seem worth the effort for one dish, but doable on a larger scale. My salad had half of a warm apple that had been stewed with chile peppers, which was much more subtle than it sounds, candied walnuts, an amazing cheese from Bobolink Dairy (I cant recall the exact name, its not on their site, but it had a rind washed with pear brandy, I think) that I wish I could go get for lunch right now but Murrays at Grand Central doesnt carry it, all atop a layer of wild looking long-stemmed arugula (stems normally freak me out, very autistic of me, I know and one of my very, very few food phobias). Sweet and peppery.

One of the reasons I dont frequently dine with friends is because they dont/wont eat what I want to, and thats no fun. Jessica is a vegetarian who has loosened up over the years and was hemming and hawing over whether she could eat the gumbo because it had something called sand shark in it, which creeped her out. And I was just like fucking order it, its fish not a mammal. So, I bossed her into eating a shark, then ordered the chicken fried steak, which I'm not normally crazy about (I mean, its just tough breaded beef), but I was swayed by the sides as I often am. The smoky, ham-hocky collard greens and fat butter beans definitely added oomph to the nothing special meat.

We had cheddar cheese crust apple pie and bread pudding supposedly in the style of Paul Prudhomme for dessert (they'd run out of a chocolate cake), which was a bit much, but hey, I needed some fortification for the unnecessarily long ride home (why does it take ten minutes to drive from my apartment to Greenpoint, yet take an hour by subway?). You could starve to death, or at least become bored to death, waiting for an off-hours G train.

Queens Hideaway * Franklin St., Brooklyn, NY

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Oct 1

Bar Minnow

This corner casual place is less an offshoot of its neighbor The Minnow, and more of a bar (hence the name). Their menu was less seafood-centric than I'd expected. While waiting for A History of Violence to start, I suggested Bar Minnow, and then promised James they'd have clam strips. Oops. I did get a decent oyster po boy, though. He ended up with an odd cheesesteak rendition that came au jus. Both sandwiches arrived with little metal buckets of fries, mine was also accompanied by an unexpected mini corn cob. It's bar food, and a good rendition, which what I'd wanted anyway (it had been a toss up between Bar Minnow and Bonnies). I'd heard horror stories about poor service, but didnt find this to be the case at all.

Bar Minnow * 444 Ninth St., Brooklyn, NY

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Sep 16

Luz

I find it irksome how New Yorkers are so tied to their neighborhoods, particularly Williamsburgers who treat the “nabe” like some hipster hobbit shire. I will gladly venture out of Carroll Gardens, though it recently struck me as odd that I haven't tried any of the newish restaurants in Clinton Hill/Fort Greene. In fact, I don't think I've set foot in the Pratt area since working there half a decade ago (jeez, its weird to quantify NYC time in terms of decades. It simultaneously makes you feel authoritative and really old).

For my first proper meal since my big S.E. Asian vacation I was aiming for something relatively local and recently opened. Little Bistro, Taku, Beast and Luz were the contenders, and somehow the latter won out.

The food is a Nuevo Latino mish mash, the décor modern and stylish, the clientele multicultural and both youthful and mature. It cuts a wide swath. James and I shared a trio of acceptable empanadas, tasty but kind of mushy. My entrée, a fairly traditional plate of lechon, plantains and rice and pigeon peas worked (and probably cost $5 more than at a Puerto Rican take out joint, a fair price for the ambiance). The pork was juicy and flavorful rather than dry and bland as it tends to be at these upper scale Hispanic restaurants.

James chose a weird dish of salmon crusted in brown sugar with something green and a lima bean puree. He wasn't fond of it, which wasn't surprising since it sounded a little off. The couple seated closely next to us ordered the exact same duo, he the fish, her the pork. Not that that's a testament to great ordering skills. I would suggest sticking to the less experimental dishes, and having a few strong caipirinhas.

Oh, and skip their version of a molten cake, which anyone with good sense would do anyway. I was just tempted by the accompaniments of coconut ice cream and caramelized bananas. James proclaimed the less-than-molten overcooked cake a “fucking muffin” which drew the amused attention of the loud Bay Ridgey girl right next to us (who'd replaced the earlier couple) who claimed to be an expert in molten cakes and joked that shed order hers “rare.” Unless you want to bond with your dining neighbors (and I know some people enjoy that sort of thing) keep quiet about your dessert's shortcomings.

Luz * 177 Vanderbilt St., Brooklyn, NY

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Aug 13

El Rincon Familiar

A girlfriend of an acquaintance recommended this place to my boyfriend. If anyone, she would know Tex-Mex since she grew up in the Lone Star State. I wasnt so wowed. I wanted gooey, greasy, cheese-laden fare, and this felt almost like spa food. Everything was clean, dry, fat-free and flavorless. My chicken enchiladas had no taste. The meat was too lean, Ive never understood the appeal of chicken breasts (though I use them extensively at home, we have the giant Costco bag in the freezer, but thats exactly why I dont want to eat chicken breasts at restaurants). The refried beans tasted dull and almost healthy. Not a lick of oil slicked the plate. It was all very Park Slope (despite being in that no man's land that's technically Sunset Park) and so not what I'd had in mind. I'd just as well stick with Mezcals for this sort of Americanized border food.

El Rincon Familiar * 651 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, NY

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Aug 12

Sweetwater

1/2
Williamsburg so rarely has its act together food-and-service-wise. You might get one, youre not likely to get both, and you just might get neither. I dont know if my standards have risen with my age, but my tolerance for cramped ill-thought-out seating, same table entrees spaced twenty minutes apart, and so-so dishes, isnt what it used to be.

I liked the idea of eating in a restaurant called Sweetwater that used to be the bar Sweetwater, at least for the sake of novelty. Not being wowed by any of the cooked offerings, I opted for a charcuterie platter and frisee salad. I guess thats French, though I wouldnt say this is a French restaurant. My food was perfectly fine, but James had a different feeling about his fish that almost never arrived.

I was more irked by the person seated haphazardly behind me. I was properly seated, squarely at a table. His chair had no proper place and had been added onto the corner of a table diagonal to me. The backs of our chairs were just shy of touching, which created blockage for anyone trying to get through the restaurant. I'm not the restaurant designer, it wasnt my idea, yet I managed to garner dirty looks all evening from patrons insistent on squeezing past. Perhaps this wouldnt have gotten under my skin so much if earlier, on the subway ride home this fat guido hadnt been shouting at me “Sweetie! Sweetie! Move ovah” from the complete other end of the row like it was my responsibility to give his ass space. I take these things personally.

Vibe matters, and it overshadowed my dining experience. I so rarely eat in Williamsburg anymore anyway that Sweetwater wouldnt warrant a return visit.

Sweetwater * 105 N. Sixth St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jul 16

Cholita

1/2 Funny, there was a story in todays NY Times about WWF (I know its WWE now, but it just doesnt look right) style wrestling Cholitas in Bolivia. Cholita, one of Cobble Hills Peruvian restaurants, wasn't as amusing, I'm afraid.

On a sickeningly steamy Saturday I decided try either Mancora or Cholita since I'd never been to either and Peruvian sounded like a random good idea. We opted for the latter, primarily because it was less crowded. In fact, the entire dining room was empty. I would normally take that as a bad sign if it werent for the full-to-capacity back patio, which we wanted nothing to do with. Maybe were freaks for sitting alone in air conditioned comfort, but humidity combined with a slew of strollers and the new mommies accompanying them, is the antithesis of a an enjoyable evening.

Even being the only diners in the room (at least temporarily), we still had trouble with our scatterbrained bed-headed waiter. They were out of Jamess original choice, something involving lamb, so he went for a basic hanger steak with chimichurri, medium rare. It ended up rarer than rare. I went for the paella, which I'm not the biggest fan of in the first place, it was a spur of the moment urge. But their bizarro addition of a frozen vegetable combo (lima beans, green beans and corn–isnt that succotash? I have a severe hatred of those mixed vegetable packs. The only time I tolerated them was way back in 91 when I got my first apt. and the only place that did Chinese delivery [which wasn't even in my S.E. Portland neighborhood, but downtown] had this sweet greasy pork stir fry that was full of frozen corn, machine cubed carrots and green beans that I'd frequently order even though I was well aware that it was so not Chinese) in the rice and seafood fray certainly didnt help change my opinion of the dish. Do they even eat paella in Peru?

It wasn't a heinous experience by any means. The Pisco sours were nice, the fried pork appetizer wasn't half bad, but I'm in no hurry to return. It's not like I'm in an early '90s Oregonian culinary wasteland; now choices abound. I think Cholitas back garden is the draw, much the same way nearby Pacificos open air seating trumps their cuisine. For me, al fresco atmosphere doesnt hold enough sway.

Cholita * 139 Smith St., Brooklyn, NY

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Jun 25

Elite Turkish

Despite visiting Sunset Parks Chinatown on a fairly regular basis, I've
never been inclined to eat Turkish food. Now that I think about, I hardly
eat at any of the neighborhoods restaurants. If I'm ever anywhere near the
area it automatically becomes a Ba Xuyen banh mi occasion.

Ill admit that most Middle Eastern cuisines blur a bit to me, its not my
strong suit. So I'd forgotten that Turkish food isnt thin pita oriented but
bready. I love the fluffy pide, but it might be better as an accompaniment,
not as gyro (I love testing the NYC propensity for the word gyro,
specifically when its pronounced jie-roe. James ordered the doner kabob,
which was written as such on the menu. Of course the waitress said,
“Ok, the gyro”) wrapper because it upsets the filling to starch
ratio. I ended up resorting to knife and fork to tear into what felt more
like a chopped lamb burger hidden in an enormous bun.

I'm sure the food is better than I'm portraying, we only sampled the
sandwiches. But the overall impression was so-so, if only because of little
missteps having nothing to do with taste. The space wasn't air conditioned
despite the outside heat, I was expecting real iced tea, not a can of Lipton
Brisk, and the waitress unnerved us with her pacing and hovering.

EliteTurkish Restaurant * 805 60^thSt., Brooklyn,
NY

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Posts from the ‘Brooklyn’ Category

Thomas Beisel

Taku

Taco Chulo

Queen’s Hideaway

Bar Minnow

Luz

El Rincon Familiar

Sweetwater

Cholita

Elite Turkish

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