South 4th Street Just Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop, Blowing Up (aka the “Traif, Mazel Tov!” Post)

South 4th Street just can’t stop, won’t stop, blowing up.

First, Pies ‘n’ Thighs, and their glorious comfort food and even more glorious pies. Then, Dram, a cocktail geek’s cocktail bar that’s been almost two years in the making. I stopped by on Friday night and management said they’d “officially-officially” been open for a week at that point (but if you followed me on Twitter you’d have known that already #shamelessselfpromotion).

Now, the eminent arrival of Traif, with its passion for all things un-kosher organized into an eclectic menu of small, sharable plates of deliciousness — shrimp, scallops, bacon, chorizo, pork belly, pork cheeks, potstickers, foie gras, lobster, ribs several ways — separated from one of Brooklyn’s prominent Hasidic communities by a  mere eight lanes of traffic accessing the Williamsburg Bridge.

Foot-in-mouth move? No way.

The dynamic duo running the restaurant — co-owners Heather Heuser and chef Jason Marcus — were scouting locations in the East Village and LES for Traif long before settling on this South Williamsburg gem (check out the restaurant’s blog for photos of the sleek, casual interior and stunning backyard).

They’d also checked around a bit with the community, said Heuser, when the chef and I chatted with her on Friday night. If anything, the response they got back was: “Well, that makes it easy for us to know where not to go.” (“Traif” is a Hebrew word that refers to un-kosher foods.)

….Which just means more un-kosher goodness for the rest of us. High-five to that!

TIP: Absolutely do not skip one of Traif’s signature cocktails, the Red Pearl (chili-infused vodka muddled w/ kiwi, Thai basil and homemade sweet and sour mix), which is named in homage to the Cali restaurant where Heuser and Marcus first met. If the brightness and freshness of these flavors are any indication of the duo’s plans for the restaurant, I’ll toast to that.

—
Pies ‘n’ Thighs, 116 S. 4th St., at Driggs St., 347-529-6090. More info here.
Dram, 177 S. 4th St.,  btwn. Driggs St. and Roebling St., 718-486-dram. More info here.
Traif, 229 S. 4th St., nr. Borinquen Pl., 347-844-9578. More info here.

Reflections on the Village Voice Choice Eats Event (aka the “Meet These Soups” Post)

I love the concept of the Choice Eats event as much as anyone: Restaurants that the Village Voice has reviewed favorably over the past year are given a chance to showcase their food to a ravenous audience — as in, actually hungry as well as hungry for more input, more knowledge, about this city’s fine (and expansive) food culture.

You might romanticize the scene a bit (I did), imagining people mingling and mixing under the Armory’s expansive cover, long rows of decorated tables laden with plates of food tastes for the taking — after all, this is a tasting event, and we’re here to eat.

Arriving about 7:15p — or about 15 minutes after the VIP portion of the event was over and general admission had been let in — the scene was anything but civilized.

The masses of people crowding each table were so thick they blended into the next; not a single vendor could keep up with demand. The crowds were so deep in front of some booths — such as Baohaus — that they impeded the flow of foot traffic down the center of the aisle, which was at least 10′ from the table. It didn’t relent the entire night. (On principle, I refused to push my way through that throng for a taste of Chef Bao’s signature certified angus skirt steak “as seen on the Food Network.” I’d prefer to visit the restaurant and order it.)

in the weeds at Luke's Lobster station

But I give Baohaus, and its neighbor, Luke’s Lobster, a ton of credit for sticking with it and serving the throngs clear through the near end of the event, because a surprising number of vendors — Mooncake Foods, Fatty Crab and Fort Defiance among them — were out of food and packing up by 7:45p, not even an hour into the general admission session.

Other vendors who stuck it out until the end: Agnanti Restaurant of Astoria, Peppa’s Jerk Chicken of Brooklyn, Rajbhog Sweets & Snacks of Jackson Heights and Mumbai Xpress of Floral Park. (::applause::)

Curiously, these vendors are all from deep in the outer boroughs — not Manhattan, and not trendy Brooklyn. Which led me down this rabbit hole:

Q. So are they here the longest because people aren’t as familiar with their food, and so are less hesitant to try? — That can’t be true. Like a locust cloud, this crowd was systematically devouring every morsel in sight.

Q. Are they here the longest because they use inherently cheaper ingredients, and therefore can bring greater volume (e.g., vegetarian street snacks vs. porchetta)? —Well, I’m not sure whether that’s true or not, but look at Luke’s Lobster, making bite-sized shrimp rolls with sustainable Maine shrimp, and Baohaus. They’re using fairly premium proteins and they’re still here.

Q. So why are a majority of vendors out of food so soon? I mean, as a vendor, of course at some point you plan to run out — to take anything home would be a waste. But to see so many vendors shuttering up so early was shocking, even by tasting event standards.

…I’m going to leave that one open for debate, although certainly I have my own opinions. Instead, let’s wrap this post up with a short note on two of my favorite unexpected tastes of the night:

The first being Dumont‘s spring chowder, with cucumber scent, mussels, clams, shrimp and an herb pestou. I absolutely adored the color; the seafood wasn’t skimpy and as a bite; and in a bite you got both the traditional chowder flavors — the creaminess, the sea taste of the bivalves — with just a little something je ne sais quoi teasing your tongue around the edges. And green! So fun.

The second being (surprise!) another soup, this one the Cullen Skink soup from the boys at the Highlands, a new Scottish gastropub in the West Village that if I made a three-figure salary (ha!), I’d be there on the regular, working my way through their extensive list of single malt scotches.

I’ve never had Cullen Skink soup before. A quick Google search (and menu confirmation) reveals the soup’s named after the Scottish town of Cullen and that “skink” is an old Scottish word for “soup.” Of course.

The soup is a milky broth, each spoonful studded with soft potato chunks and smoked haddock that otherwise lurk beneath the surface. Mellow and creamy with just the right punch of smokiness and fishiness, I was a fan. (also pictured is the Highland’s vegetarian shepard’s pie.)

The Village Voice Choice Eats event is held every March in New York, NY. More information can be found here. (For contact information for any restaurant mentioned, click on the link.)

Chinese and Japanese, Together Under One Roof? (aka the “No, Not Fusion… Something Else” Post)

“Hunan Delight Matsuya
Chinese & Japanese Cuisine”

One phone number, one address. And then there’s the matter of the handwritten sign that reads “FREE WINE” in the window.

What.

I’ve been perplexed by this locals Upper East Side restaurant since I moved into the area last spring. What is this, Chinese and Japanese fusion?*

The take-away menus make certain that it’s two restaurants — Hunan Delight, a Chinese restaurant, and Matsua Japanese cuisine — in one space.

Again: What! How can two such disparate cuisines — different ingredients, techniques, cultural histories — cohabit? How can this possibly work?

Well, except, it does. The food’s actually really good.

We came for the free wine, the Chinese food (after I found out Hunan Delight gets rave reviews online, to my surprise) and maybe a California roll. (It’s hard to mess up a roll made of crab stick, avocado and cucumber.)

What we discovered:

— Free wine offer is truly free: one glass of cheap, but crisp and very drinkable white wine, per person at dinner

— One of my new favorite Chinese dishes, called Green Jade Chicken ($11.95). Plump white meat pieces woked over high heat in “chef’s spicy sauce” (not really that spicy) along with matchstick-sized pieces of fresh ginger and string beans.

In the heat, the sauce caramelizes into a crisp, light glaze on the beans and chicken; the fresh ginger adds a welcome kick. This dish is the exact antithesis to the soggy, fatty, greasy Chinese food of styrofoam yore. It’s just lovely.

— And the sushi? You can find far worse sushi in supermarkets everywhere. Entranced by the platter of Dragon Rolls the sushi chef was putting up on the counter (see below) … so we ordered one.

It turned out to be a cooked roll (I still haven’t tried the raw sushi here) — shrimp tempura and cucumber on the inside, wrapped in eel and avocado on the outside.

— Doting, attentive service, of the sort you only get at a restaurant where the proprietors are that hands on, that involved, with everything.

There was a certain activity in the restaurant the night we were there, tables being reconfigured, the sushi chef turning out dragon rolls like nobody’s business, a party of young twenty-somethings turns up with a bottle of Johnny Walker.

Turns out, on this particular night the restaurant was hosting a friends and family Chinese New Year feast of epic proportions after the restaurant closed (11p).

Being the last guests in the restaurant, and obviously geeking out about the Chinese New Year food, they kindly invited us to join … we didn’t, and in hindsight, wish we did.

Still, this sit-down dinner for two totaled just $42.30 … also known in New York City as cheap.

Hunan Delight, a Chinese restaurant, and Matsuya Sushi, Japanese cuisine, share 1467 York Avenue, at 78th Street, 212-628-8161

*One rainy day, I’d love to really study and dissect the menus, to suss out any unintended fusion that’s happening.

Bay Scallop Carpaccio, Beer and Pretzel Caramels and Chicken-Fried Chicken Livers (aka the “Chelsea Hunt Recap” Post)

In the world of the BLD Project, dinner sometimes begins with a long, vacant stare into the fridge (cue lonely Western sounds).

Beth (2009), by Alex Prager, courtesy Yancey Richardson Gallery

Other times, dinner begins with a wintery, coat-encumbered embrace, at the conclusion of which a smiling bartender asks, “Would you like anything to drink?” … and hours suddenly disappear.

Then there are those nights when dinner is a hunt — a roving progression that is partially preconceived but inevitably involves detours, disappointments and discoveries.

There is no nutritional rhyme or reason; a hunt is not for the faint of stomach (or liver). On this last one, in Chelsea, we killed it:

Target no. 1: Yancey Richardson Gallery. I was interviewing the (lovely) photographer, Alex Prager, within 48 hours for this Q&A for Art in America magazine and needed to see these luminous beauties in person. Check.

Detour: En route to the next target, we were sidelined by Cookshop (cue screeching breaks) — it was the Nantucket Bay scallop carpaccio ($15) that captivated us.

As always, the chef was interested in the process — bay scallops are so small and delicate, to make a classic carpaccio would be intense. “I’ve got to see this,” he said. Mee tooo.

We were imagining something small but towering. Instead, the carpaccio was presented on a long, rectangular plate, rough-chopped pieces of the sweet bivalve accompanied by various dibbs and dabbs including grapefruit segments, diced black olives, shaved jalapeno slices, microgreens, radish, lime juice and olive oil.

The result was at once fresh, tart, sweet, but with a touch of heat; in short, delicious. More cerviche than carpaccio … letting that one slide.

“Shit. I think the market’s going to close.” We snapped out of the reverie of our perch at Cookshop’s bar. Back on task.

Target no. 2: Chelsea Market. In our sights, two of the market’s new tenants, Dickson Farmstand Meats, which locally sources its meat and butchers everything in house, and Lucy’s Whey, a cheese shop exclusively selling American artisanal cheeses.

As expected, both are excellent sources for first-quality, if pricey, delectables — Dickson’s entry-level meat, ground hamburger, goes for $7/lb., and many of Lucy’s cheeses have price tags upwards of $20/lb.

Discovery: That basket of simple, wax paper-wrapped caramels, beer and pretzel caramels ($1 ea.), from LiddAbit Sweets. To add the crunch and salt of a pretzel, and the hoppy-sweetness of beer, to that rich, caramel base? Brilliance.

Target no. 3: Tipsy Parson, for induction to the world of, yes, chicken-fried chicken livers ($12). (All in the name of research — the story came out today in amNY.)

I hear that liver is an acquired taste, and trying the dark, dense organ meat first alone, I can certify that I’m not there yet.

The liver is infinitely lightened when smeared onto a bit of the toasted rosemary bread and piling on the accompaniments — a sweet, green tomato relish, crispy fried batter bits, microgreens.

The cozy bar area — its shelves filled with tea sets, worn books and other bric-a-brac — invites lingering, and we did, over cocktails, the chicken fried chicken livers and the spread trio ($12) of pimento spread, black-eyed peas, ham salad and flakey, housemade crackers. It’s a bargain on the bar snacks menu … but then, I’m a sucker for finger food with some assembly required.

Whew. Getting tired or tipsy, probably both.

Target no. 4: Basis Foods. On the way to $2 PBRs — a 14th Street secret that’s not mine to reveal — we stopped to check on the progress of this new farm-to-market concept. Based on glimpses of a dark, entirely unfinished interior behind papered windows — this market’s got a ways to go yet. Check back in a few weeks.

The Portland, ME Edition: So Cheap, So Good (aka the “First Impressions” Post)

This is Portland: Home to just more than 60,000 residents, Maine’s largest city is the same size as the coastal San Diego County town where I grew up — when I left it 10 years ago. And we called that a suburb.

Salty and seafaring, and at the same time off-hand-ish bohemian, Portland is an amiable mix of “Mainers” who are in agreement about a few things: Tattoos (everyone’s got one). Excellent beer, at ridiculously low PPP (price per pint). Food that is impressively sustainable and local, without really trying (Earth happy and recession-friendly).

What a great food culture. When I left Portland I cried, just a little bit. Here’s just a few reasons why:

Gnocchi for breakfast? Yes, please! The lightly-browned, pillow-y potato packets are a brilliant alternative to the usual, often oily, previously-frozen-then-fried breakfast potatoes (e.g. hash browns or home fries).

At the Front Room, Chef Harding Smith’s neighborhood spot in the East End, my order of breakfast gnocchi shared the plate with sautéed spinach, thick-cut strips of the house’s “amazing bacon”* and two poached eggs — all of which was a little too generously doused in a citrus-y hollandaise sauce. Next time I’d probably order the sauce on the side, so as to moderate the application. Still, total decadence for a mere $8.

Working fish market! Uneven, wet and slippery floors! I know I’m giving myself away here, but I thoroughly enjoyed the sights and smells inside the Harbor Fish Market in the Old Port, just one example of a seafood vendor that does brisk wholesale business and is also open to the public.

Maine oysters ($1.19 ea.), steamer clams ($2.69/lb), live lobsters starting at $3.99/lb., and on, and on: I was heartened to discover that seafood isn’t just a New England export, it’s a way of life. On a whim I picked up an 8 oz. container of fresh crabmeat ($10), packaged by Wood’s Seafood of Bucksport, ME. So sweet and succulent, the crabmeat ended up the centerpiece of dinner for three a little later…

Really good, cheap beer: The cost of a pint of pretty much tops out at $4 at (the somewhat misleadingly-named) $3 Dewey’s, which has 36 beers on draft, mostly regional microbrews, including 7-10 seasonally-rotating taps. I was more than pleased with my choice of: Geary’s Summer Ale, Shipyard Export and an Allagash White (a classic). The free popcorn’s not a bad gig, either — buttery, salty and fresh-popped (I saw it), I polished off a couple of baskets’ worth all by myself. (Just don’t look too closely at the flavor-crusted exterior of the popping pan.)

*Being editor-types, my friend and I picked up on the fact that the B.L.T. sandwich description lists “amazing bacon” an ingredient. We were dubious of this so-called “amazing” bacon, that is, until a side of bacon arrived. Four beautifully-cured, thick-cut, not-too-fatty strips of bacon … price? $2. It’s amazing, I’ll vouch for it.

Thursday: $10 All-You-Can-Eat Craw Bar (aka the “Bondi Road Sauce Conspiracy” Post)

14 oysters (raw, on the half shell)
20 shrimps
5 baked oysters, topped with diced bacon and some sort of Worcestershire sauce
2/3rds of a side of french fries
tap water

—–
$15 (including tax and tip)

If I had to guesstimate the volume of food I ate at Bondi Road‘s unbelievable Thursday “Craw Bar” night in the Lower East Side, that’s the list, more or less — and being an oyster newbie I was one of the lighter eaters.

With a little encouragement — along the lines of, ”Could we get some more shrimp?” and, “Could we put in an order for those baked oysters?” — the kitchen certainly wasn’t stingy on the mains. Each time, the oyster tray came back stacked heavier, and so did the shrimp. (There were five of us making this our dinner, after all.)

Some of my friends were taking advantage of Bondi Road’s (in)famous drink special — $20 all-you-can-drink for 2 hours — and all in all, food and booze flowing, we were poised for success.

But then, there was a hiccup. Intentionally or otherwise, Bondi Road on this night was unbelievably stingy with their sauce. Cocktail sauce, fresh horseradish, ketchup (which never came)  … it became such a joke at the table that we started speculating conspiracy-theory style about the stinginess with the sauce.

Theory no. 1: This was the restaurant’s all-you-can-eat exit strategy: Serve them huge platters of seafood with the puniest portions of sauce imaginable, ignore their requests for more until they are infuriated and leave.

Theory #2: The sauce that’s served with the shrimp (of which we got two tiny, half-filled containers no matter whether there were a dozen shrimp or 20 shrimp in the bowl) is imported from Australia, which justifies the rationing.

(In actuality, we’re pretty sure it was just cocktail sauce whipped with mayonnaise for a creamier texture, dolled out into these disposable condiment cups during prep hours earlier — which only deepens the mystery of why the server couldn’t just grab a couple of extras from the kitchen in less time than it took us to finish the shrimp, reluctantly, anyway …)

The conclusion: Still a killer deal, the quality’s decent (for the price, spectacular). Bring your own sauce — or be prepared to eat some seafood in the buff.

TIP: Go early. The five of us were seated immediately and served quickly at 6:45pm, and the restaurant had a line out the door by the time we left. Plus, the 2-hour drink special makes for an excellent kick-off to a Thursday night out.

BLD Minnesota Edition: Impromptu Appetizer Party, Target Superstore-Style

If you live in the heart of New York City, and find yourself in the vicinity of an all-in-one megastore, like the Super Targets that populate the Twin Cities, you will make a pilgrimage there.

And you will marvel at the convenience of being able to buy your milk, freezer waffles, birthday cards, DVDs, toothpaste — as well as a cheap, fashionable handbag from some designer’s collaborative collection — all in the same place. Reverence-worthy indeed.

While I was scouting out travel-sized Dr. Bronner’s liquid soaps, the $4.95 DVD rack and more, my aunt basically sourced the entire impromptu appetizer party, which happened a little later at Grandpa’s house, from Super Target’s grocery section (which legitimately could be a stand-alone, fully-stocked grocery store).

On the Menu:

Pita chips and humus.
Shrimps and cocktail sauce, frozen/thawed.

Meatballs and hot dogs in barbecue sauce, warmed on the stove (could have just as easily been in a Crock-Pot).
Bite-sized vegetables and ranch dip, prepackaged.

No fancy cheeses (although I do love ‘em), no Chinatown-sourced delectables (although I love those, too), no ordering involved (or cooking really, either) — just simple food of the sort that people can gather around and share, along with the latest family news.

Living in New York, you forget how the rest of the country eats. That’s okay, I think, but this is quite alright, too.

Dinner: Around the World and Ya Ya Ya Salad, Redux

Luscious salmon from the Lobster Place in Chelsea Market, glistening in your own fish oils (and maybe a little bit of olive oil) after a quick pan-fry, plated on top of a bed of lettuce, sprouts, pears and… . Hmm, wait a minute. What are those krinkly things? (And didn’t we sort of have this last night?)

Well, sort of. Both last night’s salad and tonight’s salad represent but two of an infinite number of salad compositions, if we keep going in this vein, with goods from various parts of the world (and ya ya ya). Last night it was Australia, England, Greece. Tonight it’s:

— Asia: Those crinkly, crenulated bits are oyster mushrooms, one of a half-dozen worthy mushroom varieties spotted at the Chelsea Market recently. (I’m guessing that they’re also not half-bad for you, in that oil-rich, Omega 3 sort of way.)

— Pears.

— Salmon. Pac Northwest, I’d guess. Or maybe somewhere more local Northern Atlantic. Let’s chalk it up as U.S.-adjacent. (speculation)

— Nicoise olives. Oh so very French.

I love this game.

Sunday: …. and What a Seafood Feast it Was

A cheese and salumi plate from Murray’s Cheese Shop; four courses of prawns each prepped in marinades made from scratch; frog’s legs; salad; one giant fish, cooked whole; and many bottles of wine — I love having friends who love to cook as much as I love to eat.

What was the occasion? Over the last few days prior, a crew of friends and a couple of family relations arrived in the city from various places overseas, the closest being London and the furthest being Australia.

On top of that, Pride Week was wrapping up with a parade and the rooftop we were on offered brilliant views of the streets below, which were alive with revelers, the cityscape, the sunset and, later, Pride-themed fireworks over the Hudson River. 

I got to be the shopper’s aide the day prior on the trip to Chinatown’s fish markets, where I learned that the key to shopping at the various seafood markets is to first do a lap, scope out all the goods, and then on lap no. 2, buy the best. Just like markets everywhere, quality and quantity varies on a daily basis. 

That gorgeous, orange-y fish top center became the piece de la resistance of the meal: It was baked whole, after being stuffed and rubbed with oil, lemon juice, fresh ginger, basil, green onions and fresh hot peppers. We thought it was a red snapper, but it didn’t quite cook up like a snapper, said the chef. Or was it the hugeness? (The fish weighed in at 4 lbs.) Needless, it was tasty.  

Unfortunately, I didn’t get pictures of all the prawn courses, but we started with the ones on the left, which were marinated in a fresh and spicy lemon-ginger-herb mix, and ended with the ones on the right, which were cooked in a hoisin-style sauce with water chestnuts and diced Chinese sausages. (Which were my favorite.)

You cook before eating, right?”  the market clerk asked us as he was heaping sausages into a plastic bag. (Generally a good rule of thumb to follow with Chinatown goods.)

… And then there are these little beauties. The frog’s legs were an impulse purchase — found at the same market were we saw this hulking alligator’s leg for sale,$3.99 a pound — and I am so glad we went for it. I’ve had frog legs before, but everything was buried under deep-fried batter. 

                                 A first attempt at pan-frying the legs turned out to be too much for the delicate meat; the legs fell apart under the duress of the high heat and being tossed in the pan. We simply baked them instead, and they turned out brilliantly. I’ve had nothing like them before. In texture, they’re as light as fish meat and the to eat them is not unlike eating chicken wings, where one part side of the joint is heavier on meat than the other, and you run into the occasional vein or tendon. 

Verdict: I’d eat it all again tomorrow, but I’m not sure when we’ll have that exact same intersection of special occasions again, if ever. It was just lovely how everything worked out.