Just Ducky

I'm not a big fan of repeated experiences (at least in terms of the execution of this blog), but my Monday night dinner deserves mention, even if I just wrote about dim sum haven Pacificana last week. We went back for the Peking Duck, which we had eyed on a neighbor's table that night that we ended up with the heavenly clams.

First things first. I started with a mediocre hot and sour soup that I would never order again. Strike one. But the vegetable dumplings that followed--wrapped in a translucent dough and stuffed with all sorts of chewable veggies, like mushrooms and water chestnuts--made up for the minor misstep. If these dumplings are any indication of the dim sum experience at Pacificana, it's one I wouldn't want to miss out on. We also ordered a plate of bone-in spare-ribs. They were fatty and luscious and salty and sweet and there were a lot of them for $6.

And then there was the duck.

You can order a half duck--which we did--for $14.95, or a whole duck for $28.95. A whole duck would have garnered way too many wasted leftovers. Our lacquered beauty came to the table in one piece. Our waiter sliced and diced, taking large squares of skin and dipping them in hoisin sauce before placing them on pillowy buns. Next came dark meat, followed by cucumber spears and more sauce. We each had three buns and the waiter disappeared and then returned from the kitchen with the rest of our carved bird, most of which we ate with our fingers.

This is not your traditional American duck-on-withered-pancake guy. No way. It's so much better. And at under $15 a pop, it's a stone's throw away from cheap eats.

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Pacificana

813 55th Street

Brooklyn, NY 11220

718.871.2880

Gone Fishin'

I did have a few minor restaurant dalliances this week, which I won't get too far into, since this post is primarily about cooking and not dining. Lunch with a friend (and on a friend) at Mary's Fish Camp yielded a perfectly sufficient lobster roll, though the hot dog bun could have used a bit more butter. It was literally bursting at the seams with lobster, certainly not something a New Englander complains about. Also, I finally found steamers in New York. Real steamers. Fragile and white-shelled steamer clams that need the sand washed off before you dip the suckers in butter. The portion was too small, but I'll live. I'll likely take another trip to Mary's in the future for a whole fish (they had several varieties, both roasted and flash fried). Lobster roll is one of those things you order when someone else is footing the bill.

Yesterday, I decided to tackle a fear of my own and prepare a whole fish at my house. I've never done this before and I disagreed with a lot of the recipes I read. I didn't want to cook en papillote, because I wanted a crispy skin on the fish. I also didn't want to blast it at 400 degrees because I had chosen fennel, a thick and fibrous vegetable, as one of the stuffing elements. I decided on a 350 medium-slow roast and a finish under the broiler.

One of the great things about living in Astoria is the fresh fish markets. I asked for a whole red snapper and was shown several. I settled on a 2lb fish (generally a pound lighter after de-boning) and asked the monger to clean it for me (gutting and de-scaling, basically). The same red snapper that went for $5.99/lb went for a whopping $14.99/lb at the fish market at Grand Central. Astoria is chef-friendly; Manhattan is not. Back home, I slit the skin so it wouldn't rip and stuffed it with things I had in the fridge: garlic, thyme, the fennel, nicoise olives, halved grape tomatoes, salt, pepper, and olive oil. The remaining items I placed around the fish in a baking dish. Then I let the whole thing rest in the refrigerator for a few hours.

I cut red bliss potatoes in half and covered them with thyme, salt, pepper, garlic, and olive oil in a separate baking dish. These went into the 350 degree oven twenty minutes before the fish. Once the fish went in, it was only twenty or so more minutes until the whole lot was ready for the broiler (larger fish obviously take longer; we were basically waiting on the fennel). I finished the fish off with some amontillado before browning it to deglaze the pan. The broiler browned the fish and potatoes, which were completely up to my high standards.

This fish was among the most aromatic and freshest I've had in a long time. We drank mint lemon-limeade with it, our own creation, made from a dozen lemons, a few limes, and a simple syrup made from cane sugar. My regret is that the mint turned brown. In the future, I might try blanching the mint first to preserve its color.

But all in all, this was a resounding (and resoundingly inexpensive) success.

Asian Sundays

According to former-Times-writer/current-cookbook-writer/DavidChang-confidant/hippie-dippy-foodie/brother-of-famed-cocktail-maestro-Jim Meehan Peter Meehan, a meal at Pacificana, in Sunset Park, is best enjoyed with the dim sum throngs on weekend mornings.  It isn't to say that Pacificana doesn't have anything to offer beyond congee and dumplings, but evidently the cart game is their specialty.  Oh, that and the $30/lb. king crab, prepared in a 4-course meal, dinner only.  Average weight of a king crab: 7 lbs.  

Anyway, obviously it wasn't a king crab kind of night, and we missed the boat on dim sum.  That didn't keep us from the cavernous, banquet hall-style Pacifica, where we were the only white people in a sparsely seated dining room.  Like most dim sum restaurants, Pacifica presents a regal touch: chandeliers, white linen, servers in tuxedos, non-disposable chopsticks, bright red walls.  I could imagine a bustling brunch somewhat resembling a wedding. 

We started with small cups of wonton soup.  The wontons were delicately wrapped and full of all kinds of hidden gems, like chopped shrimp.  The broth tasted like it came from actual chickens and the bok choy floating therein gave the soup crunch.  To satisfy the health nut in me, I ordered a plate of sauteed mixed vegetables: broccoli, green peppers, snow peas, bamboo shoots, cucumber, and celery.  They were tossed in some kind of delicate salty white sauce, not the gooey glop that so often accompanies mediocre Chinese.  Next up, the star of the evening: manila clams in a brown sauce sizzling on their hot plate atop tiny bundles of rice noodles.  The noodles had literally been bound unto themselves. When I bit into these hot packages, they pulled back against my teeth, the perfect bounce for a noodle.  The clams slipped easily from their shells and we dragged them through the brown sauce, some amalgamation of garlic and onions and ginger and, well, something brown. 

For dessert, the Asians around us received complimentary bowls of something black and beany.  Maybe we reeked of our Americanness, as no such bowls arrived at our places.  Instead, cubes of coconut jello jiggled their way to our seats.  I didn't complain. 

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Pacificana

813 55th Street

Brooklyn, NY 11220

718.871.2880

Bay What?

I think the last--and possibly only--time that I visited Bay Ridge was in the late 1980s when my parents went to pick up their Volvo station wagon at the Bay Ridge Volvo dealership.  Pretty much the only details I knew about Bay Ridge were: 1. There was a Volvo dealership there, 2. It was farther into Brooklyn than Park Slope, and 3. My friend Peter lived there and drove to the train station in Sunset Park in the mornings because it was too dang far from the City.  

But I spend a lot of time in Brooklyn and I've learned that you can save more than a few pennies eating in the boroughs instead of eating on the island.  Last night was a terrific case in point.  A google search for "steak" led us to Austin's Steak House in Bay Ridge.  Decor is Sopranos-inspired.  Maitre'd might actually work for the mafia.  More than a few male patrons were wearing loafers without socks.  The woman sitting by herself at the bar in high high heels and a lot of lycra is, my date assures me, a prostitute.  Not that I really care.  A man in his 60s singing misquoted pop songs floats around the dining room with a microphone "delighting" guests.  Or whatever you want to call it.  I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. 

We skipped appetizers, the traditional steakhouse platitudes: shrimp cocktail, caesar salad, crab cakes.  In retrospect, we could have skipped sides, too; our skinny asparagus with browned garlic came undersalted and mashed potatoes were too watery in consistency.  But oh, the steak.  I can't believe I'm writing this, but I'm pretty sure that's the best steak I've ever eaten in New York. 

It was a cowboy steak, otherwise known as a rib-eye.  It came on the bone, an inch-plus thick.  It had the black crust that only comes with super high heat and a butter glaze at the end of cooking.  It was a little too salty (believe it or not), but the meat itself had the dense funk of honest-to-goodness dry aging.  It was just as black-and-blue as I'd ordered it, with a perfect deckle at the top of the rib.  What can I say? I'd put that baby up against a Luger porterhouse any day of the week.  Even my date's filet mignon (ugh), definitely not my cup of tea, tasted remarkably good.  

Austin's is not a whole-package experience.  If you want that, go to BLT Prime, or another trendy steakhouse that serves overpriced and admittedly delicious side dishes and desserts (Austin's sources their desserts from elsewhere and we didn't even bother trying them).  But if you truly want the best rib-eye in New York, I think I've found it.  Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are. 

*

Austin's Steak House

8915 5th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11209

718.439.5000

Living On Dimes

That should be my new motto, since I'm pretty broke. But a girl still has to eat.  On Sunday night, I was craving Chinese, and there's no better neighborhood for an MSG-lover than Sunset Park.  I required only that our restaurant accepted credit cards and that our menus arrived in English, so a brief menupages search sent us towards Park Asia, a respectably clean and bustling haunt past the stretch of Chinese markets on 8th Avenue.  Once inside, we noticed not only how white we were (a mark of authenticity when shopping for ethnic food), but also how large all the parties were.  Most of the tables were six- and seven-tops, communal sharing made easier by the ubiquitous lazy Susan. 

We ordered three things, assisted by bold pictures affixed to our menus.  Steamed pork dumplings were heavy and nondescript.  They did not bode well for the meal to follow.  But oh, how wrong we were!  House special fried chicken was a half of a chicken with brown lacquered skin butchered into manageable pieces.  Sure, there were some bones to negotiate, but the meat itself was moist, only outdone by the transcendent skin.  The experience made us wish we had opted for Peking Duck--this is the place to do it.  And we'll be back for that. 

Pan fried noodles neither surprised nor disappointed.  The noodles were crispy by turns and gummy by others (a quality I happen to enjoy) and the sauce possessed the requisite amount of corn starch implemented in most Chinese restaurants. But, oh that chicken!  All I could think was: Americans eat way too much shitty chicken.

By Wednesday I was feeling like I'd neglected the cheap and interesting restaurants of my own neighborhood, Astoria.  So we moseyed down 30th Avenue to Thai Pavilion, where, this time, the dumplings were a resounding success.  Vegetable dumplings came fried, texturally perfect, and with the excellent condiment of a thick soy-sweet chili sauce.  Pad thai did its job but my prawns were more impressive, served in a spicy basil sauce with mushrooms, onions, and green peppers.  For dessert, we got a cheap sampler plate, but the delicate litchi ice-cream is the only dessert worth mentioning.  They should serve it in cones on street corners. 

Yesterday, I had another Astoria adventure on my way back from the Rockaways.  You would never expect life-changing sandwiches to come from a virtually unmarked deli on 23rd Avenue in Astoria.  Sal, Kris, and Charlie's Deli doesn't even have a storefront sign; a piece of white paper announces their identity, below which states, "The Sandwich Kings of Astoria."  They were right.  I passed on "the bomb," a sandwich that includes all available cheeses, proscuitto, ham, mortadella, sopressata, and everything else besides the kitchen sink.  It seemed a little crazy for my taste, so I settled for a proscuitto hero: mayonnaise, hot and sweet peppers, pickles, proscuitto (they must have put on a full pound), lettuce, tomato, and onion.  The sandwich was so large I nearly had to dislocate my jaw to get it down.  But the semolina bread was perfectly crunchy, even after all those wet toppings.  And the sandwich's other half is waiting for me to finish my morning run, perhaps the most exciting detail of all. 

*

Park Asia

801 66th Street

Brooklyn, NY 11220

718.833.1688

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Thai Pavilion

3710 30th Avenue

Astoria, NY 11103

718.777.5546

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Sal, Kris, and Charlie's Deli

3312 23rd Avenue

Astoria, NY 11105

718.278.9240

The 2.5 Hour Wait

I understand that this is a recession and that people don't want to spend a lot on food.  I get it.  And I understand how "cool" it is to know about the "best pizza in Brooklyn."  Fine, whatever.  But here's what I don't get: the streets of Carroll Gardens are completely abandoned, since everyone's left for the holiday weekend.  Why, then, is the woman at Lucali quoting a 2.5 hour wait at 6:15 the night before the Fourth of July?

Because, dear readers, it is now "cool" to spend $24 on an admittedly very good pizza (my dining companion last night: "this is as good as it gets.").  Yes, the pizza is delicious, thin, larger than the pies at Roberta's or Franny's or Co.  But toppings--even basil--cost extra.  And they're cash only.  And then there's the wait. 

We had been at Clover Club first for some swizzles and pate (very good stuff, fyi), because Lucali isn't supposed to open until 6:30.  Well, that was a flat-out lie.  Lucali takes phone reservations and seats VIPs willy-nilly anyway.  You can bet your bottom dollar Jay-Z ain't waiting three hours for a table.  No way, no how.  When we rolled up at 6:15, the dining room was full and there was already a 2.5 hour wait.  I put my name on the list and gave the frustrated host my phone number and then ambled over to Prime Meats for a soft pretzel and some rum punch, served from a scalloped crystal punch bowl in tiny handled punch cups.  The pretzel came with an addictive honey mustard.  I'm told the other snacks are equally delicious.  Next time.  

I did get to eat at Lucali, but by then I was tired and a little woozy with punch.  Our large pie was sufficiently crunchy but the service was worse than bad.  A redeeming feature of Lucali is that you bring your own wine, so you won't blow your budget on crappy Chianti.  And the atmosphere--candle-lit, aromatic, and centered around the guy stretching dough and shaving buffala mozzarella in the back--is more than pleasant.  You could eat pizzas here all day, if they'd let you (and they wouldn't; once the table is finally yours, it's order in, patrons out).  

The best bet for a Lucali pie is takeout--you can pick up your pie 30 minutes after order time, which seems like the time-saver of the century.  And I guess it beats Grimaldi's, which we drove past and which boasted a line stretching three or four city blocks.  All in the name of good pizza.  Maybe that's the necessary sacrifice we make to look cool in these empty-wallet days of 2009.  

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Clover Club

210 Smith Street

Brooklyn, NY 11201

718.855.7939

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Prime Meats

465 Court Street

Brooklyn, NY 11231

718.254.0327

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Lucali

575 Henry Street

Brooklyn, NY 11231

718.858.4086

More Carbs

Believe it or not, the nutritionist I saw yesterday actually told me I was eating too few carbs.  I know this seems incredible, given my penchant for pizza, but the truth is my days revolve around veggies and lean protein.  Dr. Atkins scared the bejeesus out of all of us.  

To remedy my carbohydrate drought, I went for white flour (not the nutritionist's suggestion, I assure you) at Al Di La, the Park Slope restaurant that seems always to have a line snaking around the corner down Fifth Avenue.  The restaurant and wine bar down the block (on Carroll Street, in case you were wondering) both serve the same menu.  We ate at the wine bar's bar because, well, we weren't in the mood to wait long. 

A beef carpaccio was made with high-quality beef and came topped with shaved parmesan and whole anchovies.  I'm not the biggest anchovy fan in the world, so I let my dining partner eat them while I stuck to the dish's other adornment, capers.  Mussels were served in a rich and tomatoey broth, but the best part of the dish was a crusty piece of bread snuck beneath bivalves, absorbing all of the elements a nutritionist would say are better left uneaten.  Oh, well. 

For my fellow diner, a rich and creamy tagliatelle with ragu.  It tasted kind of Hamburger Helper-ish, but in a good way.  My spaghetti with clams (finally!) did not disappoint.  The large and briny Manilas were judiciously scattered and I didn't find even one empty shell.  The pasta itself was al dente and swimming in oil and chili flakes.  I returned my plate to the bartender with a half cup of pasta remaining.  "You left the pasta," he said.  "You know, that stuff at the end really is the most unhealthy part.  But it's also the tastiest."  Maybe so, but after all that white flour I didn't really need a full cup of oil.  

And we passed on dessert, but next time I would likely order any of the cheese-based delights on the small menu. 

*

Al Di La

248 5th Avenue 

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.783.4565

I Can't Get Enough

Pizza.  That's right: pizza.  I wouldn't want to miss paying my respects to the establishments I visited during my sojourn upstate earlier this week.  On Wednesday night, I dined at Schlesinger's, the kind of steakhouse that reminds me of what steakhouses were like when I was younger.  A shared French onion soup was sufficiently cheesy and bready and terribly unhealthy.  A Ball canning jar on our table housed over a dozen tiny half-sour pickles. My complimentary salad was large, crunchy, and judiciously dressed.  And my ribeye, 20 ounces without a bone and a good inch-plus thick, came with the requisite grill marks and deckle fat.  What it didn't come with was the New York City price tag (this baby only cost a paltry $24).

The next afternoon, it was more meat, this time at Richard's Dairy Shed, where I enjoyed a burger on a plain roll with lettuce, tomato, onion, ketchup, and mayo.  It would have been better with pickles, but it was fresh and hot and wrapped in wax paper.  In my hands, it didn't last long.

For an evening snack, we visited Wildfire Grill in downtown Montgomery.  Somewhat rubbery calamari and decent Southwest "wontons" (egg roll wrappers filled with chicken, cheese, corn, and black beans) gave way to sublime tail-on shrimp wrapped in crisp bacon and roasted.  It was a shame to see so few on the plate. 

But back in the city, it was pizza time.  We headed to Franny's in Park Slope, where I had heard the pizzas were too good to keep secret.  Marinated pickling cucumbers came with delicate and perfect buffalo ricotta and sliced red onions.  Sugar snap peas, blanched and served cold, had been dressed with a mint-infused oil and lemon juice and topped with fresh cracked pepper.  They were highly addictive.  A piece of crostini with ramp butter and thin strips of pancetta tasted like the best garlic bread I have ever eaten.  

So the pizzas?  They were okay.  We ordered a pie and a pasta.  The Franny's go-to is the clam pie, but I ate a clam pie two weeks ago at Tarry Lodge and was feeling a tomato base.  So we had pizza with buffalo mozzarella and sausage and it was crispy and black at the edges and that was lovely.  But the pizza's center was soggy and didn't hold up to meager toppings.  I found myself a little disappointed. 

The pasta was tasty enough, peppered with sweet peas and chiffonades of salami.  The sauce was green, but less overtly vegetal than a basil pesto.  The spaghetti itself, cooked very al dente, picked up the sauce well.  It could have used a few more peas.

For dessert, we ate almond pound cake (impressively moist) with macerated tristar strawberries and a spoonful of whipped cream.  It was the perfect June dessert, even if the pizza wasn't all that. 

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Schlesinger's Steak House 

475 Temple Hill Road

New Windsor, NY 12553 

845.561.1762

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Richard's Dairy Shed

1103 State Route 17k

Montgomery, NY 12549

845.457.5112

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Wildfire Grill

74 Clinton Street

Montgomery, NY 12549

845.457.3770

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Franny's

295 Flatbush Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11217

718.230.0221

Brooklyn Round Up

I've been spending a lot of time in Park Slope/Sunset Park lately, which has given me the opportunity to taste what's going on in the other boroughs.  I'll make this short and sweet, since it would be impossible to give a lengthy overview of so many restaurants at once.  

I had a sub-standard banh mi at Sidecar, where the French fries are delicious (thin and McDonald's-style), but the sandwich lacks bite.  Not only was the thing way too big, but it was insufficiently pickled.  The pickle is everything when it comes to good banh mi.  I have it on good authority that the burger is worth the calories, but I didn't take that route.  

Beer Table in Park Slope offers a much more successful menu.  An arugula salad with pickled onions and shaved parmesan was just lemony enough without suffering from over acidification.  Sausages, though a tiny bit mealy, had a deep offal quality to them that even the most discerning foodie would not have been able to criticize.  They came with slightly boring but very buttery roasted potatoes.  The cheese plate, featuring Bayley Hazen Blue (a personal favorite), brandied cherry compote, and crusty bread was a tour de force.  Beers range from affordable (I had a Hitachino espresso stout) to not (what I really wanted was the Rochefort 10).  Belgians make the requisite appearances, as do obscure Italian brews.  If we'd been in more of a drinking spirit, we likely would have splurged on one of the many 750ml bottles.  

Tacos Nuevo, also in the Slope, impressed me more for their happy hour deal (two for one sticky-sweet margaritas) than the actual food, though I will admit that the chorizo-refried beans dip was addictive and clearly unhealthy.  My huarache, also made with chorizo, wasn't quite crunchy enough.  My dining companion said I should have ordered the tacos.  Maybe next time.  

Finally, my only expensive Brooklyn meal in the past week has been the least innovative.  Blue Ribbon Brasserie on 5th Avenue did have some excellent New Brunswick oysters, small and creamy and served with this cucumber/cilantro salsa that was good on its own.  They were also $3.50 apiece, which just seems absurd when you think about how small an oyster is.  We drank a very good bottle of 2007 Chateau Pradeaux Bandol rose with our pierogis (half fried, half steamed; order the steamed and save yourself the wasteful calories), which came with a sweet onion marmalade and lots of sour cream.  Barbecue ribs were the Blue Ribbon standard: very sticky and very sweet and very worth the trip.  Shrimp remoulade were fine.  They tasted like crabcake dipping sauce.  I wasn't impressed.  One of the night's specials had been a 40-ounce rib steak for two, and that would have been more satisfying, given the slightly enormous bill.  At least dinner wasn't on me.  

*

Sidecar Bar and Grill

560 5th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.369.0077

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Beer Table

427B 7th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.965.1196

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Tacos Nuevo Mexico

491 5th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.832.0050

*

Blue Ribbon Brasserie, Brooklyn

280 5th Avenue

Brooklyn, NY 11215

718.840.0404

Unveiled

My sister and I went to this bachelorette party last night for one of our cousins.  It was one of those parties that started late and included an even later dinner and when I picked her up at Grand Central, we were both hungry.  Since we had to be in the Union Square vicinity, and since it was a cold and rainy day, and since our last attempts at a meal at Ippudo had been thwarted by crowds, we decided to make it a ramen day.  

It's amazing that this place has a wait, even at 5:30 in the afternoon.  When we finally took a seat, it was closer to 6:00.  Salty-sweet chicken wings had that perfect, glossy, crunchy texture only acquired with hot oil and a substantial deep-fryer.  They came with sweet pickled cucumbers and carrots.  Ramen was, as always, a memorable experience.  I'll agree with Frank Bruni for once and say that the best dishes at Ippudo are the soups made with stewed pork bone broth.  The noodles are slim and not too chewy.  Our soups (the Modern this time around) also came with pieces of cabbage and Berkshire pork).  

We headed to the W to meet my cousin and her friends, where we played a bridal trivia game, drank Korbel with raspberries, and wore giant red-glowing plastic rings.  Then it was off to Alta, a tapas bar on 10th Street.  

My cousin is gluten-free, and Alta had a menu telling us which dishes we could order.  In a way, that made things easier, since there were so many choices on the menu.  I deferred my input.  Sometimes I'd rather sit back and not look at the menu.  Salty mussels came in deep cast-iron posts with plenty of residual broth.  Skewers of shrimp and chorizo were spicy and smoky.  Crab cakes came without panko, but as a result lost that textural contrast so important to a good cake.  Lamb and okra skewers were confusing; pieces of eggplant that looked like lamb were actually, well, eggplant.  The lamb itself was good enough, once we could locate it.  

Sea scallops eluded me (there were only three) and chicken wings with paprika didn't live up to our previous wings.  I couldn't eat a pretty beet salad that came studded with hazelnuts (I'm allergic), but I could eat perfect pounded duck breast wheels, stuffed with scallions and served over a foie gras emulsion.  Deviled eggs were just fine; the pork toast version Resto serves is better.  

Dinner wasn't expensive: 50 bucks per person and we covered the bachelorette.  But my sister and I got to thinking that if we hadn't eaten a mere few hours before, we would have probably found dinner a little anemic, or maybe I would have dipped a little deeper into the Oloroso Sherry pool.  

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Ippudo

65 4th Avenue

New York, NY 10003

212.388.0088

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Alta

64 W. 10th Street

New York, NY 10011

212.505.7777