The First Warm Day

I made it all the way to Sunset Park and the Greenwood Cemetery.  Before I climbed the hill, rumored to be the highest point in Brooklyn, I stopped by the legendary banh mi joint, Ba Xuyen for a sandwich and a bubble tea.  My honeydew bubble tea might have been a tad on the sweet side (coconut is my favorite, but they didn't have it), but the sandwich outright ruled.  Ba Xuyen offers eight different types of banh mi, ranging from traditional to wacky (you couldn't pay me to eat the sardine version).  We ordered the meatball banh mi, basically a smart and cheese-less take on the meatball sub.  A baguette housed tender meatballs, pickled cucumber/carrot/daikon, fresh cilantro, fish sauce, and cilantro. It was spicy.  It was salty.  It was sweet.  It was crunchy.  It was over way too fast.  

Having had our fill of tombstones, we walked to Park Slope, back to the neighborhood I lived in as a very little girl.  Once there, we stopped at the legendary, 30-year-old Smiling Pizza on 7th Avenue for a slice.  Mine hadn't been reheated enough, but otherwise demonstrated what a perfect New York slice is: crispy but still pliable, thin-crusted, yummy.  

Eventually, I found myself back in Astoria, where I ordered delivery from the new 30th Avenue chicken joint, appropriately named Chicken Shack.  Chicken wings were crispy, though not slathered in hot sauce the way I like them (it came on the side).  Pork ribs were as perfect as they get for delivery.  They were also spicy.  And pretty darn cheap. 

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Ba Xuyen

4222 8th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11232

718.633.6601

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Smiling Pizza Restaurant

323 7th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.788.2137

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Chicken Shack

3502 30th Avenue

Astoria, NY 11103

718.721.3035

Prehistoric Thursday

I weathered a one-and-a-half-hour wait for bar-b-cue last night.  This isn't the longest I've ever waited for food; once, at The Spotted Pig, I stood around for four hours, consuming more than my share of beer by the pint, in an attempt to experience Fergus Henderson's cuisine first-hand.  By the time I sat, I was a little too drunk to appreciate fully the organ meat extravaganza that was Henderson's cooking.  

So maybe the wait wasn't the worst, though it wasn't particularly pleasant.  One redeeming aspect was that Dinosaur Bar-B-Cue, an import from Syracuse that opened in 2004 on 131st Street, serves rich and foamy Sprecher's root beer on tap, perfect for passing the hours. 

When we finally arrived at our table, we shouted orders at our poor waitress in under ten seconds.  Chicken wings were spicy and sweet and undeniably meaty, served with celery sticks and a blue cheese dressing.  While they would never satisfy a Buffalo wing craving, itself its own beast, the wings did chicken justice.  Fried green tomatoes came sheathed in a light breading and served with fresh grated parmesan and a remoulade for dipping.  Peel and eat shrimp were cajun inflected, medium-sized, and cold, avoiding the finger burning too often associated with the dish.  

And then there was the meat.  For my part, I ordered all three house specialties, the trifecta of Texas brisket, pork shoulder (generally referred to as pork butt), and ribs.  Ribs were dry rubbed first and then glazed with sauce and had ample flavor.  Pork butt was fatty and delicious, though it required an additional serving of sauce for flavor.  Brisket, served with pickled jalapenos, was almost burnt on those coveted edges. 

Macaroni and cheese arrived creamy and browned on top, smelling of paprika.  An iceburg wedge salad with blue cheese hit all the familiar steakhouse notes.  Baked BBQ beans were a tad watery for my taste, but still sweet and savory and full of pork.  Fried rice reminded me of Chinese takeout, in a good way.  

Then, of course, came the requisite southern dessert, banana pudding.  Vanilla pudding, fresh bananas, and canned whipped cream sat beneath one large, delicate sugar cookie.  Diets, take leave.  This ain't the place for calorie-counting.  

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Dinosaur  Bar-B-Cue

646 W. 131st Street

New York, NY 10027

212.694.1777

They're Not Going To Go All The Way

The Giants, that is. Is it criminal to expect a repeat performance in the game defined by the adage "Any Given Sunday"? Would it have been so completely bonkers to watch Eli Manning manning it up (pun intended) against the Eagles to finish what has certainly been an impressive season?

While the Giants were busy making their mistakes yesterday afternoon (stop passing up the middle already!), I was busy making some mistakes of my own. It might actually be impossible to watch American football in the company of food that is not fried, beige, and generally unhealthy. And any teetotaler will tell you that football season is the one exception to the "don't drink on Sundays" rule.

I ended up at a sports bar in Astoria. I had one criteria when choosing this particular bar: Buffalo wings. My friend, more moved by the game than by the game food, figured that Broadway Station, a pub located at the Broadway stop on the N train, would be big enough to guarantee a seat during a high-octane hometown game.

We did get a seat and we did get wings. They were small (strike one), breaded (strike two), and not nearly spicy enough (yerrrrrrrr out). Baby back ribs met with more success, fatty beef ribs falling off the bone and lacquered with sticky sweet BBQ sauce. The ribs came with vinegary cole slaw festooned with mustard seeds.

To continue my artery-clogging afternoon, I supplemented our meaty snacks with a plate of onion rings (bread battered, not the beer battered variety) and a Caesar salad. The lettuce itself was pretty unremarkable grocery store greenage, but the dressing was thick, tangy, and surely made with plenty of mayonnaise.

I washed this down with a Magic Hat No. 9--apricot-flavored hippie beer from Vermont--a Diet Coke, and a glass of water, because variety is the spice of life.

And by the way, the Giant's loss did not provoke better eating habits in the evening; for dinner, we watched 24 and ate Toll House cookies (from the tube) and a very mediocre Domino's pizza. This is why I love my country: none of the foods we invented will ever help perpetuate a long or healthy existence.

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Broadway Station
3009 Broadway
Astoria, NY 11106
718.545.5869