The Big Apple Bites: Le Barricou, Brooklyn

Never order "the special." 

How many times have I heard Hubmeister utter that sage advice?  Several years and culinary letdowns later, I finally listened to him.  

Commonly known to people who have worked in restaurants, "the special" evolves from leftover or surplus ingredients the chef doesn't want to pitch, or it's a creative experiment that's being tested and tweaked before landing on the main menu.  When you take the plunge into "the special" pool, you might sink or you might swim.  And you might ask yourself, "Do I feel lucky tonight?" 

Unfortunately for Daughtress, she drowned in disappointment on our dinner visit to Le Barricou in Brooklyn. 

Daughtress currently lives in Brooklyn and wanted to give us a tour of the local scene in Williamsburg, so we ventured out of Manhattan.  Taking out my trusty Zagat Guide to New York City Restaurants, I flipped to Brooklyn and chose this French spot, which earned "very good to excellent" scores for food and decor, and also seemed reasonably priced.

Lest you be put off by my bold introduction, allow me to interject that I really liked this place.  The ambiance was charming and intimate, offering a romantic setting for couples -- and we saw lots of them.  A few candlelit tables were located outside the entrance, but because of the heat, everyone chose to dine indoors. Occupying a long, narrow space in a row of aging urban storefronts on Grand St., this cozy French bistro features a front room with a pretty dark-wood bar on one side and a smattering of tables on the other, and an adjacent dining area that stretches toward the back of the building. 

Ours was not the best table because we were sandwiched in a corner between the bar and the front window, and the wait staff had trouble serving us.  We ordered a bottle of Macon-Lugny white Burgundy, and Hubmeister was charged with putting it on ice and refilling glasses because the servers couldn't get to the bucket.  It was also uncomfortably warm inside, but I'll cut them some slack because the city was experiencing temperatures that I imagine might be found in Hell.

The oppressive heat was probably what drove Daughtress to select not one, but two specials:  a cold Cucumber Soup and a salad of Grilled Watermelon on Mixed Greens.  The soup was passable but a bowl of it was overkill, and the salad was a disaster.  The taste was off balance and she barely touched it.  The watermelon was devoid of sweetness, so any type of sweet and salty flavor contrast was missing.  The fruit possessed an unpleasant char and the dressing contained a mysterious ingredient that everyone at the table disliked.  It was a choppy night in the Sea of Specials, as Daughtress tried to stay afloat by sharing her parents' entrees. 

Hubmeister ordered a tasty and creamy Vegetable Risotto that he enjoyed, but I confess that I am the only family member who enthusiastically recommends trying this place.  I apparently made the best choice:  Coq au Vin.  Chicken falling off the bone and luxuriating in a delectable red-wine sauce was served over a heaping serving of some of the best mashed potatoes I have had anywhere.  The whole dish tasted as if it were lovingly prepared by a French grandmere.  This was comfort food defined, a perfect stew to order when there's a chill in the air. 

Pre-entree, both Hubs and I ordered house salads of mesclun dressed with Dijon vinaigrette, and they were fresh, bright and clean-the-plate good. We also reached a few times for the bread basket, which consisted of lovely baguette slices.

I would return to Le Barricou, but I am a sucker for rich, slowly cooked French food and an authentic Parisian bistro atmosphere.  Hubs could take or leave this place, but, really, how many vegetable risotto entrees are going to knock your socks off?

Will Daughtress give Le Barricou another try?  Probably not. 

Will she order off the standard menu from now on?  Do kids ever listen to their parents? 

Note:  No charge cards accepted but ATM on site.

Verdict:  Inviting neighborhood cafe.  Stick to the tried and true dishes.


http://lebarricouny.com/menus/menu_011909.pdf













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The Big Apple Bites: Adrienne's Pizzabar

If only a walk down Wall Street would bring some luck.  With so many uncertainties these days, there is one thing I know for sure:  If I were a NY trader right now (or probably any time, for that matter), I'd be drowning my sorrows on nearby Stone Street in the plethora of pubs and eateries flanking it.




Restaurants line the aptly named Stone Street.



If it weren't for the heat wave, dining al fresco may have won us over.


At the top of my list of hangouts would be Adrienne's Pizzabar. 

In a city that could be paved with pizza, you take note when you see this sign posted in a restaurant's window:

Named "Favorite Place to Eat Pizza"  by The New York Times?   Or how about these accolades:

Zagat rarely lets me down.


After enjoying the pizza at Eataly, I felt compelled to try it. 



Not your mama's pizza joint.


Like Eataly, this modern-looking establishment features Neapolitan pizza.  Sitting at the bar watching soccer on TV, and placing our order with the Italian bartender, we fell happily into the European vibe.  Service was somewhat aloof and there was a bit of confusion with Daughtress' order, but it was quickly remedied. 

What did I care?  My attention was focused on one thing and one thing only:

My 10-inch round of love.

Pizza Napoletana.  It tasted as good as it looks. 

The tomatoes were fresh and bright, the crust charred and crispy yet a tad chewy, and the garlic shavings and basil provided just enough seasoning.  It was an OMG moment.  Sorry Batali and Bastianich, this pizza reigns supreme.  I also saw several people consuming a thin-crust square pizza that looked favoloso. 


http://www.adriennespizzabar.com/

The Big Apple Bites: Chelsea Market

After writing that last post about crummy museum food, I thought I'd tell you about foodster heaven over at Chelsea Market.


Chelsea Market is colorful, and quite handy if you are searching for green cactus pears. 

I loved this place.  First of all, this section of Chelsea proved one of my favorite areas of the city. With its red-brick buildings and neighborhood charm, it's a pleasant spot to wander.  It's also a perfect fit for a marketplace teeming with bakeries, restaurants owned by Iron Chefs (Morimoto), kitchen shops, produce markets, fresh seafood stores, delis, creperies, coffee bars, spice and nut vendors, and an assortment of other interesting food and merchandise targeted at foodoids.  Last but not least, it is home to Food Network, which is why you may have seen some of the purveyors in the market featured on Food Network programs. 

A welcome respite from the blazing inferno outside, Chelsea Market is a cool indoor food cave housed in a restored biscuit factory.  What?  No wonder I like it.



With several locations throughout the city, Amy's is a wise place to spend your bread.

A winding brick promenade led me straight to Amy's Bread, where I sampled a savory black-olive twist and the biggest sticky bun you've ever seen.  Good?  Are you  kidding?  The yeasty specimen had to be 4 inches tall and oozed with yummy, buttery caramelization.  I detected an ingredient not usually present in sticky buns, possibly maple syrup or molasses.



Bakery voyeurism.  Huge panes of glass invite nosy foodies to peek.



http://www.amysbread.com/menu.htm




Next up:  Sarabeth's Kitchen.   Hubmeister and Daughtress sampled the pain du matin (translation:  bread of the morning) and a cheese-filled pastry. 

Folks enjoying the fruits of Sarabeth's Kitchen.



Meet the lovely Daughtress as she peruses the goods at Sarabeth's.

Sounds of "mmmm" resonated throughout the quaint little shop as the Food and Loathing family made their presence known.  Sarabeth's had several people sitting around drinking coffee and noshing on sweets in its pleasant little environment, but I understand it tends to pack 'em in.  I appreciated the calm.


http://www.sarabeth.com/restaurants.asp




A strong gravitational pull was drawing Hubs to Dickson's Farmstand Meats, a place boasting homemade hot dogs, but clearer heads prevailed and the estrogen-fueled members of the family yanked him away.  If Son of Hubmeister had been with us this trip, I know I would be reporting about those dogs right now.

Before I forget, I must mention the fresh -- as in still breathing on the crushed ice -- softshell crabs at the Lobster Place Seafood Market.  Boy, did they look good!

We arrived at Chelsea Market mid-morning, which was ideal, because the lunch crowd was piling in when we left for the next stop on the food train, Eataly.

http://www.chelseamarket.com/

The Big Apple Bites: Petrie Court Cafe

How in the world did we end up hungry at a museum? It's an amateur mistake. With a gazillion restaurants in New York City, the last on my wish list would be one located at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  But there we were, Hubmeister the Museum Freak and myself, hungry at 2 p.m. in a phenomenal museum, the fantastic bagels we savored that morning having faded into a happy memory.

As bad luck would have it, the Zagat-rated museum restaurant with the great view of the city, the Roof Garden Cafe, was closed due to the over-100-degree temperature, which left us with the choice of the cafeteria or the Petrie Court Cafe.  We picked the latter.




Floor-to-ceiling windows (right) provide a clear view of Central Park.


Petrie Court reminded me of an enormous, upscale hotel ballroom.  The clanking of dishes, waiters rushing about.  It's certainly nothing to write home about in the looks department, unless you are partial to monochromatic color schemes.  It is bright and airy, thanks to the great wall of windows overlooking Central Park.  Other than that, meh.  No warmth.  Lots of white and very museum-y.  Some people might like it, but it's not my thing, and we didn't have the benefit of window seating.

Capitalizing on its captive and hungry audience, this place zaps its clientele's wallets for the meals.  A Croque Monsieur is around $18.  Looked good.  I saw a lot of them go by.  But is a ham and cheese sandwich worth $18?  Yeah, I know.  It's New York.  Whatever. 

Immersed in this haughty atmosphere, I adopted the "When in Rome" mindset and ordered Traditional High Tea ($24).  


At High Tea, I had high hopes for the scones (top).  Read on.

The cinnamon spice tea was very nice; the little sandwiches - egg salad, a mini-croque monsieur (missing from photo because I grabbed that first), cucumber, and chicken salad (I think, I can't remember) - were fine bites, as were the dessert petits fours and raspberry tartlet.  The poppy seed cake stood out in flavor and texture.  I could have consumed a very large piece.

So much for the positive.  The rolls before the meal were terrible.  I had never seen people salt their bread   until this day, when I witnessed two patrons nearby take the salt shaker and do just that.  I was amazed when I saw the first person do it and astounded by the second.  This city is loaded with some of the best bakeries on the planet, so Petrie Court has no excuse for serving dry, stale-tasting rolls.  To make matters worse, the butter was served almost frozen, which prompted me to thaw the paper-wrapped pats under my hot tea cup to make it the least bit spreadable.  Yup, reminded me of hotel conference food.

Here's the topper, not only on my list of criticisms but also on my tea presentation:  the scones.  If you read my blog, you know I am a biscuit nut.  I make them.  I eat them.  I am obsessed with them.  Seeing the pretty scones perched atop the tea service at other tables cinched my order for traditional tea.  I was in New York City and I figured these scones had to be good.  These were not scones.  These were an embarrassment.  I can't even describe to you my disappointment, except to tell you that I started laughing as I tried to cut one in half and this is what happened:



To call them hockey pucks would be complimentary.


Hubmeister was still hungry after scarfing his entree salad topped with chicken, so he actually ate the scone fragments that exploded across the table. That should also tell you something about portion size. 

FYI - The bill was $71 (including tax and tip) for the tea service, a salad and a beer.  For that price,  I expect an exceptional lunch.  It was not.  We should have checked out the food trucks outside the museum and grabbed a quick bite on the steps.

Verdict:  Tourist trap.  Never travel without protein bars.


http://www.metmuseum.org/visit/dining/petrie_menu

The Big Apple Bites: Eataly

Where do I begin
To tell the story of how great the food can be,
The sweet love story that is older than the sea,
The simple truth about the weight it put on me...
Where do I start?

Forget the first hello! How about with last weekend's trip to New York City and the 4 pounds I piled on.

Daughtress is interning in Manhattan this summer and Hubmeister and I decided to swoop down on her for a visit. Hubs grew up on Long Island and I had been to NYC on a few occasions, so it wasn't virgin territory. What was new to us was vacationing in triple-digit temperatures. I don't know why I packed any makeup because it melted off my face. Leave it to us to leave an area known for sweltering temps for one that is even hotter. But the food (and seeing the lovely Daughtress, of course) were worth it. Here's a taste of one our dining excursions...

Eataly
I posted about this Mario Batali-backed food emporium last year when it opened. The concept seems to have taken off because this place is a friggin' Italian madhouse.

Picture a grand food court. Noisy atmosphere. Crush of people. It's a scene you would expect to find at noon in most malls in America during the Christmas shopping season. The difference here is that the coffee shop features Lavazza, not Starbucks; the frozen treats are gelato, not ice cream; the baked goods are cannolis, not tollhouse cookies; and the food looks really topnotch, not like greasy mall grub.  

Interspersed with counter-service offerings are several sit-down Italian restaurants, many with bar seating overlooking the cooking areas, and each featuring a specialty such as seafood, pasta, pizza, vegetables, meat, you name it. 

The dining setup is confusing to the uninitiated, due in part to the lack of defined space for each restaurant, creating a free-for-all atmosphere. The absence of enclosed spaces, and no clear directions about where to go or what to do to get a table, produce an air of chaos and confusion. We wandered around and saw what looked like a hostess station at one of the eateries, so we figured we weren't supposed to plop down at any open table. But we did see several other folks committing this faux pas, totally unaware of it until they were asked to remove their keisters from the recycled plastic chairs and put their names in at the appropriate hostess station. Embarrassing. As we dined, people were stumbling haphazardly into the restaurant space, with one brazen lady approaching our table and asking to see my menu. What the heck! Did she think she was in Fort Lauderdale?

After we checked in with a not-so-friendly hostess, whose greeting consisted of "name, how many?", we waited an hour for a table. If you like roaming around with huge crowds of people, you won't mind the fact that there are no waiting areas. By chance, we happened upon a few chairs stacked near a window and tried to remain inconspicuous sitting beside a group of extra highchairs.

While I am "loathing," here's another bugaboo:  The hostess doesn't call your name when a table is ready or give you a buzzer -- she tells you to keep checking in with her. This procedure is totally stupid and a royal pain, especially when the line at the hostess stand is always 15-people deep and pushing your way through the sweat-drenched masses is not on Frommer's list of Top Ten Things to Do in New York City.

Okay, enough about the atmosphere and operational snafus. You know not to expect cushy environs or serenity. The food, however, was worth these annoyances. (Read:  You must be a foodie to put up with this crap.)

We chose the pizza and pasta eatery, where I saw Neapolitan pizzas (go elsewhere if you are looking for Brooklyn-style New York pizzas) landing on tables right and left.

If Mario and partners Lidia and Joe Bastianich are putting their stamps of approval on the pizza recipes, you know they've got to be good. And mine was. Simple and satisfying, the Pizza Margherita had a crispy crust and no trace of sogginess. The few quality ingredients -- tomato sauce, mozzarella, basil and dough -- gelled harmoniously, none overpowering the others. Fresh and simple ingredients topped the thin and delightfully blistered crust. The only herb in this pizza was a sprig of fresh basil, and the pie was absolutely delicious. My minor criticism is evident in the photo below, which screams, "More cheese, please!"

Daughtress and Hubmeister both ordered a pasta dish of ravioli stuffed with meat, then tossed with butter. You could really taste the veal in this dish and appreciate the freshness of the handmade pasta, which came in the shape of petite squares. The waiter indicated menu items that featured homemade pasta because not all dishes do. Portions were adequate -- not overwhelming -- and my dining companions had no trouble downing slices of my pizza while cleaning their own plates.

The only accompaniment with our orders was a basket of fabulous Italian bread and plain olive oil for dipping. Again, simple and flavorful. You don't need to add a ton of seasonings to good olive oil. This Italian oil was fruity and tasty enough to stand on its own.

A limited beer and wine list is available, so Daughtress enjoyed a glass of Italian pinot grigio while Hubs and I swigged refreshing Morettis. Prices ranged between $10 and $20 for our entrees.

After watching Mario for years on TV talking about the peasant food of Italy and the simplicity inherent in Italian cooking, I feel I was able to appreciate his philosophy first-hand.

Here's a tip if you hate crowds but still want to try the food at Eataly:  Buy a takeout panini or some fresh bread, cheese and cured meats, and head across the street to Madison Square Park.  Hubmeister and I enjoyed this nice little park after our meal.  Ahh...serenity now!

http://eatalyny.com/

Ft. Lauderdale Grub Notes

Have you noticed my absence? I have a paid writing gig that's taken me away from my Food and Loathing habit. I'll still be posting, though, because I love to throw around my opinion...

Which brings me to a couple nights I recently spent visiting the Oldsters, a.k.a. my parents, in what I like to call Ft. Liquordale. As usual, I was lax in my picture taking. I am trying to stick to the New Year's take-more-photos resolution, but we all know how that goes. So, here is a quick rundown (sans photos - sorry!) of my dining adventures in the old stomping grounds of my youth.

LaSpada's
The sign out front of this Lauderdale-by-the-Sea location indicates the owner's Philly origin, but around these parts, the subs are all homegrown. This itty-bitty place is packed on a daily basis and why is a no-brainer:  The subs are amazing.

Why anyone would order anything other than the Italian Special is beyond me, but the menu offers numerous sandwich options. The fresh-tasting bread is chewy yet soft and the cold cuts are cut to order. No pre-sliced junk here. 

As you wait in the snaking line at the counter, you will actually be treated to a slice-and-toss show the likes of which you have never seen.  One guy slices all the meats and literally throws the stack of cold cuts down the line, aiming for the roll that will house them.  I saw him land a few.  Random misses are caught by the sandwich maker and slapped into place, then topped by cheese of choice, lettuce, tomato, onions, and sweet and hot peppers, and then topped again by more meat. That added meat is a nifty way to hold everything in.  Oil, vinegar and a sprinkle of oregano dress the Italian Special, but choose mayo or mustard if you must. 

Subs come in two sizes:  6 or 12 inches. Yes, I went for the mondo size and made it through about 10 inches worth before caving.  Twelve-inchers are about $10 and worth every cent.  These subs are well-known throughout the city and for good reason. 

A word of advice:  Go a little before noon to beat the crowd and be prepared to yell your order over the hoard of bikini-clad and business-attired sub lovers. Takeout only.

http://www.laspadashoagies.com/





J. Mark's
With a couple of locations, one in Lauderdale and one in Pompano, J. Mark's is popular with the locals. The Oldsters love it because Mom can sit comfortably in a booth and order gigantic hunks of red meat that she never finishes and ultimately takes home.  Most of the time she hones in on the Fred Flintstone prime rib (which is something you don't see on a lot of menus these days -- this restaurant serves it on specific nights) but this time she went for a variation of the theme:  Prime Rib Sliders. 

Mom reads a million newspapers a day and she was well-aware that J. Mark's had just won the award for best sliders in the city, an accolade proudly proclaimed by the waitress as she nodded approvingly while taking Mom's order.  Dad, whom I believe is responsible for Sister Foodie's and my adventuresome spirits when it comes to dining (thanks to our childhood flashbacks of him devouring steak tartare and raw ground beef), ordered the Ahi Tuna appetizer for his entree.  He recommended the Ahi Tuna at J. Mark's, so that's what I got, but in entree form.

Before I get to the mains, however, I have to tell you about the weird appetizer. They were egg rolls with a Mexican twist, loaded with avocado and cilantro. The menu states the ingredients also include red onions and sun-dried tomatoes, but I don't remember them. This appetizer ($10.99), which Dad ordered for the table to share, was Mom's idea, and if you knew my mother, you'd know she would loathe this starter. She pictured traditional Chinese egg rolls.  As expected, she hated them.  Dad and I ate them but one still remained when the waitress removed the plate. Bad sign. I don't think Mexican flavors pair well with egg roll wrappers.  Perhaps this appetizer explains why you never see Mexican-Chinese fusion cuisine.

The Ahi Tuna ($24.99), on the other hand, was mouth-watering.  Prepared with a perfect sear on the outside and retaining a cool pink center, the tuna had a really flavorful, crispy-peppery crust.

Dad's tuna appetizer ($13.99) was picturesque and offered a lovely portion if you had pigged out earlier in the day on a 12-inch LaSpada's sub. His tuna was accented with wasabi pesto and the plate included pickled cucumbers and a Soba Peanut Noodle Salad.

Mom savored those award-winning sliders ($12.99) and, yes, took most of them home. Smeared with horseradish and basil pesto, they were served au jus and came with sweet potato fries. Those fries looked good to me, but Mom is a traditionalist who likes her fries white, not orange. She will remember to specify her preference for Russets next time.

With its warm, all-wood decor, ice-cold beer, and dependable food and service, J.Mark's is an understandable local favorite.

http://www.jmarksrestaurant.com/menu.html





Aruba Beach Cafe
Talk about a location! I can't believe I had never been to Aruba when the Oldsters live only a couple blocks from it. Aruba is located smack-dab on the beach beside the pier at A1A and Commercial Blvd. We had a clear view out the walls of windows of gently rolling waves and all the lively sights of Lauderdale's beach.  I highly recommend this spot for heterosexual men because the ladies out there sunbathing had spent some serious time at the gym and they were letting everybody know it. Thankfully, I was spared the stomach-churning vision of men in thongs because that would have killed my appetite.

Aruba has three massive bars inside one huge restaurant, and the joint was jumpin' as Mom, Dad, our friend The Professor, and I wove our way around the bars and through the tropical, Caribbean-themed dining rooms to our awesome table.

Mom ordered the Pulled Pork Sandwich and Dad got a Cold Seafood Platter, both specials of the day. The Professor selected the Lobster Salad Sandwich and I got a Blackened Mahi Mahi Sandwich.

Mom and Dad were very happy with their selections. Dad's plate offered crab legs, shrimp, oysters and a variety of dipping sauces. My Mahi Mahi was grilled with Cajun spices, served on a good bun and complemented by a tasty tartar sauce that I used as a dipper for my fries. Although the fries weren't homemade, their crunchy seasoned coating made them irresistible.

The least impressive dish at this oceanfront lunch fest was the Lobster Salad Sandwich. It tasted fishy, the lobster was pulverized, and it was sandwiched between three pieces of supermarket-variety whole wheat bread. The restaurant advertises this as Bimini Bread, which they say they make daily. What? I will pass. The Professor gave me half her lobster sandwich, I gave her half my fish sandwich and it's clear which dish was the winner.

Service was memorable; we had a fun older waitress who constantly brought me fresh cups of coffee. She clearly enjoyed her job, and that enthusiasm is seldom seen in restaurants these days -- at least in my travels.

Sister Foodie says the food at Aruba has always been mediocre. Considering this city's endless dining choices, I don't think I would invest in dinner at Aruba, but lunch and/or drinks are worth it just for the atmosphere. 

Oh, and if you were there during my visit, you would have seen my mother trying to pocket the coffee creamers. Dad pulled her away from the table just in the knick of time. She has lived in South Florida far too long.

http://www.arubabeachcafe.com/home.htm

Weighing in on "Top Chef Masters"

If you've been watching "Top Chef Masters," you recently saw Chef Hugh Acheson voted off.  Actually, it was the second time this season he got the boot.  In a strange turn of events, one of the other chefs dropped out of the competition and Chef Hugh returned to redeem himself from the mortal sin of oversalting.  He was doing pretty well until he committed another whopper in "chefdom" -- a broken mayonnaise.   Although Chef Hugh disputed the criticism, he was given the "pack your knives and go" directive. 

It's too bad the chef never got to make Frogmore Stew or the pumpkin dessert that Son of Hubmeister and I fought over at his Athens, Ga., restaurant.    

I warmed to Acheson as I watched this season unfold and he revealed with each episode more of his quirky personality. His dry sense of humor brought some levity to an otherwise boring group of chefs.  His recent sarcastic exchanges with the scientist on the science education challenge were especially entertaining. 

If you read my post about his award-winning restaurant, Five & Ten (http://foodandloathingintampabay.blogspot.com/2010/10/eating-up-athens-five-ten.html), you'll now understand that placing that Chaines des Rotisseurs membership certificate near a toilet doesn't seem that out of character.  I suspected an off-the-wall sense of humor.  Sorry to see him go. 

Here's a link to an Atlanta Journal-Constitution interview with him about the show:    http://blogs.ajc.com/food-and-more/2011/06/08/catching-up-with-hugh-acheson/  If you read the comments section, you'll see that not everyone shares my humble opinion.  What do you think?