New York Restaurants by Area – Page 8 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Fatty ‘Cue

91 South 6th Street off Berry in Williamsburg, Brooklyn
718/599.3090
$55 each for a group of 10, with drinks, with tip
♥ ♥

I donâ€™t think the ten of us overdid it at Fatty ‘Cue at all.

To celebrate the Dr. finishing residency, I organized several friends to get together and eat at Fatty ‘Cue in Brooklyn. Not a lot of people at our table were big fans of Zak Pelaccio’s first endeavor, Fatty Crab, but they were willing to try Fatty ‘Cue solely because of the promises the name â€œcueâ€ can offer. We spent about two hours eating and passing plates around to share family-style, and I can assure you, we all left pretty happy in food coma state.

The dishes were served as soon as they came out of the kitchen. We started with the pork loin, thinly sliced pieces of the best part of my favorite animal. They were soft and surprisingly light and were perfect with the green peppercorn aioli.

The coriander bacon was to die for. They had those perfectly burnt ends that were crispy. The crispiness prepared you for the fatty goodness that was underneath. If I only had to eat these, I’d be completely satisfied. The yellow curry custard, in my opinion, was almost unnecessary, but I ended up asking the waiter if I can keep the rest of it to dip the vegetables that were served later.

One of my favorites was the grilled mackerel. Iâ€™m already a big fan of the oily fish, but the way Fatty ‘Cue grilled it in banana leaves gave it so much more flavor. The chili-lime-garlic sauce was that Southeast Asian flavor that I was craving. I wanted to be in some tropical island, in a hut, ceiling fan quietly oscillating overhead, and patiently picking the fish bones.

Both the cucumber and celery salads were just the right side dishes for such a fatty spread. Cucumber chunks were tossed in brown rice vinegar, while the slivers of celery were dressed in yuzu and preserved cabbage.

Iâ€™m also going to have to get into my Malaysian recipes, as the Fatty ‘Cue version of nasi ulam was delightfully a high-blood pressure inducer. It was a little too salty for me, but I still couldn’t stop eating it. The anchovies and dried shrimp reminded me of my dad’s recipes from his hometown in Ilocos Sur in the Philippines.

Fatty ‘Cue offers the “whole pig” as a special only on Sundays, an $18 dish that’s a plate of different pieces of a pig, as opposed to a whole lechon. It was actually my least favorite out of everything we ate because it was on the dry side even though the pineapple curry added to the sweetness of the meat. The plate came with accoutrements perfect as beer food: chopped Chinese long beans, pickled red onions, lightly grilled garlic cloves and, oy, chili jam. I stuffed several pieces of everything in the steamed bun and went to town. The buns reminded me of what made Momofuku famous; you can basically stuff anything in those buns and people are not going to complain.

The lamb ribs didn’t come until we were all ready to take a nap, but when they did, no one hesitated to pick a rib and gnaw it down to its bone. The meat wasn’t gamey and fell off the bone with just the lightest bite.

All in all, Fatty ‘Cue is perfect for groups because you can order several things from the menu and share the dishes. Our bill included gratuity, which is to be expected when dining with a group of more than six people, but our waiter was attentive even though he didn’t really have to work for his tip. Food came in quickly and our glasses were refilled just as fast. With a few local brews while we waited for a table, standing by the bar was as difficult as it got at Fatty ‘Cue.

Sandwiches For Lunch, Downtown New York City

I had one day off between the old job and the next, so I planned a sandwich tour to make up for all those missed New York City lunches while I was in Connecticut. Three sandwich shops were recommended to me by my friend Josh; I needed his help because I’ve been out of the food scene for what I felt was too long. He told me to pick one and enjoy, but true to Cia-style, I went to all three and enlisted my friend Dex to help me put everything down.

Each sandwich shop occupied a sliver of a space, with Torrissi a tad more spacious to accommodate more than three tables. They all had short, straightforward menus, good unpretentious vibes and pretty damn good sandwiches. I give them all ♥ ♥

Rbbts
142 Sullivan Street between Prince and Houston

We ordered the jerk chicken sandwich, the most promising item on their menu. The fish tacos sounded good as well, but they didn’t have them the day we stopped by. The jerk chicken was on the salty side but it was full of flavor and they didn’t skimp on the chicken. A bowl of rice with it would have made me a very happy person, but I’ll take that fresh, crusty bread for lunch just fine.

Local Café
144 Sullivan Street between Prince and Houston

Next door at Local, we opted for the panini with fresh mozarella from Joe’s Dairy. You can’t go any more local than that: Joe’s Dairy has been a fixture of Sullivan Street for so many years even before SoHo exploded into the shopping mecca of downtown New York City. The contrast between the warm, toasty bread against the soft, giving cheese was incredible. The caprese combination is nothing new, but simplicity done well makes a good impression.

Torrisi Italian Specialties
250 Mulberry Street off Prince Street

We walked off the two sandwiches and headed east to Torrisi. Of all the shops we visited, Torrisi is the type of shop I dream of opening in my next life, complete with hanging sausages and aged meats. We kept a low profile and opted for three of their Italian antipasti: fried cauliflower, roasted rabe and roasted bell peppers.

Perhaps it was the time of day, but Torrisi was more bustling than the previous two and we had to wait fifteen minutes before we could eat. It got even busier when the clock hit 2pm and the line wrapped in front of the counter and out the door. I’ll definitely be back again for their sandwiches when I can spend more leisure time to wait.

And during my first week at the new job, I tried the following to add to this set of reviews:

Num Pang Sandwich Shop
21 East 12th Street off University Avenue

I couldn’t wait to taste Num Pang’s pulled pork sandwich after my other friend Caroline told me she thought about it days after she first tasted it. After a late night out, I stopped by to order one duroc pork sandwich with honey and added the ginger barbecued brisket to compare it with. Both smelled delicious and were very filling, but were essentially Cambodian stews in a sandwich. I could have easily eaten the filling with a bowl of white rice. It was humid outside and the sandwiches brought me back to those warm Southeast Asian nights.

Luke’s Lobster
93 East 7th Street off First Avenue

I waited in line for about ten minutes before I was able to order my lobster roll. I waited another fifteen before I actually got my order to-go. Such is the price you have to pay when you join the queue at the sandwich shop du jour and you’re competing with other customers who are also changing their status on Facebook, checking in on Four Square, reviewing on Yelp and, well, spooning on UrbanSpoon.

Luke’s lobster roll, albeit smaller than the rest of the east coast’s, was worth it because I can’t just walk around New York City and get a fresh and trustworthy lobster roll. Was it better than the other rolls I’ve had in Amagansett or Narragansett? It was comparable, but I’ll take it when the craving to spend $14 on a sandwich hits me.

Marea

240 Central Park South on 59th Street
212/582.5100
$256 for two people, with drinks, without tip
wheelchair patron may dine on street level
♥ ♥ ♥

I’m still thinking of those firm, yet pillowy, cicatelli. After Convivio and Mailiano, I think I’m convinced that when it comes to putting my money down for a great meal in New York City, handmade pasta has got to be a part of it.

The cocoon-shaped cicatelli sat on a very clean but rich seafood broth. Delicate mussels mimicked the pasta’s shape and provided the dish with the saltiness it needed. The summer squash pieces, also sliced so none of them were bigger than the pasta or the mussels, were tender. I’ve never been to Italy, but if this is the kind of dish locals eat along the coast, I might just pack up my shit and move there. If this is Chef Michael White’s creation alone, then I might just invite him to move in with me.

Decadence was the theme from the minute we sat down to eat. We started with Marea’s famous uni topped with a cellophane of melted lardo. If I have to pick a dish that would give me a happy heart attack, I think I found what would easily beat roasted pork belly. This is probably one of the reasons why Marea has just been named Best New Restaurant of 2010 by the James Beard Foundation.

We took it down a notch by breaking the richness with marinated sardines and then crudo tastings of snapper, geoduck, cuttlefish (sliced like tagliatelle), tuna, mackerel and fluke. The citrus and chili oil in all of them subtly cleaned our palates. They exhibited a different kind of decadence: controlled and unassuming.

A plate of morel mushrooms were next. Behold these mushrooms that cost an arm and a leg! I’ve never had them served to me whole, so I carefully sliced them to savor their earthy flavor in every bite.

To cap our meal, we also split the bouillabaisse. There was nothing that could have stopped me from sucking on that butterflied and seared langostine. There was also nothing that could have stopped me from slurping the seafood broth with that large soup spoon and then tilting the bowl to its side to scoop more. Even if Marea is about decadence of the sea, I think this bowl of simplicity says a lot about what seafood can become when sourced from the freshest and the best, and then handled by a pro.

We finished our martinis and old-fashioneds plus our glasses of white wine. I informed the waiter that the panna cotta with rhubarb compote sounded like the perfect ending to our inspiring meal but that there was just no room in our tummies for it. A small plate of petit fours were served while we contently sighed, and to our surprise, our waiter brought us the panna cotta anyway. Eh, there was an extra serving in the kitchen, he said with a smile. I forgot about not having that extra room: you don’t say no when you get something complementary from Michael White’s kitchen; you don’t say no when you get the chance to eat at Marea.

Related post/s:
Convivio is a sister restaurant

Convivio

45 Tudor City Place off East 43rd Street
212/599.5045
$170 for two people, with drinks, without tip
♥ ♥ ♥

While in Colombia, we had a few unfortunate meals that involved pasta. Sure, Italy shares a lot of history with South America–the mass emigration of Italians was between 1876 to 1976 and brought a lot of them to countries like Argentina and then to Colombia–but the “Italian” meals we had didn’t quite involve a loving grandma in the kitchen. At the beach, vegetables were brought in from the nearest big city, about six hours away, so canned sauces were easier to come by. When there were fresh tomatoes, they were used with pasta that came in a box and because most of our meals weren’t cooked individually but in a big batch for the day’s guests, the concept of al dente was nonexistent.

Back in New York, I searched for that pasta lovingly massaged by big hands covered in flour and I found it at Convivio. We had no business spending any more money after our two-week trip, but I couldn’t resist Convivio’s $62 Sunday night prix fixe menu. Unlike most prix fixes in the city, their 4-course menu included a pasta and a dessert without skipping a separate main course. I opted to start with the yellow fin carpaccio drizzled in olive oil and sprinkled with finely chopped scallions and pistachios. I wanted to start light before my preferred pasta dish: saffron gnocchetti with crab and uni.

Did you just read that? Saffron gnocchetti with crab and sea urchin! I am not exaggerating here when I tell you that the combination made me roll my eyes back in ecstasy several times. Sea and earth have never smelled and tasted this heavenly together. The pasta was soft; full, yet springy at each bite. It was pasta at its best. At first, I thought the half portion would not be enough, but it was actually the right amount for such a rich dish. It left me wanting some more and yet I was completely satisfied. I think if I had a whole serving, I wouldn’t have cherished each spoonful as much as I did.

I could not say no to the duck breast. Duck is my new lamb. Done perfectly with Swiss chard alla Romana and spaghetti squash, it was the most beautiful wintery dish without being too heavy. Thankfully I was with someone who picked the lamb chops that tasted so carnivorously good with escarole and white beans. The last time I had lamb that tasted like it was just running an hour ago was at Per Se–that’s saying a lot for a most generous option on a prix fixe menu.

For dessert, it was a battle between the vanilla panna cotta with huckleberries and lemon sorbet or a trio of “freshly-spun” gelato (peach, mango, lemon the night of our visit). I am wont to order only one dessert and split it between me and my companions, if I order at all, but both were so irresistible that we shared them during our last few minutes in the restaurant.

If every homecoming meal was Convivio style, I would gladly suffer through a bad meal or two abroad just to remind me that sometimes you don’t have to go too far to enjoy a meal that’s full of heart–grandma or no grandma.

Arirang Home-made Noodle House

32 West 32nd Street, 3rd floor, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues
212/967.5088
$10 for a large bowl of soup
♥ ♥

The key is the “home-made” part in the restaurant’s name. Don’t let the office space turn you off. I know it looks like a fire hazard in there but an hour of your life in danger is worth it for the kalguksu, or “knife noodles”, the wheat-flour noodles that are cut instead of extruded or spun. They’re soft and plump and they easily give without falling apart when swished in the hot broth.

Don’t miss out on any of Arirang’s kar-jeabe, a combination of kalguksu and sujebi, dumpling skin look-alikes that have been torn to smaller pieces. They simmer all the ingredients together for a very long time resulting into the most complicated broth you’ll ever taste. The gingery taste in the chicken broth is good if you’re feeling down this winter. They come in large bowls that could easily be split between two people unless you’re eating with a hungry Korean doctor.