New York Restaurants by Area – Page 26 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Ditch Witch

40 Deforest Road, by the East Deck Motel parking lot, Montauk, Long Island
no phone
less than $10 for one, with a drink, without tip
â™¥ â™¥

Do you have any money?, was all we heard from the guy inside the Ditch Witch wagon. I’m still not exactly sure why we thought that was funny, but at the time, we were eating our second meal of the day on the beach while locals and surfers alike walked up to the Ditch Witch to order. In that case, a young kid in board shorts came up and tried to buy something. He wasn’t given his order until he answered in the affirmative.

It was that kind of lackadaisical attitude that I liked about Ditch Witch and the Ditch Plains beach. The beach is an insider’s spot–you need a town parking permit or a temporary beach sticker to park. It was a Monday afternoon, so it wasn’t quite as busy as the weekend, but the vibe was more homey than listless.

We ordered the cold sesame noodle salad served with greens and tomatoes. It was simple, with the right amount of peanut butter flavor; bright and light at the same time. The tomato avocado basil sandwich was mellow without the vinaigrette, but the pressed bread made it extra crispy and held the ingredients together quite nicely. The Ditch Witch also has different iced teas. The Ab’s Brew, a black unsweetened tea with lemon was refreshing and not watery.

If I have to wake up everyday near or on the beach, the Ditch Witch could easily start my day right.

Townline BBQ

3593 Townline Road, Sagaponack, Long Island
631/537.2271
about $44 for two, with two beers, with tip
â™¥ â™¥

After spending three days on the beach in Montauk and eating fresh seafood and lobster rolls in neighboring restaurants, I was ready for some meat. I was in the backseat when we drove by Townline BBQ outside of East Hampton. I remember seeing the Grand Opening banners and thinking, I wonder what just opened there? The drivers in charge asked me where Townline BBQ was after I wrote down the address on our Long Island printout. We turned around and found out that the place that caught my eye was the barbeque place we were looking for. I knew then that I was meant to eat lunch at Townline BBQ before I head back to the city.

There are rules at Townline BBQ: you order from the counter, pay and get a beeper; pick a table and wait for your beeper to vibrate. When it does, you pick up your order from the counter. Considering my last barbeque experience in Harlem was a bust, I thought Townline was organized and well-executed. It didn’t stop with the service. Their Texas beef ribs were so good, I was using my hands not just to eat them, but also to pick from our tub of pickles and collard greens.

I don’t remember the last time I had beef ribs. Hill Country in Chelsea, which specializes in Texas-style barbeque, was out of them when I went during their first month. I also don’t remember ever having barbeque with meat as tight and stuck to the bone as Townline’s. I loved how dry it was; it didn’t have to rely on any thick sauce, although the available ones on the table were good. I picked on leftover meat from the big bones until no cartilage was left and I was licking my fingers by the time our meal was over. This was our third meal of the day and it wasn’t even 5pm.

We ordered a pulled pork plate but instead got a pulled pork sandwich. Judging from the sandwich, I bet the plate was even better. The pork meat came in beautiful strings slathered with just enough red sauce and served on a toasted bun with pickles. The pickles were more sweet than sour, but complemented all the meat we were eating when the spicyness kicked in. The collard greens were good, too, with small cubes of pork included. They also didn’t have root beer available when we visited, but a good selection of beers on tap (Julius Echter hefeweisen, toasted Blue Point) more than compensated for it.

We went on a Monday afternoon and the place was empty. I can only imagine the crowd during the weekends when vacationing Hamptons folks crave their barbeque. You may be familiar with the Hamptons because of what you read in the celebrity papers, but Townline BBQ is a good indication that Long Island is sometimes where it’s at.

Oklahoma Smoke BBQ

231 West 145th Street between Frederick Douglass and Adam Clayton Avenues
212/862.5335
about $31 for four people, with two sodas, without tip
â™¥

The day Oklahoma Smoke opened in west Harlem, they ran out of meat. I stopped by to check their menu and they told me they just didn’t anticipate how many people were going to show up. Really? You knew it was your opening day, right? The next day, I stopped by at 2pm. They were open, but the guys in the front had to ask the kitchen what time they think they’ll be ready. 5pm, someone said. Two days after that, I called to order dinner for pick-up. It was loud in the background but I managed to order a rack and a half of their pork jerky ribs. The guy on the phone said two side dishes come with my order, so I picked collard greens and rice and beans. He also reminded me that I can have a can of Coke with it.

Half an hour later, I walked in to pick up my order. There were a few of us standing around and waiting for our orders. Once in a while, someone would announce a number. They finally stopped when they realized their customers don’t know what the numbers mean. (Them: Who ordered number 23? Us: What the hell is number 23?) They packed up my order while I waited, but then realized someone had done it already. When I looked at that bag, the wrong sides were included. So I waited some more. When I received the sauce-stained paper with my food items checked off, the young girl at the counter didn’t know what buttons to press to register my order. One of the older men had to help her. At this point, I’m not quite sure who’s working for the restaurant. When I was finally handed my order, they told me they ran out of Cokes. I picked an orange soda instead. They gave me two.

Back at home, I served the ribs to three others. I had to use my hands because the meat easily fell off the bones. I wasn’t quite sure why they were called jerky; they tasted more like they were boiled before they were slow-cooked. Without the orange-colored sauce, the meat barely tasted like barbeque. Curiously, I texted Aaron, a friend who grew up in Oklahoma, and asked him what makes barbeque an Oklahoman barbeque? All I got in response was, We use a hillbillie recipe.

Harlem is going through a lot of changes. Business owners need more practice in running a restaurant to please more than just their neighbors. At Oklahoma Smoke BBQ, they’re trying really hard–at least they do their collard greens right.

Himalayan Yak

72-20 Roosevelt Avenue, Jackson Heights, Queens
718/779.1119
about $40 for two, with one beer, with tip
â™¥

I was armed only with a Post-It when I dragged the Dr. to Queens to try out some Newari dishes in Jackson Heights. Ubin gave me some recommendations and I scribbled them on said Post-It. We walked in before the busy dinner time and had to adjust to how dark it was inside. There was only a small family sitting in the restaurant, so we felt it was odd to be seated at the long table in the middle of the room. While waiting for our food to come, we found out why: all the bigger tables were reserved for bigger groups. The waitress wasn’t kidding either. When we were finishing our meal, a band started to set up on the makeshift stage. All of a sudden, the restaurant was flooded by other Nepalis. In under ten minutes, almost every table was taken and the place filled with a language we couldn’t understand and with faces distinctly unique.

Ubin had given me a Nepalese recipe last year. Even though I spent several hours making chataamari at home, I still wanted to try and experience the other kinds of food he likes. Preferring that someone else cook them, I badgered him to send me to one the restaurants he frequents.

At the Himalayan Yak, we started with the gyuma, or the Tibetan beef sausages. They looked like blood sausages, but they snapped like crispy hotdogs. The waitress brought out four kinds of condiments, among them an avocado sauce and a very spicy dip the Dr. couldn’t stop eating even though it was “annihilating” his tongue. The chwela, a spicy Newari pork dish served cold, was boney but addicting. You put the knob of bone in your mouth and try to take apart the meat with your tongue, all while absorbing the peppery sauce. My favorite was the sukuti: Nepalese, jerky and perfect with a cold bottle of Taj Mahal. If I was eating it in Nepal, it would be prepared with buffalo meat. The spicy chicken was dry and hard to chew. It was the only thing we didn’t finish. The popular momo, or steamed dumplings, were stuffed with cabbage and helped alleviate the spicyness of the other dishes. I tried to order rice. Well, I ordered “whatever you guys eat with all of this” and was served the tingmo, or steamed white buns. They looked like a wimpy, used towel on my plate. It was too bad that our dishes didn’t have enough sauce because they would have soaked up any leftover juice from our plates.

For my first restaurant experience with Tibetan and Newari dishes, Himalayan Yak was a good introduction. We walked out as soon as the band finished tuning their instruments. We almost regretted going too early and missing out on the real party.

Related post/s:
Nepalese chataamari recipe

Ada

208 East 58th Street between Second and Third Avenues
212/371.6060
about $60 for two, without drinks, with tip
â™¥

It was a new craving. It had to be Indian food but without the heavy curry sauce. It had to be seafood. Because I remember having such a seafood meal at Rasa the last time I was in London, it had to be cooked Keralan style.

On the map, Kerala is on the Malabar coast of India. Historically, they have traded spices with all the merchants of the world. I had a difficult time finding Keralan cuisine in Manhattan, and because I had no means to head over to New Jersey the same night–where they say the good Keralan restaurants are–I ended up at Ada on the east side after finding one seafood dish that involved Kerala on the menu.

The fish came in a thick orange sauce. I had to scrape it off to make sure there is fish under all of it. When I tasted the fish, it was bland. The lemon rice was more flavorful, so I ate an entire bowl to compensate. The goat sausages were better and disappeared easily with the mint-flavored nan.

I’m not quite sure why Ada was empty on a Friday night. The hushed tone made us uncomfortable. The waiters hovered at the bar, perhaps itchy to close for the night. Back in 2001, William Grimes of The New York Times gave Ada two stars, so I was betting my Friday night on that one seafood Keralan dish. Unfortunately, times have changed since then. I’m off to New Jersey to find a better one.