Pies N' Thighs Chicken Biscuit

I know that FoodGasm NY has been rather absent of late, and again, I apologize. However, sometimes I find something so delectable and unique that I have to share it. This month, Madison Sq. Park is hosting Madison Sq. Market, an “upscale outdoor market… selling local, hand-made, and unique items.” I could care less about more useless junk being hocked in the city’s parks, but, the market hosts a “Food Square”, an outdoor eatery featuring bites from a few of the city’s restaurants. Vendors include: Pies 'N Thighs, Sigmund Pretzelshop, Safi Coffee, ilili, Fatty Crab & ‘Cue, Cabrito, Wafels & Dinges, Breezy Hill Orchard, Bar Suzette, Roberta’s Pizza, Resto, Piccolo Café, Stuffed Artisan Cannolis, Almond, Safi Coffee, Tanjore Indian Food. Hopefully, I’ll get around to writing about a few of the snacks I pick up from the Food Square, but right now, at this moment, I have to tell you about the “Chicken Biscuit” from Pies N’ Thighs.

As I perused the various vendors, looking for something to call out to me, I found myself drawn by Pies N’ Thighs – the Williamsburg down-home country kitchen joint. A small sign read “chicken biscuit”, which didn’t really tell me anything more than it was a fried chicken cutlet on a biscuit, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I asked the chef what came on the chicken biscuit besides a piece of chicken, and she responded quickly with two of the best condiments I could think of, honey butter and hot sauce. Without any hesitation and a big stupid grin, I replied, “I’ll have one”. I brought it back to my little table in the shadow of the Flatiron Building to my friends, who looked at my chicken biscuit and I with furious envy. By the time I was ready to go, the pat of honey butter had melted perfectly over the biscuit and the chicken cutlet, blending with the tangy hot sauce to make a perfect buffalo style sauce. I’m almost certain they were using Frank’s Red Hot, but I could be mistaken. The sweetness of the honey buttered biscuit, the saltiness of the chicken, and the heat from the hot sauce combined to make one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. If you like buffalo chicken sandwiches, this is for you. But unlike most buffalo chicken sandwiches, which are usually buried between some hefty pieces of bread, the light airy biscuit provides a pillow-like resting place for the crispy fried chicken cutlet. If you are by Madison Sq. Park this month, go do yourself a favor and get a chicken biscuit from Pies N’ Thighs. You can also find them at their restaurant in Williamsburg. More from the Food Square coming! Stay hungry.

FoodGasm New York's Superbowl Spectacular: Parkway Bakery of New Orleans

Hey folks, Jon here, with FoodGasm New York's SuperBowl Spectacular. When people approach me about taking the blog on the road, doing something out of the five boroughs, I usually remind people that FoodGasm has a strict policy of staying local. However, a friend of mine, and a fellow food fan, approached me about a NOLA special, just in time for the Saints to take on Eli Manning's older brother. Her constant adoration of New Orleans' food scene always leaves me salivating, so I gladly let her take the reins and represent FoodGasm on the bayou. Enjoy the review, and the stunning high res food porn. Without further ado, here is Alyssa's take on the Parkway Bakery.

Parkway Bakery of New Orleans

When one thinks of traditional New Orleans cuisine, there is gumbo, jambalaya, and of course the po’ boy. As a displaced Northeasterner, if I was asked to draw a parallel, the closest thing to a po’boy is a submarine sandwich. But don't you dare tell that to a New Orleanian with a straight face. The distinction is supposedly limited to the type of bread, but it is definitely much more than that, as I have never seen a fried catfish sub.

So the po’boy joint of choice? That would be Parkway Bakery and Tavern. Gambit Weekly’s Best of New Orleans 2009 voted Parkway Bakery the best place to get a Roast Beef po’boy, best place to get a Shrimp po’boy, and best place to get an Oyster po’boy (another type you don’t see at your local New York Sub Shop). So did this triple threat live up to the hype? I recruited a couple friends to find out.

Located in the area of New Orleans known as Midcity, the surrounding area is not exactly the place you want to get caught by yourself at night. In true New Orleans fashion, the house immediately to the right of Parkway Bakery is in the middle of a renovation, and is being lifted about 15 feet off the ground. The area did flood during Katrina, but sources say Parkway Bakery reopened just 90 days after the flood.

There are no waiters at Parkway Bakery, and the atmosphere is as casual as they come. People line up at a counter and pass menus along to the other people in line. The po’boys come in regular or large. If you intend to actually eat an entire large po’boy from Parkway, I strongly suggest not eating for about three days before. But if you did choose to eat, you can order a large anyway. The half you don’t eat will be an awesome dinner, or hungover lunch the next day.

We placed a pretty all-star order. One Roast Beef Po’Boy, One Fried Catfish Po’Boy, One Fried Shrimp Po’Boy, One Oyster Po’Boy, and the special: One BBQ Alligator Po’Boy. Then a side of Turkey and Alligator Sausage Gumbo and a large Sweet Potato Fries. I had a lot of help with eating all this, don’t worry.

When you place your order the person at the counter is going to say “dressed?” If you’re like me, your first time hearing this and your reaction is going to be to stare back blankly. But an insider tip: the answer is “yes, please.” Dressed means lettuce, tomato, mayo, and pickles. I, of course, wanted all of these, although you can place your order as you like.

Try and find a clean seat, and seat yourself. The tables are long, cafeteria style and don’t be afraid to sit at a table with people already at it. You aren’t in New York anymore, and people are all the more willing to add you to their table and talk about almost anything. Topic of choice this month? WHO DAT SAY DEY GONNA BEAT DEM SAINTS?

The food was an overall pleasure. There were certainly no displeased patrons. The all star goes to the fried catfish po’boy and the sweet potato fries. The roast beef was cooked to perfection and was some of the best roast beef I’ve ever had. It held up great, and the other half was a perfect next-day lunch.

Alligator for the most part is a similar texture and taste to chicken. I wish I could say I have something to compare it with, but in actuality, I haven’t eaten much alligator. It’s the same for the fried catfish, so I suppose I just liked the taste of catfish a bit more then alligator. They were both fantastic.

The fried shrimp po’boy was also near-perfect with the shrimp falling off the sandwich in delicious plump pieces to eat between bites.

The gumbo was also amazing. Gumbo is similar to a stew or a soup. It was spiced perfectly and the turkey and alligator sausage were plentiful and delicious. It was served with bread seasoned with garlic. Some people put the sausage and turkey on the bread and ate it as a sandwich; others dipped the bread into the gumbo and chose to eat it that way. There is certainly no wrong way.

On to the other A+, the sweet potato fries. The fries were perfect. There is no other way to describe them. They had a perfect crunch, and were much sweeter than your standard French fries.

When we were leaving, we stopped to take a picture of the Parkway Bakery and Tavern sign and restaurant. Clearly looking like tourists, an elderly gentleman asked us if we wanted to take a group picture. Then he engaged us in a conversation with a winning joke: “It’s so cold out today, lawyers are keeping their hands in their own pockets!” When we confessed to being law students, he said “hold on, I got another. There was a man, ya see, and he was arrested for bootlegging a while back. When the judge asked him his name, he said ‘Joshua, sir.’ The judge said ‘like in the bible, Joshua who made the sun stand still?’ And the man said ‘no sir, I’m the Joshua that made the moonshine still.’”

That’s New Orleans for you: friendly people, good food, and a bit of alcohol. WHO DAT?

Caracas Arepa Bar

In 2008, I was moments from packing my things and jetting to Caracas, Venezuela. A close friend of mine, who is involved in the business of making films, was contemplating shooting a documentary about the social and political unrest that Hugo Chavez has brought to his homeland. I’ve always been enticed by Venezuela, and South America in general, so I figured this would be a great place to complete my collegiate thesis on political propaganda. The foodie in me was desperate to try the cuisine, mainly, an authentic arepa, which is a corn pocket of sorts filled with, well, whatever you want, mostly due to my friend’s undying passion for them. Then I realized that shooting an anti-Chavez expose on the exploitation of the Venezuelan people would probably result in an express kidnapping at best, and my swift imprisonment and eventual execution at worst. So I didn’t go. But I still desperately wanted an arepa.

In Venezuela, arepas are everywhere. My Venezuelan friend describes, "There are many different kinds of Arepas in Venezuela, as a matter of fact, there are different kinds of Arepas all over Latin America. What makes an Arepa so good? It’s simply love, and the fact that you can pretty much fill your Arepa up with anything, and eat it pretty much any time of day. For example, it is perfectly common to begin your day with an “Arepa de Jamon y Queso” (ham and cheese). At lunch you can go to the local “Arepera” and have my personal favorite, an “Arepa de Pabellon Criollo”. The Pabellon Criollo is the national dish, which includes shredded beef, black beans, white rice, fried plantain and shredded cheese spread on top. For dinner, you can go home and enjoy a delicious “Reina Pepi’a” which is made with a typical Venezuelan chicken salad known as “ensalada de gallina” (hen salad) and avocados. If you are still hungry later on and the kitchen in your house is closed, don’t worry Areperas never do."

In New York City, most arepas are found in the lowest dregs of the culinary world. They are an unfortunate staple of those street fairs that pop up for a few hours or so, seemingly serving only to fuck up traffic, and sell crap that literally nobody buys – like dreamcatchers. These knockoff arepas taste like deep fried plastic, and they aren’t that cheap either. Until I found Caracas Arepa Bar, that was my only option short of risking my neck in South America.

Caracas Arepa Bar has an impressive array of arepas to try, usually featuring some combination of meat, cheese, bean, avocado, fried plantains, or vegetables. According to my buddy, a trip to Caracas Arepa Bar wouldn’t be complete without trying the Arepa de Pabellón. Stuffed into the corn pocket is a bounty shredded beef, black beans, white salty cheese and sweet plantains. It’s outrageously good to say the least. The ingredients logically belong together, and I’d be glad to devour them on a plate with a fork any day, but the arepa adds depth of texture and a sweet corn flavor that brings it up a level. It functions almost the same way as a pita in Middle Eastern cuisine. Sure, I would love to eat falafal and hummus any way I can, but a portable holder for your food makes it more intimate. Eat with your hands whenever possible.

The arepas are sort of pricey, usually running between six and eight dollars a pop, but two will be more than enough. I’d recommend going for lunch, where you can get an arepa, a soup, or a salad all for eight dollars. The soup varies, but when I went, it was a delicious butternut squash. For a winter’s day, it was the perfect pick-me-up before I could really get going and dive face first into my arepa. Just look at all that delicious cheese. I’d make that exchange over a dollop of sour cream or crème fraiche any day.

The restaurant is small, so you might have to wait for a table, but its size adds to its charm. The Arepa Bar feels much like a small home. It is filled with Venezuelan memorabilia, fully decked out in the yellow, red, and blue colors of the flag. As I sat enjoying my arepa, I looked up at the wall only to find an very eerie bobblehead doll of Hugo Chavez leering at me. Images of Chucky from the Child’s Play films came to mind, only instead of slicing me into pieces, the Chavez doll would have censored this post (and then probably have me sliced to pieces.) Until next time, stay hungry out there amigos.

Report Card:

Food: B+

Atmosphere: B+

Service: B

Price: $$

Overall: B+

Crif Dogs

Stumbling around the East Village last night, I decided to pop into one of my absolute favorite late night snack stops, Crif Dogs. Just a stone’s throw from Tompkins Sq. Park, Crif Dogs is a neighborhood landmark, a hole in the wall with a punk rock flavor that serves some of the city’s best hot dogs.

I’m not one for toppings on my hot dog, I’m more of a mustard and kraut kind of guy, but Crif Dogs is a bastion of throwing the kitchen sink on top of your tasty wiener. But before I get to the dogs, I want to say a few things about the venue. Crif Dogs is a hot dog stand with balls. On the other side of Seventh Street sits the now famous fire-escape-laden apartment building that the mighty Led Zeppelin used to as the cover art to their 1975 double album “Physical Graffiti”, and Crif Dogs shares that rock and roll attitude. The place is a dive, a dingy little space demarcated by a neon hot dog sign that reads, “eat me”. Just beyond the door sit some of my absolute favorite arcade classics, Double Dragon, Pac-man, and Spy Hunter. They are busted up, and sometimes don’t work great, but it certainly adds to the charm. Across from the mini-arcade is a seemingly out of place London style phone booth. If you know the right people, a well-timed knock on the trap door will open into PTD or Please Don’t Tell, one of NYC’s last remaining speakeasies, but that's a whole other review.

There are a plethora of dogs to choose from, but that’s why I’m here to help. Some are definitely better than others. Let’s start with the champ, the sure thing, the go to, the always delectable, the “Spicy Redneck”. The good folks behind the counter take a seemingly innocent dog, wrap it up in some tasty bacon, and drop it into a deep fryer. It sounds strange but deep-frying is actually a great way of making sure the hot dog has the requisite snap. As you know from last year’s “Hot Dog Battle” (see below), snappiness is probably the most important feature of any dog, done up with toppings or not. Once it emerges, its topped with some tasty cole slaw, chili, and diced jalapenos. The Redneck throws off the perfect amount of heat, but is balanced with the creamy slaw, and the fiery chili.

Up next, the Good Morning Dog.. For a full review I’m going to throw it to guest blogger, and hot dog connoisseur, T.Z. Windman. T.Z. writes, “The Good Morning Dog begins in the same fashion as most other popular Crif Dogs – wrapped in bacon and deep fried until crispy - but the Good Morning stands out from the other delicious dogs with the addition of the over easy fried egg and a slice of American Cheese. Add ketchup and this simple arrangement combines to create the best Bacon, Egg and Cheese sandwich you may find in NYC, though I doubt you will find many residents who will start their day with a Good Morning…as opposed to ending a good night”

The Chihuahua is aptly named, as this dog has a little Mexican flair, but unfortunately falls a little flat. Again, deep-fried and wrapped in bacon, but this time the dog gets the sour cream and avocado treatment. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that, but it’s just not on par with the Good Morning or the Redneck. If avocados are your thing, go for it.

I couldn’t pass up getting a “classic” kraut and mustard dog on the cheap. In this department, Crif Dogs just can’t compete with Grey’s Papaya. The dog is tasty, but the sour kraut is too mild, almost sweet, and winds up sogging the bun. At Crif Dogs, stick with the specials.

Here’s a few FoodGasm New York tips and tricks. Order ahead. A simple phone call will save you a bunch of time. Crif Dogs is always packed with a boatload of drunk and hungries, so if you don’t call, you can face an intimidating line. Second, if you can only scrape enough change for one dog, but want something to wash it down, there is free water in a cooler by the door. In the end, this hot dog stand/retro-arcade/speakeasy is definitely one my favorite late night joints.

Report Card:

Food: A-

Atmosphere: A+

Value: $$

Service: B+

Overall: A-

The Bistro Truck

Food trucks around New York City are giving an entirely new meaning to “meals on wheels”. Sure, street cart vendors have always been a part of the city’s charm, but the invasion of high quality food trucks transcends the traditional dirty water dogs and street meat so tied to this city’s food culture. This influx of everything from barbeque to waffles and dinges in mobile form seems obvious for a city constantly on the go. Still, it’s not until you buy chocolate molten cake out of the back of a truck that you think, “Damn, I wish I thought of this”.

What I find particularly interesting is the emergence of the expanding range of food available on the street. Middle eastern food carts have been staples of New York’s sidewalks for ages. Latin American food is certainly the runner up, but they seem no less prevalent. So, when I passed The Bistro Truck I was intrigued by the idea. It’s so fitting. In Paris, bistros are the alternative to haute cuisine. They exist so you can get a moderately priced, moderately sized, home-style meal, while you smoke your cigarettes, wearing a beret, reading Camus, and trash talking Americans. In New York, bistros have taken on a different role, often charging exorbitant prices while maintaining a certain degree of culinary snootiness. To see the bistro in the most pedestrian of settings was a welcome sight.

Lets talk food. I ordered the Marrakech lamb, which came with cous cous and a small salad. For 7 dollars, I was very happy. The lamb was likely braised for hours, and then pulled. I really didn’t detect many North African flavors though, so I was a bit confused as what made this Marrakech lamb. Instead, the lamb reminded me of a Jewish style brisket (that is opposed to Texas BBQ brisket). It was rich, flavorful, and tender, with just enough juice or gravy to soak up the cous cous. The cous cous itself wasn’t anything special, but once it got together with that brisket, it excelled. Other items on the menu include a “bistro burger”, which I saw being served, and it looked pretty damn good. My friend ordered the Dijon chicken, which I tasted, and liked.

Look, this isn’t a foodgasm in the slightest. It’s lunch on the street, for seven dollars. That being said, the service was a little slow. I chalk that up to a pretty long line, and its prime location on Fifth Avenue near 14^th Street. Still, the woman who seems to play owner, chef, waitress, and cashier at the same time appeared to be working her ass off, so I chose to be forgiving. Yet, some nasty old hag just had to bitch at this poor woman. She remarked snidely about the wait, which was no more than ten minutes, to which the owner apologized emphatically. To be fair, this is street food, and it should be rapid, but I empathize with the Bistro Truck. Mainly, that is, is because I wish for nothing more than to untie my tie, wrap it around my head, and cook hot dogs out of the back of a truck. Until next time, stay hungry out there folks.

Report Card

Food: B

Service – B+

Atmosphere – A

Price - $

Overall – B+

(Note – I am changing the Price grading system in the Report Card to dollar signs, instead of a letter. An “A” for price could mean a 5 dollar sandwich, or a 25 dollar entrée, depending on where you go, so this is far more telling. Grades will range from $ to $$$$$)

"You Say Tomato, I Say Agricultural Disaster"

Chef Dan Barber, of Blue Hill, has written a very interesting op-ed for the New York Times about the late blight that has destroyed much of the tomato crop in the northeast this year. It's a very good read, especially for those who plant their own fruits or vegetables.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/09/opinion/09barber.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

wd-50

Hey folks, Jon here. I'm not one for genres. Be it music or food, our ever-changing and rapidly globalizing world is shattering the walls that used to help us comprehend what something "is". When someone tells me a band is Electronic Afro Funk, or a certain restaurant is Post Asian Fusion, I begin to wonder if these labels have any use. At the same time, saying something is Japanese food, or rock music, doesn't really help either. For all their trouble, genres allow us to experience something within certain bounds. They provide a certain set of expectations for our sensory perception. Yet, one particular genre sets out to destroy these expectations by playing off of them, and ultimately shattering them. I'm talking about what has come to be known as "molecular gastronomy". Its a mouth full. Molecular gastronomy incorporates scientific techniques into the culinary arena, and by doing so it reveals some of the mystery behind the process of cooking food. This opens a door where a chef can obliterate traditional culinary norms, while allowing for far more artistic expression. In New York, Wyle DuFresne is the mad-scientist in chief in the world of molecular gastronomy, and his Lower East Side resturaunt, wd-50, is his delicious laboratory.

In a way, wd-50 is much like Willy Wonka's factory, except your golden ticket better be your AMEX, because its not cheap. Like everyone's favorite reclusive candy mogul, DuFresne takes typical fare, like eggs benedict or pastrami on rye, and transforms it into something completely different, yet at the same time totally familiar. While this is all good fun, and really interesting, it was just a little too cheeky for me at times. When you spend the kind of money that wd-50 will cost you, you want something that, in the end, tastes great, rather than makes you chuckle at how ironic it is.

To start we ordered his famous eggs benedict. Eggs benedict is perhaps one of the most universally available dishes. It can be found at nearly every brunch spot in America, and every chef who has a right to that title knows how to make it. This sort of fodder is prime for Dufresne - stuff we know, stuff we have a certain set of expectations for. This dish was definitely a great example of where molecular gastronomy works. Dufresne takes the hollandaise sauce and deep fries it, so that you have a crispy square, that once bitten into explodes in your mouth. It's almost like a gourmet "gusher", those irresistible gummies from my youth. The dish is also deconstructed, a theme that runs throughout the entire genre. Egg here, bacon there, sauce over there. Sometimes, like here for example, this works well, because it allows for the diner to appreciate individual tastes in what is generally a grouped item. Other times it's just cheesy. There's no reason to have a piece of ground beef on one side of the plate, a piece of cheese on the other, and a crouton artistically laid in the middle. Just give me a fucking cheeseburger, and cut the shit.

The other appetizer was also great. In the spirit of its Lower East Side location, Dufresne plays off of one of my personal faves, the power and the glory that is the Katz's Deli corned beef on rye. (See Below for an unapologetically raving review) Instead of corned beef, DuFresne offers up Corned Duck on a Rye Crisp with Horseradish Cream and Purple Mustard. You can't lose with cured meat folks, it's really that simple. The duck adds a certain depth of flavor that you don't get with standard corned beef. You can't invoke the spirit of the sandwich without mustard, and the purple mustard and horseradish give it a real nice kick. Still, I'm going with Katz's any day.

Unfortunately, I think at that point my meal hit a peak. The entrees were certainly good, they just seemed to fall a little short of my expectations, which were ironically to shatter my expectations. I ordered Wagyu skirt steak with long bean, tamarind, and peanut butter pasta. Sure, the steak was perfectly cooked and was a fabulous cut. I understand that peanut butter and steak are an established flavor combination that works (satay). But at this point, I began to ask myself, do I really want to be eating peanut butter noodles? At a certain point, a line is crossed between a dish that is whimsical and a dish that is unnecessary and a forced transformation into something it is not. My dinner guest ordered the scallops with pine noodle udon and chinese broccoli. What I enjoyed about this dish was that it wasn't too complex, or overly cerebral. Just perfectly seared scallops in a unique and refreshing broth. Enjoyable, but not outstanding.

For dessert, I indulged in the hazelnut tart with coconut chocolate and chicory. This is one of those dishes with Dufresne's trademark foams. While the tart was certainly decadent and delicious, the foam really didn't do it for me. Foam is just a peculiar texture, and not one I'm super enthusiastic about eating, regardless of the flavor.

All in all, wd-50, Dufresne, molecular gastronomy, the whole deal just was a little too tongue in cheek for me. I think this restaurant is best suited for his six million course tasting menu, only it'll cost you your first born. Largely, that's because this fare is perhaps best suited to small plates, which is why I was more thrilled with the appetizers. It's almost like, "Oh, wow, look at that" or "Geez, how did he do that!", but not necessarily something you want a whole meal of. Still, if your feeling adventurous and are tired of food being just something to eat, wd-50 brings a spectacle to dining that everyone should witness at least once. Until next time, stay hungry out there folks.

Report Card:

Food: A-

Service: A-

Atmosphere: B

Price: C

Overall: B

Raj Mahal

Hey folks, Jon here. I had no intention on writing this blog post. You see, its not every meal that makes its way to this site. I have neither the time, money, or culinary prowess for such an undertaking. Tonight, I ate at Raj Mahal, with no intention of blogging the details afterwards. However, I feel obliged to you, my good readers, to tell you a little about my dinner. No restaurant has ever given me such mixed signals, so intensely liking and disliking a place at the same time. 

We arrive at Raj Mahal, located on East 6th Street in the heart of what is affectionately known as "Curry Row". Since I moved to the East Village, I have been itching to try one of these places, and so I did. Through a cursory glance at various internet publications ("menupages.com", "yelp.com", and the like) I decided upon Raj Mahal. Unfortunately, I don't have photos for you. Sorry, I'll try and be as descriptive as I can. Really, it wasn't the food that was so remarkable about this place, it was everything else. 

Okay lets start with the positives. If you've ever walked through this part of the East Village, you know the scene. Over-anxious Indian men crowd the sidewalks, yelling and grabbing at anyone that crosses their path. I've even seen some of them get into fights, out do-ing each other by offering prices, specials, sexual favors... they really want your business. While its certainly true there is something charming about that experience, it often falls upon deaf ears and cold stares. This is New York City after all. So, to approach with the intent to enter, made me feel like I was doing something good. They were the Babu Bhatt to my Jerry Seinfeld. 

Inside I was immediately overjoyed at the sight of two Indian men playing a sitar and a drum. Personally, I love this sort of thing. It could be my love for all things George Harrison, my fascination with Eastern philosophy,  or both. I often tune into the classical Indian or Iranian stations on Itunes and tune out. Suffice to say, that was awesome, and I may go back, just to ask if I can jam out with those dudes. 

But perhaps the thing that I loved and hated the most was that it was truly a wormhole into Mumbai. Everything about this place was 100% authentically Indian. On one hand, thats great. I often remark that I love New York City because of this very phenomenon. Nowhere else in the world shares that ability to instantly produce such a multitude of authentic global cuisines. Most of the food we ordered had a very homemade feel to it. It was almost like eating in somebody's kitchen on any weekday night in India. The Chicken Sobzi was a well flavored stew, which was perfect over the buttery rice and some fresh nan. The Chicken Tandoori was good, nothing out of this world, but not terrible. Its burnt orange hue and unique spiciness really demonstrate the classic technique of its traditional clay pot namesake. Most of all, the place wasn't every other post-modern, neo-architectural trendy spot. New York is littered with far too many of those places, replacing quaintness with pseudo style. On the other hand....

I knew something was wrong about three minutes into my meal. My friend alerted me to a sight I wish I hadn't seen. Scurrying its way across the wall behind us was a rather large cockroach. Thats just not something you wanna see while your eating. Suddenly all the charm of this place turned into trepidation. Was I eating something I shouldn't be? Were there more behind me? I was uneasy to say the least. For my friend it was simply too much. He never regained his appetite, and I'm pretty sure he'll never eat at Raj Mahal again. The only thing that comforted me was to pretend like I was in Mumbai, and realizing that far worse natural unpleasantries could be between me and my chicken than one small bug. My only option was to put it out of my mind, and stop being a whiny Manhattanite. But come on, cockroaches? Really? Clean your shit up Raj Mahal, no excuses for that sort of thing in the NYC restaurant biz. The place is rather dingy too, and dimly lit to boot. That's not always a bad thing. It is when there's insects about. Further, the table settings look as if they hadn't been changed since 1975, with glasses and plates that went out of fashion long ago. I can't decide if I like that, or if it goes to its general skeeviness. 

Another thing that was a little unsettling was my stomach. Minutes after leaving I began to feel a little queasy, which was only exacerbated by the realization that my illness could have been directly related to Raj Mahal. On reflection, there was something a little odd about the bone structure of my chicken. I've eaten my fair share of chickens in my day, but I'd never seen one that looked quite like this. It was almost like a squab, or a NYC squab, A.K.A. pigeon. Whatever it was it tasted good, but I'm definitely suspicious as to its origins. 

The bottom line is this; if you are the sort of person that would be bothered by questionable food, less than stellar cleanliness, and general disconcert for modern culinary conventions, this place isn't for you. But if you eat street food all the time, know and employ the "five second rule," and enjoy ethnic cuisine you should check it out. Still, I'm torn on this one. On return to those very internet sites that referred me to Raj Mahal, I noticed something I missed before. All of them read, "great takeout". Until next time, stay hungry. 

Food: B

Atmosphere: Either an A or a C, I really can't say. 

Service: A-

Price: A- 

 

Overall: You be the judge, I'm sitting this one out. 

Nobu

As a huge fan of Japanese food, one restaurant has always been on my short list of places I must eat at; Nobu. Recently, I finally had the opportunity to get a taste of what I had been missing.

Upon arriving at the Tribeca restaurant, we were sitting at our table within minutes (with a reservation). After placing our order, our first course arrived between 5 and 10 minutes later. From there, it seemed like the following courses arrived just as we were cleaning the plate on our table. Our 8 course meal was completed in just over an hour and a half!

The menu is a little intimidating. I can hold my own when it comes to ordering sushi, but Nobu is known for their hot and cold dishes. We relied on suggestions from our waiter for most of the selections we made.

Fresh Yellowtail Sashimi with Jalapeno

Great way to start the meal. The fish was incredibly fresh and the jalapeno complemented it very nicely.

Salmon Tartar

This really impressed me. The fish was mounted in the center of a bowl and was surrounded by some sort of wasabi and soy-based sauce. Truly outrageous flavor combination.

Sashimi Salad with Matsuhisa Dressing

If you had asked me last week what I might expect to order while at Nobu, the last thing I would have told you was a salad. However, I am extremely glad that I did. The dressing was amazing and perfectly complimented the seared tuna and fresh greens. Wow.

Rock Shrimp Tempura with Creamy Spicy Sauce

This dish wasn't bad in the slightest. I enjoyed it very much. However, it wasn't anything I couldn't get at any other Japanese restaurant. I was hoping for more.

Squid "Pasta" with Garlic Sauce

Intriguing. It's been almost a week since I had this meal and I still can't decide how I feel about this dish. It was good, but it was the first dish of the night I wasn't racing to finish. I think I enjoyed the mushrooms more than the squid. If anyone else has had this, please comment and let me know what you thought of it.

Broiled Black Cod with Miso

Unreal! This was easily the best dish of the night. The fish was tender, flaky, and incredibly flavorful. I could eat this dish everyday. It was that good. Does anyone know a fish monger in the city that carries black cod?

Sushi - Red Snapper, House Special Roll

It would have been very weird to have a Japanese meal and not have at least a little sushi. So we had to indulge a little bit. We got the house "special" roll. The waiter said it included 5 different fishes. I would guess this includes salmon, tuna, yellowtail, and a few others. It was good. Not the best roll I've ever had, but the quality of fish definitely lived up to my expectations. In addition to the roll, I also ordered a piece of Japanese Red Snapper sushi. The waiter said it was only available for a few months during the spring. This I really enjoyed.

Warm Bittersweet Chocolate Soup

The bowl arrived with a mound of peanut butter crunch, ice cream, and chocolate mochi. The waiter poured the warm chocolate over it at our table to fill the bowl. This was the perfect way to cleanse our palettes and finish the meal. The mochi was a little strange. It has the consistency of jello, yet tastes like chocolate. Overall, I loved it. Maybe I'm just a sucker for chocolate. But who isn't? This dish was gone before I could get my camera out to snap a picture.

Report Card

Food: A-

Atmosphere: A (beautiful restaurant and great ambience)

Price: C (overpriced)

Overall: B+

Nobu

105 Hudson Street

New York, NY

212-219-0500

Momofuku Noodle Bar

Momofuku Noodle Bar is officially my new obsession. I was already on the David Chang bandwagon after having tasted his asian fusion cuisine at the NYC Locals Only event on the corner of Houston and Broadway. Now, having been to two out of four of Chang's East Village hotspots, I am a believer. Perhaps, what I love most about the Noodle Bar is that the menu changes daily. The prix fixe meal that I indulged in tonight will never return, but will instead be supplanted with something equally, if not more delicious. 

During our recent visit to the Noodle Bar, I was lucky enough to sit at a bar in front of the open view kitchen, spending the meal schmoozing with the chefs about all things Momofuku. But most importantly, no question went unanswered. Anything I wanted to know about what I was eating was met with a quick and informative response. It was a great insight into the workings of a busy kitchen and its staff.

Okay, lets get to the good stuff. The prix fixe option consisted of a four course, one night only, orgy of super delicious and interesting dishes. We also ordered a couple things off of the permanent menu. Lets start with the June 22, 2009 specials. Before any of the menu items arrived, we were treated to a complimentary amuse boushe. The moment I put it in my mouth  I knew I was about to embark on a wild culinary adventure. Atop a japanese soup spoon was a fresh strawberry with a reduced greek yogurt, cilantro, and some sort of spicy honey. (Sorry, I was too excited to snap a photo) It was the perfect combination of sweet, spicy, and savory. Let's just say I was very ready for the next dish.  The appetizer was an Octopus Torchon with sorrel, mustard greens, and furikake. I can't be certain, but I believe that Torchon is a play on words, being that it is a style of lace, and a method of cooking fois gras, by poaching it in a towel. I say that because the octopus was cut razor thin and beautifully plated, and certainly delicately cooked. It was accompanied with some really fresh micro-mustard greens. It was terrific, really light and fresh. It fully awakened for my pallatte for the next dish, which fucking blew my mind. 

About ten minutes later the waitress brought out my favorite dish of 2009. It was a Duck Tsukemen, with a chilled dipping broth, pickle salad, and sesame. Tsukemen noodles are similar to Ramen noodles, but are a bit thinner and are meant to be dipped into a broth. The duck was outrageous. It was smoked with several different kinds of wood, and conveyed a powerful campfire flavor along with its super crispy skin. Dipped in the broth with the noodles, it was a five alarm foodgasm. I know I throw that term around a lot, and it is the name of this blog, but this wasn't just any foodgasm. It was a sophisticated explosion of complex flavor and texture. This wasn't Megan Fox or Kim Kardashian, it was like fucking Natalie Portman. Oh, the pickle salad rocked, and you know me, I love me my pickles. 

The last savory dish of the prix fix was Roasted Diver Scallops with fennel puree, baby rainbow Swiss chard, and lemon. What can I say, this was great. The scallops were flavorful, with a perfect crust on the top and bottom. The fennel puree was also outstanding, providing a nice bed for the scallops. My only problem with the scallop dish was that it came out when I was face first in a bowl of ramen. 

I have always loved ramen. In fact, Top Ramen, you know, the one that costs 25 cents in the grocery store, was the first thing I ever learned to cook on my own. In grade school, I think I had one a day, until I realized I was slowly poisoning myself with sodium. Thanks to David Chang, I don't think I'll ever be able eat store bought Ramen again. This blew my mind. Momofuku Ramen has a rich and hearty stock, which provides a great home for some perfectly cooked Ramen noodles, pork belly, pork shoulder, scallions, mushrooms, nori, and a poached egg. The chef disclosed that they use a super high tech steam oven to slow poach the eggs in the shells. Pretty nifty. I'm pretty sure at one point I had my entire head in the mega-sized bowl, only coming up for air when I reached the end of a very long noodle slurp. These asian fusion noodle joints are all the rage in New York's food scene, but it is safe to say Momofuku Noodle Bar is the kingpin.  

The prix fix also came with with Momufuku's famous ice cream flavors, but I think that's better left for the forthcoming Momofuku Milk Bar review. Stay hungry. 

Report Card:

Food: A+

Service: A

Atmosphere: A-

Price: A-

Overall: A

Wechsler's Currywurst and Bratwurst

It's two in the afternoon on a Saturday, and I just time traveled into my bed from Wechsler's Currywurst and Bratwurst, where I had been drinking last night. I was drinking beer, lots and lots of really great beer. I suppose I should take you back in time. You see, not so long ago, as I was walking down First Avenue, something caught my eye. It was a resturaunt that I had never seen before. One with a big open window that displayed a small but cozy bar, built around a piping hot grill, loaded up with sausages. I didn't even have to look at the menu to know that I'd be returning to here some time in the near future. 

Since that day, I've made two visits over to Wechsler's. The first was primarily an eating excursion, and the second, well, that was last night's beer tour of Germany. Before I divulge in the details of the food and drink, let me say something about the ambiance, if you will. Inside Wechsler's, you are immediately transported to a small bar somewhere in rural Germany. Wechlsler's family crest is adorned on the walls, along with portraits of various German's, likely to be Wechslers from the late 19th century. Its the kind of place you would expect men with leiderhosen to come and drink you under the table. Its the kind of place you find hidden somewhere in Bavaria, not in downtown Manhattan. At the same time, it's emblematic of modern Europe. Wechsler's is filled with Germans visiting New York, or those of have recently moved here. Why? Because of the currywurst.

In Germany, currywurst is king. I can't pretend to be an expert in the wonderful world of currywurst, but I can tell you why it rocks. Wechsler's currywurst is a pork and veal sausage, grilled till its hot and snappy, and then cut into bite size peices. Its then smothered with a tomato curry sauce, and sprinkled with some curry powder. Its tremendous. The curry sauce is such a great compliment to the sausage. For those who enjoy ketchup on your hotdog, but long for more complex and exciting flavors, this is for you. 

The bratwurst is equally terrific. Its served on a rectangular cardboard holder, meant to be eaten with your hands. It comes with a delicious roll, which I used to make little bratwusrt sandwiches. I'm all for authenticity, and eaten things with my hands, but that brat was smoking hot, and the American in me really wanted it nestled on some sort of bread holder. It comes with some spicy mustard, which is great, but once you have the hot mustard at McSoreley's Old Ale House everything seems to pale in comparison. We also ordered a wild boar sausage and a lamb sausage. I wasn't going to not try the wild boar, but in the end, it was mediocre at best. The lamb sausage was good, but very "lamby" if you will. If you love lamb, go for it, but if you generally aren't crazy about lamb, well, dont. 

The currywurst comes with pommes frites, and they are out of this world. I'm not quite sure why so many swoon after Pommes Frites on Second Avenue. They aren't even frites really, they are more like the chips you get in England. Sure, they have a plethora of fancy dipping sauces, but the frites should speak for themselves. These frites are no joke, and are by far some of the best I've ever had. Frites should be thin, like McDonald's fries, thinner actually, like matchsticks, but not so thin that they are tasteless crisps, like those god awful shoestring fries. They should be salty as hell, and fried until dark they are golden brown. They are of the sort you would expect from a top tier French restaurant with an order of Steak Frites. You can get an entire order for 2 dollars, so don't be shy. 

During my first visit, I ordered a beer to go along with all of that delicious food. I asked the bartender to help me with a selection. You see, this isnt the sort of place to get a Heineken, or a Stella Artois even. The entire beer list is in German, and are likely regional beers from Germany. What I was given was a monster sized beer-stein of Hofbrau, a delicious golden lager. I immediately thought of Broken Lizards's hilarious film, Beerfest. This was the secret recipe beer, the beer that I wanted to freeze and ice skate on it in the winter. It was a beergasm. It was so good, that I decided to go back to Wechsler's last night, and get bombed on it. 

This is the sort of place where each beer has its own glass, only to be used for that one particular beer. The bartender was kind enough to help us choose. After a few cold ones, mumbling "weissenbraukrackenfranzenhammer" didn't get us very far on our own. I must say, the "weisse" or wheat bears were great. The bartender, obviously a savvy businessman, kept recommending beer, and we kept knocking them back. I was glad to do it. We tried some of this, and some of that. I would tell you what they were called, if I could remember, let alone pronounce them. The next thing I remember was the bartender asking us if we wanted something a little special. With you good readers in mind, I gladly indulged. What he brought us was bacon smoked beer. I was happier than a little schoolgirl at the very thought. After one sip, I was in heaven. It's a dark and rich beer, that powerfully conveys the aroma of burning beachwood, and the unmistakable flavor of bacon. After a few more sips, I decided that I could never again drink that in my life. Its not that it wasn't outstanding, its just was too much and too rich. It didn't just "remind me" of bacon, I was drinking liquid smoked cured pork belly. 

At that moment, suddenly I awoke at my apartment. With the taste of bacon beer on my lips, I knew one thing. I had to pee, a lot.

Stay hungry folks, most posts are coming soon.  

Coming Soon

Hey folks. I must apologize for the long delay between posts. As I have mentioned before, unfortunately this is not my full time gig. However, I am ready to roll with a whole slew of new posts to make it up to you. In the coming days, Foodgasm NY is coming at you with everything from NYC fine dining meccas like Nobu and Balthazar, to German and Venezuelan delights in the East Village. Be excited. Stay posted. 

Coming Soon:

Nobu

Wechsler's Currywurst and Bratwurst

Balthazar

Momofuku Milk Bar

Caracas Arepas 

Defonte's Sandwich Shop

Ottomanelli and Sons Meat Market

Borgo Antico

Until next time... Stay Hungry.