Spinning in Memphis

Dear NYSC Spin Class Instructor,

The song "Walking in Memphis" sucks. I don't mind the techno, but Marc Cohn? Please save it for your drive home in your Ford Escort.

Regards,
Fidel

Get the Door

Actually, you've got to pick it up, but for the next hour and a half, you can get a one topping Domino's pizza for $3.99 at the Domino's on Smith and Bergen. I picked up two. Buen Provecho

Its go time!!

Stay tuned for my own harrowing tale of gastronomic importunitiousness (see post below) as I attempt to make a purportedly simple cassoulet to curry the favor of my Valentine.

Already a day late, will Che also be a dollar short???

Stay tuned.

ps- Importunitiousness isn't a word. I made it up.

Home is Where the Heart Is

I have to agree with the rest of the food bloggers that spending 2/14 at a restaurant is best left to those who need help in the romance department. I prefer to spend it without pants and in the kitchen. For me, love is best expressed with food, and not by a silk rose purchased at a gas station counter.

The menu:

Spicy tuna hand roll

Miso Glazed Sea Bass

Flourless chocolate cake

Wine pairing: Domaine Michel Cheveau 2006

With limited time to get home from work, get the supplies, and get cooking, I went ahead and let Hana make the hand rolls (for a little cliche factor, you can arrange the hand rolls on a plate to make a heart shape), and I let Provence en Boite make the flourless chocolate cake.

The bass itself was a breeze. The glaze is a combination of light yellow miso, soy sauce, mirin, and sake. Coat the fish, chill it for an hour, then broil it for 6-8 minutes. I served this on top of yukon gold potatoes whipped with butter and greek yogurt. Finally, I added some color to the dish with a ring of seaweed salad and toasted sesame seeds. You have no idea, but if you want to come over for dinner, I'll gladly make it again.

The end result? A very happy valentine. We got to eat her favorite things from start to finish, and everything I needed for the meal was within a 5 block radius. The sea bass came from Fish Tales, where the fishmonger was happy to place a special order for me. The wine and sake came from Smith & Vine, and the Beaujolais pairing was spot on. And as mentioned above, two local restaurants were also happy to lend a hand. Sometimes, it takes a village. Buen provecho.

Extra Value Meal

Dear McDonald's on 34th and 7th,

Your grease is also dirty (see Wendy's post from 2/7). Your snack wraps are a soggy mess of ranch dressing. Where is the quality control? I'm not lovin' it.

Regards,
Fidel

La Nueva Conquista

There’s a magical place in my neighborhood called La Nueva Conquista. The awning out front states that it is “Spanish/American Food Domincan Style Cooking”. Here’s why its so amazing:

1. Its name is La Nueva Conquista.

2. There is no set menu, and everyday they have a new selection of dishes to choose from. They include more traditional dishes like chicken guisado, beef stew, and baked chicken, but they also have way crazier stuff like goat stew and pigs feet. And everything is served on a giant bed of beans and rice, with your choice of white/yellow or red/pinto, respectively. And, if you get there early enough, you can also get plantains.

3. They offer to put gravy on everything. Think about it. Putting gravy on your beef stew. Just think about it.

4. The dude that works there is wicked fat and has the craziest coke-nail I’ve ever seen. He’s really proud of it. You can tell.

5. They don’t really have set hours, but rather they close shop when they run out of food. This adds an extra level of excitement as you rush home at the end of the night.

6. Its super cheap. Each plate is only $7. You can’t even buy two tacos at La Esquina for $7. That’s the magic of low overhead.

On the downside, there’s very little space to sit and eat (hence the low overhead) and normally when I walk in there, the people (not the employees) look at me like I just walked into their living room and put my feet up on their coffee table. But the folks that work there are ultra-friendly and very accommodating.

Definitely check this place out if you’re in the neighborhood.

Gung Hei Fat Choi

Happy Chinese New Year! Today is probably not the best day to find yourself in Chinatown. No matter how bad the opium withdrawal, you risk losing an eye to gunpowder-laced confetti, or worse, finding yourself at the receiving end of a silly string attack. After mulling over the potential hazards, one finds that the singular pro outweighs the cons. There's nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of navigating the throngs of revelers in search of the culinary jewel that is the soup dumpling, except, of course, the soup dumpling itself.



The concentration of restaurants in Chinatown is such that one might think a soup dumpling is easy to come by. But a delicious soup dumpling? That's a little more difficult. My limited expertise in the field led me straight to New Green Bo on Bayard St. and east of Mott St. It was 15 minutes through the crowds to get there from the Canal St. stop on the 6 train, and once in the vestibule of the restaurant, I knew it would be an hour more. On to plan B, Shanghai Cafe on Mott St. north of Canal. Another crowd sidestep ballet and I was there. Since the parade was focused south of Canal, Shanghai Cafe had yet to be bombarded, and I was seated immediately. Moments later, the first of two orders of soup dumplings arrived, tiny blossoms taunting me in their bamboo sauna. I had to let them cool off, and after doing so, I employed the system of dumpling on spoon, hole in the dumpling, slurp the soup, and pop the remaining deliciousness in your mouth. And once you get the system down, it's hard to restrain yourself from going on a soup dumpling bender. The size and flavor of the soup dumpling tricks your mind into thinking you never have to stop. Thank goodness it's a lunch hour, and not a lunch afternoon. Buen Provecho.

Super Value Menu

Dear Wendy's on 34th and 8th,

Please clean your fryer grease. Your chicken nuggets and french fries have an acrid tinge, and the honey mustard dipping sauce does nothing to mask it.

Regards,
Fidel

Captain Beefheart

Now, I’m not exactly sure what a Head-to-Tail Dinner is, nor do I know who Chris Cosentino is, but one thing I do know is that when a man with frosted tips points a pig’s head at you, you do what he says.

Apparently this is an organized dinner in which they serve offals, which are basically organ meats and entrails. I love how people come up with ambiguous names for these parts of the animals so you think that maybe it’s something delicious. Like sweet breads. As in, “Would you like to try the sweet breads, sir?” and I’d be all like, “Sweet breads?? Sure. That sounds delicious. Is it anything like figgy pudding??”

But for anyone who is an adventurous eater, this sounds like a really interesting event. Especially if you’re as big a fan of candied cockscomb as I am.

LINK

La Esquina

La Esquina is amazing for as many reasons as it is terrible. On the up-side, its open 7 days a week from noon to 5 am. I'm not sure who needs tacos at 5 am on a Tuesday, but apparently somebody does. Now, I'll admit that sometimes that someone is me, and when it is, that someone is wasted. But they don't judge. No way. They'll serve tacos to just about anyone willing to pay three times what a taco should cost.

And there's the rub. Every time I go there, I have to spend just a little more than I wish I had to spend. Not a lot more, but enough to make me long for easier access to a Grilled-Stuffed burrito with a side of Cinnamon Twists. And they have a $15 minimum on credit cards, which is just dumb.

But perhaps the greatest thing about La Esquina is its most unlikely menu item... La Hamburguesa. As many people know, hamburgers have become a big thing in New York these days, which is why I'm so surprised that I've never seen the burger at La Esquina on anyone's list (Fidel just informed me that it did make it on the Chowhound's top 5). I probably never would have ordered it myself had it not been recommended to me by a very hungry man, but I'm glad he did. Here's what good about it:

1. It's grilled and it tastes grilled, like a something you'd cook in your backyard. Its the only hamburger I've had in the city that truly tastes like it was good on a charcoal grill. It has the grill marks and everything.

2. It not only has lettuce, tomato and onions, it also has avocado and some sort of special sauce. I guess this is how they justify calling it La Hamburguesa. I also add ketchup.

3. Its just the right size. Its not a freaky-huge burger like you get at Jackson Hole, or 22 feet tall like Dumont. Its not by any means small, but you won't need a bib to eat it.

But the best part is this- since you can only order take-out, the burger gets kind of banged-up, the way McDonald's burgers do. Sort of smushed and delicious. I'm not sure why that makes it so good, but it just does. And to that end, if you eat at the bistro next door (not the fancy spot downstairs), don't order La Hamburguesa. It's just not the same thing. I'm not sure how they manage to screw it up so bad, especially since I believe its the made in the same kitchen as the take-out counter, but stick with the tacos (and order a Michelada).

Spin Class

Comida. The good stuff is really bad for you. I try my best to exercise, especially since I can't resist the last buffalo wing on the plate (and the requisite bleu cheese dunk). Today was spin class. During one of the many climbs in the 45 minute workout, I noticed my calves in the mirror and thought to myself, "Man, how sweet would it be if I had a tasmanian devil tattoo on my calf?"

There's always tomorrow's lunch break for that. Buen Provecho.

Street Meat

Rafiqi's
9th and Broadway
Lunch, no soda: $5

The aroma that wafts from the corner of 9th and Broadway holds a special place in my heart, right next to pool exhaust. It's comforting and familiar, and it's the siren song Rafiqi's uses to get you in line for a box of meat and rice, salad, hot sauce-white sauce. The general consensus is that street meat will kill you. Your intestines will explode with the fury of a thousand Spartans, and afternoon productivity levels will reach new lows as you spend the rest of your day in your "other" office. Logically speaking, a street vendor is subject to much more scrutiny than that of a storefront, and it's difficult to conceal hygenic shortcomings in a 5' x 5' stainless steel box. In that respect, I trust it. On the other hand, how can you get a healthy portion of chicken, lamb-flavored meat product, and rice for less than five bucks?

The answer is not low overhead. The answer is cut-rate ingredients. The "lamb" is really pressed meat and spices. Texturally, Rafiqi's does the right thing with it. It's cut from the shawarma-tisserie and thrown on the grill until a crunchy shell forms. Nonetheless, it's simply cubes of halal spam. The chicken is just plain wrong. In the age of chicken breasts, I'm not used to eating fatty chicken. It has the consistency of undercooked chicken, and no matter how many spices you rub it with, the texture screams salmonella. The salad is soggy lettuce and one slice of tomato. The rice is overcooked. The sauces are nothing more than mayonnaise and sriracha, and you'll get at least a cup of each squirted all over your platter. Aside from the crispy "lamb," the dish was a major disappointment.

This is one outpost of many Rafiqi's. Quite possibly, the expansion of the operation has diminished the quality of the food. The testimonials printed all over their cart sing their praises, but I have to put them at the bottom of my list of halal food trucks. If you're near 9th and Broadway, spend the extra money and time and make your way over to Chickpea on 3rd Avenue and St. Mark's Place. Buen Provecho.

Restaurant Week Only Sucks a Little

If you know where to go, NYC's restaurant week can be quite pleasant. The McFancy spots owned by culinary keiretsus with serious buying power can afford to be more generous than the likes of the mom and pop joints. We caught a real bad one a couple years back at the '21' Club. The first course was a mixed green salad, the entree was your choice of trout or chicken, and dessert was creme brulee. I think they've stepped it up since, but even a revised menu doesn't help the inferiority complex you get from the captain's accusing eyes. At the other end of the suck-no suck spectrum is Blue Water Grill, where the $35 prix fixe menu doesn't read like a catered event from 1987, and where you don't have to be embarrassed that you're ordering from the restaurant week menu. Granted, we still dropped $150 after wine and tip, but likely would have spent twice that much if we went the a la carte route. If you can still manage to get a reservation, I recommend the spicy salmon maki, the almond crusted black ruff with mushroom risotto, and the chocolate torte. No Meyer lemons on the menu, but that guy Meyer's a douchebag anyway. Buen provecho.

LBF

Today I bid farewell to my LBF (lunch buddy forever). After many a culinary(?) endeavor, including a month long stint at Chipotle, he has informed me that there are greener pastures elsewhere in the city. The overly priced and crappily prepared offerings extending three blocks in all directions from the office will miss you, and so will I. I wish there could be a montage here, but I'm in the middle of some serious paperwork, so instead I will list without spaces the places we frequented in no particular order:

piolachipotlereservoirjohnnyrocketslebasketsilverspursacmestriphousetacobellthesmith

Godspeed, Mr. Henry, and good luck. May your new eyes guide you along a righteous path.

McBurrito

Chipotle
Location: As many as Starbucks
Burrito and a soda: $10



I spent a year refusing to walk into Chipotle. The word alone is nails on a chalkboard, and I can't stand the smokiness of the ubiquitous pepper with the same moniker. But it was neither the name nor the flavor that turned me off. It was a matter of pride. No self respecting Mexican who grew up eating rice and beans should spend money eating a burrito from a fast food chain owned by McDonald's. And even after Chipotle had splintered off from McDonald's, I held fast to my convictions. But then the brown bags were everywhere, and everyone in the employee lounge held my childhood neatly wrapped in foil and tissue paper. It was the silent attack of the burritos. I watched sour cream ooze from their core. I watched the burritos' kaleidoscope change with each bite, and worst of all, I witnessed the voraciousness of each individual as they chewed and swallowed without breathing.

I crumbled. The next day, I walked to the nearest Chipotle. I had them prepare me a burrito with shredded pork, rice, pinto beans, corn salsa, cheese, and sour cream. I found a corner in the already bustling dining room and unwrapped the enemy, the fast food chain burrito. And wouldn't you know, it was amazing. After that first taste, I was there every weekday for a month. The pork was moist and perfectly seasoned, the rice was buttery, and the salsa was not runny. The amalgam of burrito guts harmonized better than Boyz II Men circa 1991. More importantly, the tortilla's ability to stand up to the ingredients was second to none. There's nothing worse than having to fork up the remains of a leaky burrito.

So do yourself a favor and put the "I can" in Mexican. Make your way to the nearest Chipotle and have a burrito. Hell, do what I did and have a burrito for the next 30 days. But be careful, I found out on chipotlefan.com that these things are 1,300 calories a pop. But hey, if you're gonna be a bear, be a grizzly. Buen provecho.

Daily Dick

This is why I hate email:

"Dear Marcos,

Pursuant to your correspondence to the team members below, and your
request for operations to provide direction, it would be helpful to
include operations in your request.
As such, please provide the background on Item # 7 and we will provide
our feedback.
If you have any questions please feel free to contact me directly.
Regards,

Roy L. McLeod, RPA, FMA
Vice President
Corporate Services and Real Estate"

Some random ass dude on the cc list. I don't know who this guy is or what he does. I hope he gets a lump of coal for Christmas. I also hope that he realizes I'm posting this on his company dime.

More than food

I may or may not start waxing poetic on topics other than food. Not that people are reading this to begin with, but in the event that they are, that you are, expect a bit more from Fidel Gastro.

Angus Among Us

I spent 5th through 7th grade without a refrigerator because my parents needed it at the restaurant. During those years, my father's last name was McDonald, my stepsister was Wendy (R.I.P. Dave Thomas), and we were all best friends with Colonel Sanders. Such were the formative adolescent years. Take out was my norm. But instead of burning out on fast food, I grew to love it, and even now at the risk of a sour stomach, I'll stuff my face with it. I look forward to new and exciting sandwich offerings whenever they happen to show up on TV, and as soon as they're available, I'm on the "Order Here" line.

McDonald's latest offering, the Third Pound Angus Burger, has been on my mind for a couple weeks now. Initially, I told myself I didn't need it, that it was going to be terrible, but the commercials broke my will, and finally after bringing lunch for ten consecutive days, I made my way to the closest of the three McDonald's by my office.

No photo documentation, but needless to say, it looks nothing like the commercial. I'm fine with this. I have a very thick skin when it comes to the variation between the ads and the actual. It is rather large as the commercials suggest, but that's the problem. For some reason, the larger sandwich size made for a dry burger. I kept having to drink soda to wash it down, and I was out of Diet Coke before I was even halfway through. Fighting my way through the other half, I made the following mental notes:

1) Angus Shmangus. I think the only way they could call this Angus beef is if the cows they got it from were all named Angus. Even if it was Angus, it tasted exactly like the Quarter Pounder, only more dry. Why is this any better than the rest of the McDonald's sandwiches?

2) I ordered the Deluxe model and got the Bacon and Cheese. Not a bad trade, but premade fast food bacon has the consistency and color of cinnamon bubble gum. I was also disappointed because I was curious to see if there was any improvement on the McDonald's produce since the McDLT.

3) Why am I eating this? Oh yeah, marketing.

4) If only for the french fries, this is totally worth the 8,000 calories I'm consuming.

All in all, a typical value meal from the alleged front runner of the fast food game. Nothing spectacular, but nothing terrible, save for my sour stomach. I challenge anyone to top the Wendy's Monterey Ranch Chicken Sandwich, my personal favorite.

Better Late Than Never

Photo stolen from Rozanne Gold

I believe there was a craze for Korean fried chicken last winter. Chalk it up to laziness or lack of curiosity, but either way, I missed it, and I hadn't thought about it until a recent surfing excursion to Long Beach gave me an excuse to drive through Queens. After a day of failed attempts at hanging ten, Queens native DG and myself figured the best way to cure our "we suck at surfing" blues was a bucket of fried chicken. DG's a whiz at navigating the streets of Queens, so we decided to see how the Koreans stacked up against the Colonel.


I'm a big fan of seeing what I'm about to eat scroll across an LCD monitor. A picture's worth a thousand bites. For whatever reason, I had assumed that the fried chicken was going to be in buffalo wing form, tiny little drumsticks and all, but to my surprise, it was actually big parts and pieces of our poultry pal, just like the Colonel, and the pictures only made me hungrier. Instead of a breaded mess, the chicken has more of a glazed appearance, and when it arrived at our table, it looked like the picture (This is a rarity. See previous Angus post). In addition to the chicken, we ordered a side of cheese sticks, and while delicious, it was definitely nothing new and exotic. Think Applebee's or Friday's. The chicken was another story.


We opened the steaming boxes, one order of original, and one order of spicy, and the conversation ceased. Imagine the scene in Gremlins when Gizmo's spawn gets hold of the fried chicken. I guess it didn't matter what it looked like after all. The masses were correct. Korean fried chicken is addictive. The ginger and soy and spice gave way to a barely audible but extremely satisfying crunch. The meat itself was brined to perfection. If the zipcar wasn't due back at 7, we would have stayed for another round. But is it any different than its domestic counterpart? Honestly, fried chicken in any language is great. Fried anything is great, but there's something about a clucker breaded and cooked in 350 degree oil. I give the edge to KyoChon this time, but in great part to its novelty. The next time you're in a zipcar rolling around Queens, it's definitely worth a stop. Just make sure you have plenty of time to order a second box of chicken. Buen provecho.

KyoChon Chicken
156-50 Northern Blvd
Flushing, NY, 11354
Me and DG, one beer: $35

Brooklyn Style Pizza vs. Brooklyn Style Pizza

Sal's Pizzeria
Court and Degraw
Brooklyn, NY
Small Pie: $15

The delivery boy took two slices from the box before we opened it. For that reason alone, this is the better 'za. Only kidding. Pepperoni on half, fesh basil, and a litle plastic thing in the middle (see bottom left of the box. Does anyone know what that's for?), this pie shows up hot and barely able to fit in the box. Sal's never disappoints. It is a slice of floppy, greasy, and utterly foldable chewiness, with a sauce that has a touch of sweet, but mostly garlic.


Domino's
Smith and Bergen
Brooklyn, NY
Large Pie: $12

I thought everything was bigger in Texas, but it turns out that this is also the case when it comes to the pepperoni on the Domino's offering, and apparently that's what makes a "Brooklyn Style Pizza." Domino's fails miserably with the other characteristics. No fresh basil and no plastic thing, for starters. The crust is soft, but it's also brittle, so folding the slice is out the door. The saving grace, however, comes by way of the garlic sauce. This is essentially margarine and garlic salt (I've made a home version). I also like to butter my bacon.

So who wins the battle? I'm going to go ahead and say the ranch dressing. I drown my pizza in it to the point where it's all I taste. Given the option, however, I have to opt for Sal's. The pepperoni slices on the Domino's are big to the point of being stupid. Buen Provecho.