Celebrating Tofu Cream Cheese (and Steph, too!)

TOFU CREAM CHEESE is not usually a product about which I find myself having much to say. Mostly, the stuff stinks. Not for a minute do I believe I am eating cream cheese while attempting to enjoy a bagel laced with a Tofutti impostor, and its bland taste and suspect texture belie its healthier reputation. Except for this: Tofu Gourmet Spread. Mint found it at a market in Brooklyn Heights. Not only does it manage to approximate the sweet flavor of real cream cheese, it maintains its healthy status and I don't find myself wincing when I bite into it. Vegans and lactose-challenged of the world, unite!

Of greater immediate importance, however, is the goat cheese on this pizza at Prohibition. Not that the pizza was really all that remarkable, but it was had in the company of Steph and friends gathered to celebrate Ms. Steph's birthday. If you missed the event you might atone by heading out to Long Island in mid-October to catch the one-and-the-same Steph appearing in a regional production of Jeckell & Hyde. Further bulletins as events warrant.

End of Summer, Part III: L&B Spumoni Gardens

L&B Spumoni Gardens
2725 86th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11223
(718) 449-1230
spumonigardens.com

FOUNDED IN 1939 and run for the next 68 years by the Barbati family that founded it, L&B Spumoni Gardens is a perennial favorite for Best Pizza in New York City (strike that, in Brooklyn, as if the City mattered at all in the contest) in the only media outlet that really matters: people who eat there. If you think otherwise, you haven't eaten at L&B's.

Mint, Steph and I finished our Last Day of Summer crusade, which began in Tribeca and continued on to Coney Island, by ordering up a half-tray of Sicilian pizza in Bensonhurst. L&B's cheese-first, sauce-on-top school of deep-dish pizza-making earns itself, at first, many a startled disbeliever. That is, until first bite. The crowds melt away into the summer breeze; the din of spumoni lovers waiting in line softens to a hush. All that remains is the sweet, sweet sauce, tangy cheese and a crispy, coal-burnt blackened crust. L&B's patio was invented for moments like this.

For $18 you get 12 slices of inch-and-a-half-thick goodness, you pick up a shaker of grated Parmesan, a shaker of garlic salt and a shaker of red pepper, and then you sit and enjoy yourself on L&B's sprawling outdoor patio. Neighborhood locals come and go, the clustered line waiting for homemade spumoni refreshes itself endlessly, and plate after plates of hot heroes and pasta pass by. This is summer at L&B's. I defy you to find me a better slice of life.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Hopefully once more before it get chilly.

End of Summer, Part I: The Bigger Little Place

The Bigger Little Place

61 Warren Street
New York, NY 10007
(212) 528-3175

THIS MEXICAN KITCHEN, formerly known as The Little Place, was forced to close what was its Tribeca lunch counter in the aftermath of September 11. Six months later, its owners purchased the storefront nextdoor, renovated, expanded, and reopened as the Bigger Little Place.

Surely there are finer brunch spots in New York. Certainly there are far cheaper Mexican kitchens. Yet it is to the Bigger Little Place that Mint and I return time and time again, and today we dragged Steph with us. There's something about the grilled biscuits with strawberry butter. Mint swears the bacon is the best she's ever had. The huevos rancheros, eggs piled up on thick corn tortillas, are more satisfying than any I've had elsewhere. It's wholly unfascinating, and it's probably more expensive than it ought to be. I have no explanations.

Still, I have to recommend the Bigger Little Place. It's an honest kitchen in a city that so often boasts restaurants aiming for such great heights. You can do nothing here but sit, drink coffee, and enjoy your meal (the service, though amiable and pleased to respond to your requests, is rather laid-back, so perhaps you have no other choice). The Bigger Little Place is quite simply just delicious.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Yup, yup! If you're visiting the city and staying downtown there's an out-of-towner discount if you show your out-of-town driver's license for brunch.

Early Breakfast, Late Dinner (Happy Birthday Kat!)

Brooklyn Label
180 Franklin Street
Brooklyn, NY 11222
(718) 389-2806
www.brooklynlabel.com

Ollie's
1991 Broadway
New York, NY 10023
(212) 595-8181

TIME FOR CONFESSION: it's true, yes, that I arrived at work a little before 11:00 a.m. today on account of breakfast. I'm sorry? Well, no, I'm not at all, really--it was damn delicious.

Mint's work schedule usually grants her either Saturday or Sunday off-work, though this week the schedule Gods (Mitch and Nick, admittedly, not being names normally befitting of deities) conspired to give her neither, offering Tuesday in trade. So, with the prospect of having no free time together for the rest of the week, I decided that I was in absolutely no hurry to get to work myself. Breakfast at Brooklyn Label was in order.

Not surprisingly, the normally- packed weekend brunch spot was nearly empty at 9:00 on a weekday morning, save for a trickling crowd of coffee counter customers grabbing morning cups to-go. We grabbed a table in the corner and the service was, needless to say, quite attentive. The kitchen, too, was in its prime, being frequently subdued in both quickness and quality on a busy Sunday morning. Mint's eggs were a perfect accomplishment of over-medium, and mine, soft-scrambled with tomato, basil and aged cheddar, showcased all of their flavors with notable perfection. We were also happily offered home fries, made at the whim of the kitchen, not normally residing on the menu, which were deliciously just too crisp and served with BL's house label "Chef's Revenge" ketchup and hot sauces.

Oh, so delicious--just be careful if you bring one home...

Fast-forward eight hours. After meeting up post-work with Mint and killing a few hours with Steph (drinking, wrapping gifts for Kat, and playing Photohunt at Dive 75, then drinking and grabbing a snack at City Grill's bar) we continued wandering south through the Upper West Side, down to meet Kat & Co. at Ollie's Noodle Shop just above Lincoln Center for dinner and birthday festivities.

Now, Ollie's is many things to many people; sitting smack across the street from the Sony Lincoln Square movie theater it's a go-to spot for pre-movie munchies. Blessed with unusually large amounts of space for little more than a glorified Chinese takeout joint (including a covered public atrium with tables for those who want to forgo formalities and order from the counter), it's one of the few cheap places in this city large enough to house a dozen people at one table:

The St. Marks kids are alright; the tofu has been better

The food is what you expect, rarely much more--the lo mein is competent, the red bean buns steaming and stuffed with, yes, red bean paste, the scallion pancakes somewhat larger than elsewhere. The "sizzling" tofu platter managed to disappoint by being bland and not at all sizzling. The service is usually poor; tonight, a male waiter stalked our table as we pieced together the check. I cannot express how much I dislike that type of treatment.

But the service and the food is a footnote to Kat's birthday, her twenty-first, and an opportunity for Mint to buy her a 22-ounce can of Sapporo along with assorted Hello Kitty trinkets and a bottle of glucosamine (hey, everyone knows that arthritis really kicks in at twenty-one). And anytime a double-digited number of friends show up to celebrate your birthday, it's bound to be good time.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Brooklyn Label should (finally) be announcing its new summer/debut dinner menu soon; you're better off grabbing take-out and sitting in the "outdoor" atrium rather than braving Ollie's similarly backwards idea of "service."

Hungry for Art

AARON WAS KIND enough this afternoon to offer me and Steph a quick tour of the Met's awesome new Greek and Roman galleries. It's quite the space. The main gallery is impressive enough on its own, letting you meander in and about an assortment of ancient works, but so are the galleries surrounding it. They're the perfect excuse for the Met to show off its expansive archives. In fact, my favorite room might have been the least conspicuous one--a side gallery full of glass-enclosed collections of pottery, glass, miniature terracotta figures, and other such assorted ancient goods. It's wonderful to be overwhelmed by art, be it the stuff in the main gallery that's just physically larger than you or a collection so expansive, sprawling, and revealing you fear you could never take it all in.

A room with a view

And there was lunch involved: Pintailes, a pizza joint, which was nothing spectacular, but certainly worth the walk up alongside the park. I can imagine--whether you're visiting the Met, the Guggenheim, or the Cooper-Hewitt--five minutes makes all the difference if you're looking to ditch the crowds for a bit and score some lunch.

You'll find creative thin-crust creations at Pintailes, but you're better off grabbing it to go and searching for a seat in the park nearby--seating is limited on premises. We grabbed a couple slices each (plus a bottle of water or pop, $5.50-$6.50) and chowed down on a bench outside.

Fast-forward six hours and five comics later. Mint and I finished up another fine set of Monday Night Comedy at Pete's Candy Store and set off in search of our favorite Monday night feast: Sapporo Haru. Again, after promising a while back tales of server insanity we've failed to deliver, opting instead for our sushi delivered or, as we did tonight, take-out. So, I'll leave you with more pics of Met grandeur and send you to bed without pictures of dinner (find more over at Aaron S. Hitchcock Presents):

Real Madrid 2-1 Valencia: Everyone Wins at the Biergarten

Nevada Smiths
74 Third Avenue
New York, NY
212-982-2591
Official website

Loreley Biergarten
7 Rivington Street
New York, NY 10002
212-253-7077
www.loreleynyc.com/

Rice to Riches
37 Spring Street
New York, NY
212-274-0008
www.ricetoriches.com

WHERE TO BEGIN... how about with Ruud van Nistelrooy's opening goal for Real Madrid in the 17th minute of yesterday's match against Valencia?

At that point I was sitting by myself in Nevada Smiths, the black hole of football fervor many New Yorkers know from the curious crowd that gathers outside on Third Avenue attempting to peer through its blackened windows. No, it's not a strip club. But when the place gets "full up" for a game the unlucky are relegated to the sidewalk outside. There they strain to peek in like some sixteen-year-old kid with bad acne and a bad fake ID promising the bouncer his "friends are just inside." Not that it's happened to me.

Anyway, Nevada's shades were drawn yesterday but there was hardly a wait when Real's striker put Madrid ahead with a volley turned so quickly to goal the television cameras lost it before it hit the back of the net. It was at precisely this moment that Aaron called. He can attest to this fact because I answered by screaming, "Goooooooool!" into the phone.

Sir Aaron, Miss Natasha, and Philly friends Peyton and Elissa joined for the second half of the game, which featured David Beckham's return to action in a moment of dramatic revival even Jesus must have envied. The camera tilted slowly up following Gago's exit to reveal Madrid's unannounced substitute, (angels sing) Beckham! The madridistas cheered, the Valencia crowd mocked them with chants of "M-L-S!" and Beckham responded minutes later by calmly curling a free kick into the Valencia box where Sergio Ramos put the game away for Real.

Did I mention Nevada Smiths serves meat pies (beef, chicken, or curry vegetable) for $3 each? Oh, well, I didn't have one--just whiskey, thanks--but this is a food blog after all, and man cannot live on the glow of David Beckham alone. It bears mentioning.

From Spain to Germany in fifteen blocks

After the game, our crew wandered down to the Lower East Side in search of a place Natasha had just chosen to host her birthday gathering in a few weeks: Loreley. Seemed a good plan to check it out. We were joined by Steph, ordered drinks from the bar, and then told the wait for six to sit in the biergaten out back was "nearly impossible." That's all? We'll wait.

Perhaps forty minutes later I went to tell our kind hostess that we would be leaving. Her response: you're table is ready. Oh, is that true? We'll sit.

The menu at Loreley is about what you would expect from a beirgarten--beer, meat, and potato pancakes--without any of the awe-inspiring open space that make beirgatens... well, gartens, and not just the backyard of some bar on the Lower East Side. Don't get me wrong, the owners of Loreley have done a really wonderful job of opening up every last inch of space they can squeeze out of their Rivington & Bowery digs, but in the end its just a taste of the beer garden life you're seeking, not the authentic experience (for that, we recommend the Bohemian Hall in Astoria, Queens.)

After waiting in here for an hour...

...you will most certainly need to spend some time out here

It's a good life, though, that's for sure. We ordered rounds of draught Kolsch by the tray ($22 for 1.6 liters, or $30 for 2 liters poured into .2 liter glasses, 8 to 10 glasses respectively), Natasha ordered a 1 liter stein of the stuff, and we all proceeded to fill our end of the communal table with burgers ($12), fries ($6), plates of potato pancakes with smoked salmon ($14), and cold cuts with cheese and bread ($12). After eating and drinking our fill, our tab had only run to $150 for six of us. Not a small number, but for that much food and drink on a Friday night on the LES, no one was complaining.

Delicious!

Upon leaving Loreley we were aimless and about to head our separate ways, but not without one final stop. With our friends from Philly having had their interests piqued by word of multi-flavored rice pudding a few blocks away, we headed into Soho and the world of Rice to Riches.

"It looks like Japan happened here."

Both Steph and Elissa chose Sex, Drugs and Rocky Road while I kept things a little more classic with the Coconut Coma, both ridiculously decadent choices. I had heard this stuff was expensive, but $5 for a "solo" serving that could easily have fed two people didn't seem outrageous, the quality was top-notch, and the atmosphere was as indulgent as the flavors. No complaints here. I even have a space-age takeout container with the leftovers in my fridge. Now, when the aliens come I know to take them for rice pudding.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: There's a Champions League final; Natasha's birthday; and I'm showing extraterrestrial friends from Mars, Japan, and/or Philly around NYC.


Photos courtesy Marca (top) and Gothamist (bottom)

Yes, That's Right, Malted Milk Ball Ice Cream!

The City Grill
296 Columbus Avenue
New York, NY 10023
212-873-9400
www.thecitygrillnyc.com

STEPH AND I spent the afternoon at The Morgan Library. For $12, it's one of those random New York museum experiences that reminds you simultaneously how old and young this city is. The Morgan name should sound familiar: J.P. Morgan has been offering financial services for those who can afford if since, well, a while ago. The library and museum in NYC houses all of the family's books, Gutenberg Bibles, Mozart manuscripts, and medieval art pieces. You know, the stuff any family has laying around after a few hundred years of financial industry dominance.

This reminds me how young this city is because five hundred years of history just doesn't cut it on the world scene. You walk into Morgan's white marble foyer, turn into his study (complete with Renaissance-painted wood ceiling panels) and wonder just what is this is doing in New York? You're trying too hard, literally, if you need to import your ceiling from the Renaissance. Yet, it's beautiful and you'll admire it anyway.

Was there food involved in this?

Steph and I went back uptown afterwards and ended up having dinner sitting at The City Grill's bar while watching Ohio State beat Georgetown en route to the national championship game. The enormous crab cake sandwich was fantastic; the game was better. The dessert, however, does deserve a few more sentences:

Why do you want this dessert? Keep reading to find out!

We ordered two desserts, actually. The first was a grilled pound cake listed among the daily specials with vanilla ice cream, sliced peaches and strawberries. A good idea, but the pound cake was obviously grilled on the same grill as everything else in the restaurant. This gave the pound cake an odd taste neither of us much liked--we split one of the two slices and abandoned the other.

Our second dessert was a simple brownie sundae ($6.50), but instead of vanilla ice cream it came with malted milk ball ice cream, which was, yes, as amazing as it sounds. Whipped cream and chocolate syrup were also involved, the brownie was excellent on its own, but I'll repeat--malted milk ball ice cream! Seriously, I'd pay full price next time just for that.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Do I have to say it again? Malted milk ball ice cream!

Mid-March Madness

Patsy's Pizzeria
61 W. 74th Street
New York, NY 10023
(212) 579-3000
www.patsyspizzeriany.com

Dive Bar 75
101 W 75th Street
New York, NY 10023
(212) 362-7518

Jacques-imo's
366 Columbus Avenue
New York, NY 10023
(212) 719-0150
www.jacquesimosnyc.com

AFTER WORKING ALL morning on St. Paddy's Day, I was happy to head home early. I was pretty tired after three days of shooting with a documentary crew (which is at least more fun than a film or television crew), and after spending the entire morning taping inside a mosque, St. Paddy's Day seemed to lose some of its lustre. Today was, however, the third day of March Madness, we were finished early, and with 16 games on television part of me did want to sit, drink, eat and be with friends while watching the games.

Standing on the subway platform waiting for the E train to take me back towards Brooklyn, I literally turned around and walked to the opposite side where the cross-town E train was arriving--I would head east instead, and up to Dive 75. There, I could sit, drink, eat and, since Steph was working, have a friend to keep me company while watching the games. Perfect!

Now in the best of all possible moods, I arrived just in time for the last half of the Ohio State game. I quickly lost my appetite upon realizing OSU was losing by ten with a few minutes remaining, but shock and horror turned to disbelief as they rallied (and won in overtime), my appetite returned, and in this way Steph and I came to order some pizza.

Patsy's is arguably New York's greatest slice of pizza. There are personal favorites in every corner of the city, but it is generally agreed upon that either Patsy's (with a few locations scattered about Manhattan) or Grimaldi's (in Brooklyn, tucked away in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge) is the absolute tops.

We ordered a small white pizza with garlic and an order of fried zucchini and eggplant (which Patsy's will deliver until early evening, but check their website for locations, hours, etc. and remember that it's cash only.) We ate everything. And while I don't usually write about bars, technically Dive 75 does leave copious amounts of candy sitting about in martini glasses, which counts as food. They also let you have food delivered to the bar, which facilitates eating.

Aaron joined me for drinks later on, while Steph finished her shift and headed home for a bit. We proceeded to get ever-drunker, called Steph, and decided to all meet Mint and Natasha for dinner around the corner at Jacques-imo's.

Jacques-imo's is New Orleans food at its self-proclaimed most authentic, though I question that slightly. The food was good, but inconsistent. The fried green tomatoes were a bit stale, but the calamari was soft and damn good. My shrimp creole was way overcooked, but Mint's fried chicken was huge, audibly crunchy, and looked amazing. Aaron was wasted.

Our waitress clearly got a kick out of us, and decided to bring us key lime pie and a round of green shots to celebrate, then sat down and enjoyed them with us. Aaron was still wasted. Of course, I then spilled an entire drink on myself. So, you be the judge. All things considered, it was better than taking the E train home.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Patsy's, yes; Dive, weekly: Jacques-imo's, maybe, but only if our favorite waitress is working.