Revised Mission

At the outset of this blog I was determined to regularly crank out useful entries. Turning over stones everywhere and finding diamonds, but the truth of the matter is: there just aren’t that many diamonds.

Yes, I have been neglectful at times when I have been busy, and just plain lazy at others. However, there are literally 10 half-finished blog entries in my folder. Each of which has involved numerous trips to spots, picture taking, hours of thought and consideration, and time spent writing. And in the end, none of these places actually met the criteria I first set out to meet, to the extent that I didn’t feel right publishing the entries.

For instance, I have long been an advocate of Waterfalls on Atlantic ave. in Brooklyn, but the last few times that I have been there I considered it below par. It has good Syrian food and is run by a terrific Mother/Daughter duo. It was alright but I didn’t feel right selling it to my loyal readers (all 6 of you) as “worth the trip”. I like the place . . . . I do. But I came to realize that I was convincing myself it was worthy of publication on my list of favorite spots. I had had a few less-than-great meals there, that left me questioning it. Consistency, afterall, is one my main criteria. I can talk myself into or out of anything, but these things should not take convincing. They should be solidly obvious candidates for secret eats.

What I’m getting at is that the restaurants listed on my blog are not chosen lightly. They are thoroughly tested and considered, and if I’m not 100% sure, then they don’t make the cut.

That said, if you haven’t tried the places I’ve written about so far, you should. Because looking back I am still certain of their goodness and I still go back to test them as often as I can.

Where it all Started

I lived on the corner of 53rd st. & 9th Avenue for 3 years. Like a New Yorker, I would hustle past small non-descript restaurants without giving notice. One in particular, was directly below my apartment. It had no neon sign, no sleek design and no beautiful patrons to draw me in. Until, after two years of being oblivious, I noticed a line of people waiting for a seat. There was a Festival for Semana Santa at a small Peruvian church on 51st street and there were food vendors in the streets, but everyone seemed to want to eat at this one spot.

So I took note, but that was pretty much it. Months passed before I finally decided to eat there, as a last resort I’m sure. But I was immediately taken with this little eatery. The food was somehow exceptional. A heaping plate of ceviche mixto, mixed fresh seafood marinated in citrus with fresh cilantro, shaved red onions, half of a steamed sweet potato, and toasted corn. Aji de gallina, a traditional Peruvian dish of shredded chicken smothered in a rich chili sauce, served with hardboiled eggs and green olives. And Parihuela, a gigantic bowl of seafood soup, with crab legs creeping over the side. It had every sea creature imaginable floating in a fragrant broth. All with a side of perfectly fried yucca and lime. It was all completely new to me, and I was infatuated.

I was also disappointed that I had overlooked this place, El Riconcito Peruano, for so long. And maybe even a little ashamed that I had discriminated against because it lacked an outright appeal. I had blatantly misjudged this book by its cover, and missed out on some great food as a result.

As I returned to explore the menu, I pondered further the dilemma of this situation. Everything I tried on the menu was delicious and done well. The Yucca, for example, was always fried well, crispy and light, never greasy. As a cook I know this is a simple endeavor, but not necessarily an easy one. To consistently fry, the oil had to be changed often, a costly measure. The oil would have to always be at the right temperature to achieve crispiness without seeming oily. Lastly, and most importantly, the person doing the frying actually cared enough to consistently execute the process with care.

The ceviche mixto, basically a raw seafood salad, was only served on the weekend. I assume for the reason that the business could not move enough ceviche during the week to merit serving it; or in layman’s terms, simply to guarantee freshness. The underlying characteristic being that “if they can’t do it well, they don’t do it”.

I realized the overall quality of this food was exceptional, and I wasn’t paying much for such a great product. I had developed the habit of settling for mediocrity when dining. Paying too much for too little. In addition to this, came the realization that New York streets were peppered with gems like this and that I really wanted to mine them out. With these came the nagging feeling that I was rushing through my life. Hustling through my time in New York without enjoying it.

Unfortunately El Riconcito closed its doors in October of 2006. I don’t knows why for sure. So today I open my eyes a little when I walk down the street. I slow down and peer in places that look like they have potential, and if they do, I try them out. Most are “just fine”, but every once in while, one is truly noteworthy. These places make all the effort worthwhile and lend themselves to the feeling that my days are not wasted. El Riconcito Peruano is where it all started.

Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwich Shop

2nd St. Bet. 1st & A










In the daily dilemma that is lunch, simplicity can be a great thing, especially when it costs you 5 bucks. And Nikki’s Vietnamese Sandwich Shop could not be simpler or more delicious.
A Vietnamese sandwich, if you haven’t had one, is a culinary result of French colonization in Vietnam. The Vietnam part: various proteins (pate, grilled chicken, even sardines) with marinated carrots, cucumbers and cilantro. The French part: a healthy smear of mayo and a crispy baguette. Some how the perfect marriage of these cuisines . . . wrapped in deli paper with a side of siracha hot sauce.

Sandwichy enough to satisfy the stereotypical lunch craving, but unique enough to quell the desire to have something different. All the while; a very tasty meal.
My only beef with Nicky’s is the size of the sandwich. One is just not enough, and two is too much. To make matters worse, the non-sandwich items on the menu aren’t really worth trying. My solution? Bring a friend and get 3 sandwiches! You’ll get more variety and one and a half sandwiches is the perfect amount.

Nicky’s has a short list of five sandwiches, available spicy if you like, all for around five dollars. And I like all of them. You should make the trip over there and give it a try. Let me know what you think.

Soba-Ya

On 9^th st. bet. 2^nd & 3^rd

Unlike with Thailand, I have no basis with which to measure the authenticity of this place. I have not been to Japan and tasted regional specialties. Still, I find I have some deep rooted affinity for Japanese cuisine. I do not know exactly why. I am, however, able to compare Soba-Ya to the typical eating experience, and they rise above it in every way.

Starting with the character of the place, they are honest and relentlessly polite. They do not take dinner reservations, so if there is a wait, and there usually is, they do not round down your estimated wait time to get you to stick around. 20 minutes is usually 20 minutes, and an hour, an hour. Upon arriving, they take your name and number, and when your turn arrives, they call you and hold your table until you get there. I appreciate their honesty and lack of favoritism. I mention this because it is one of peeves when a 15 minute wait at the bar becomes and hour and a half, and obvious late comers are seated before you.

That said, the food and service here are also exceptional. You start with four menus in front of you, which seem overwhelming, but are really straightforward.

There is an appetizer menu, my favorite one of the bunch. It is two full pages of various Japanese plates. Things you’ll recognize from many Japanese menus, and things you’ve never heard of before. Tuna Yuba Maki ($8.50), a tuna tar tare, wrapped in tofu skin, with spicy avocado, is delicious. They have numerous vegetable preparations, but you can order a sampler and pick any three ($11). Kimpira, sautéed marinated burdock, is one of my favorites, along with the lotus root, and the fried eggplant in dashi. A less-than-common broiled sweet miso ($5.50), it’s literally a pile of mild miso paste, placed on a wooden spoon and then broiled. I have not tried everything on this appetizer menu, but I have yet to find anything I didn’t find exceptional.

Then, you have a main course menu composed of noodles and various meat & fish over rice. They have great soups, that come in a yummy aromatic broth you can choose between the soba or udon noodle. I love the salmon “Mizuke” as well ($9.50), flakes of cooked salmon over steaming short grain rice, with just a little too much salmon roe . . . the way it should be. But the soba noodles, obviously, are their staple. They are homemade and If you’re there at lunch, you will see them cut by hand in the dining room. I prefer them cold. It was several visits before I was politely informed that I was eating them incorrectly.

Zaru soba ($9.50) are served with a side of tsuyu, a dipping sauce made of dashi, sweet soy sauce, and mirin, that I poured over my noodles like it was a dressing. Later in the meal some soba-yu, is delivered, this is the water that the soba is cooked in. It is supposed to be added to the remaining tsuyu and sipped reverently. . . I was adding it to my tea. Despite having learned the hard way, I confess to smirking at other ignorant “white folks” trying soba for the first time.

There is a third menu of seasonal specialties and daily specials, mostly drawn from the first two menus, but there are still a few items that come and go with new seasons and ingredients. Scan it closely for things that might not have been in the previous two, and if it sounds interesting at all, get it.

The forth menu is the sake list. I happen to love sake and they have some hard to find ones. This is the only place where I feel like Soba-Ya pushes the limits of value. 17 bucks for a box of sake is a little steep, so it is only every so often that I treat myself.

Overall Soba-ya is an incredible place to eat. The service is great, and the food comes fast. The prices are very reasonable and the quality does not cease. It is one of my favorite places to eat in New York city. For this reason it is hard to imagine going to Japan and not holding its cuisine to the standards of Soba-ya.

Update: Soba ya has since condensed their menu into one. They still have the great variety and the same great food.

Pam's Real Thai

As much as I love Thai food, I can’t claim to be an expert on it. I ate at Pam’s Real Thai Food, on 49^th st. between 9^th & 10^th ave.s, for the first time about four years ago at the recommendation of a friend and I was immediately hooked. A little over a year ago I went to Thailand for a couple of weeks to eat all that I could; Pam’s, is now one of the only Thai restaurants in New York where I will go.

I know that this qualifies me for sheer snobitude (yes, it’s a word) but this is one of the drawbacks to knowledge and experience. That you are aware of what you might be missing out on, namely authenticity. Something Pam’s is rich with. Som Tum, a salad made of shredded unripe papaya, was served at almost every meal when I was in Thailand and is on most Thai menus in New York. Pam’s Som Tum is certainly the most reminiscent of those I had in Thailand. There is an oxtail soup in an aromatic broth that is incredible. The whole fish “Pam’s style” is always great. And if you think you can handle spice, the catfish pad ped will put you to the test, definitely worth the pain though.

Pam’s has it draw backs though. While the servers are always nice, they are not always attentive or thorough. Pam’s also seems to have “white people food” and “thai people food” and it is sometimes hard to convince the staff that you are worthy of the “thai people food”. My advice is to order things that you might think Thai people would eat. Be sure to start with som tum, and to ask for a side of fresh chili and some sticky rice. Let them know you are not afraid of spice or strong flavors and they will take care of you. It might seem like a sir pooflerus* effort, and it is, but the reward is well worth it. And it comes at a very reasonable price.

While these flaws might detract from aspects of your eating experience, the food will most certainly be delicious enough to overshadow them. And Pam is almost always there to see to that.

*Side Note: I know that is not how you spell superfluous. “sir pooflerus” is my gamer tag on xbox, I thought it would be clever to switch them out for those who might get the reference. So the meaning is twofold 1. it is something that the aforementioned “sir pooflerus” {me} would do and 2. it is seems superfluous.

B&H Dairy

Occasionally, in New York eateries, you come across the “one trick pony”. A restaurant where the production of one thing seems to take precedence over the rest of the menu. When a particular item comes naturally, while the rest of the business is an afterthought.

At B&H, a small diner on 2^nd ave. between St. Marks & 9^th St, the world revolves around challah. The majority of their food, while satisfying, is mediocre at best. Fortunately everything comes with two thick slices of perfect challah. Hard crispy crust around a soft chewy dough, smeared with too much butter. If you’re lucky you will get there while it’s warm.

It seems as though there is a constant challah-cycle going on. Fluffy proofed dough coming out of a fridge and going into an oven: coming out of the oven and onto a cooling rack. And from there to the cooks station where it is sliced and buttered to order. They move a lot of this stuff and I will make any excuse to help myself to more.

But the best excuse B&H offers is a steamy bowl of borscht, great for challah dipping. The matzo ball soup is good too. And any sandwich made with the challah and grilled is worth trying. The tuna melt is especially yummy, in a diner kind of way.

It would seem that B&H is not worth a special trip, to go out of your way for a slice of good bread. But if you’re in the neighborhood with an appetite, give it a try and you will find yourself making your way back for another helping.

Azuri Cafe

The first and foremost draw to this place is the owner, Ezra Cohen. He is always there and at first might come off as disinterested and even rude. He’s a no nonsense guy, often hard pressed to smile, especially when the line is out the door, but don’t let his Israeli approach to business stand between you and his food.

There are no frills here, at all. No décor, no drink list and no special service, just Ezra’s food. And his food is somehow the product of his character. No nonsense straight & simple Israeli (& Kosher) fare. The cook’s station is a rainbow of bright vegetables, slaws, pickles and spreads all made in-house. The matzo ball soup is very good, and the shawarma sandwich, stuffed to the brim, is like a different sandwich in every bite. Normally I might nit pick this sandwich with the complaint of uneven ingredient distribution, but there are so many components to taste them all would be overwhelming. And, the variety keeps the sandwich interesting in a very satisfying way.

There is also my favorite, the Combination Salad Plate. A little helping of everything in the place, topped off with falafel and served with pita. One of my favorite one-plate meals in the city. Followed by some baklava and a Turkish coffee. All for a whopping 13 dollars. Unbeatable.

If I had to draw a comparison, I would go out on a limb and compare Ezra to one of his own falafel; hard and crusty on the outside, but soft in the middle. Ezra, it turns out, is a very nice man, with a great memory for his clientele. It truly seems like he spends his days doing what he loves to do. We, the customer, are an afterthought but the beneficiaries of great food from a good man.