Mint's Birthday: Putting On the Ritz

Regional
2607 Broadway
New York, NY 10025
(212) 666-1915
regionalnyc.com

Mint passed by Regional's wide open windows a week or so back and immediately dubbed it as her birthday brunch spot. The menu seemed reasonable, but Mint knew it would take more than pancakes and nice prices to draw even a few friends to the Upper West Side. Unlimited mimosa refills? Yup, that'll do it.

Joined by Ms. Reeves, Ms. Fader and Sir Hitchcock, things got off to a shaky start--ordering took forever, the mimosas were apparently stuck in weekend traffic at the bar, and the first plate to emerge from the kitchen (less than a minute after ordering, mind you) was a five-inch plate with six pieces of bacon lumped together in a hilariously disgusting log of lukewarm pork. At this point, fearing how things might possibly go worse, we called over a manager who, mimosas in hand, scowled at our bacon log, apologized, and disappeared with it into the kitchen for we assume was a little pep talk. It must have been a good one. From that point on everything was top notch.

After strolling around Central Park for a few hours (pictures above by Ms. Reeves), a squealing Mint was presented with tickets to Young Frankenstein. With curtains going up in less than two hours, it seemed like a good time to grab a light dinner. Bello Giardino more than sufficed.

The show, a Mel Brooks adaptation of his classic film starring Gene Wilder, was faithful to its silver screen forbearer (or so I'm told) and charged with plenty of tongue-in-cheek asides and sexual escapades. This is Mel Brooks, after all. The elaborate sets were changed up frequently and disappeared entirely for a rousing rendition of "Putting On the Ritz," which showcased the comically ernest vocals of a muttering, stuttering Frankenstein and a chorus of boot-clad, Franken-faced tap dancers.

The evening was capped with an obligatory candlelit cupcake, chocolate, with Entenmann's Halloween-orange frosting and candy corn. And in case you were wondering, zero trans fat.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Any place that sets a pitcher of mimosa on your table free of charge is okay in my book.

Nita Nita: Learning to Love "Tapas"

Nita Nita
146 Wythe Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 388-5328
nitanitabk.com

After more than a requisite number of trips to Madrid in one lifetime, I have a soft spot in my heart for Spanish culture and nothing sends that heart into palpitations quite like a restaurant serving appetizers masquerading as "tapas."

If the French began piling beef on a croissant and calling it a hamburger, Americans would be outraged, right? If we Americans started freezing fish on rice and selling it in supermarkets to be deep-fried into sushi, the Japanese would all-out invade us, right? So, I find the co-opting of an inherently Spanish tradition to fuel sales of small-portioned food a rather annoying excuse for culinary innovation. For crying out loud, American culture spreads like a virus that no amount of orange juice and chicken soup can stop. You'd think, at this point, that we could just make up food 'cause we feel like it and call it what it is. It worked for Jimmy Dean, I'm pretty sure NYC restaurants could pull it off too.

Well, Nita Nita missed my memo.

Roxie coxed Mint and I out to this new Williamsburg spot, which we found absolutely packed on a Friday night. The drink specials were few, but stellar. Mint, who doesn't usually opt for oddly-contrived creations, ordered a pumpkin martini of remarkable substance--with actual pumpkin puree in the mix.

The "tapas" menu, aside from olives, chorizo, and a plate of garlic shrimp, hardly hinted at Spanish anything. And yet, I was impressed. The mojo potatoes, suggesting perhaps bravas inspiration, arrived quietly herbed with a bit of spice. Not bravas, but not bad. Nita Nita's bar pizza was a simple, crispy crust with superbly fresh tomato sauce and glowing white melted mozzarella. The specials were far more creative--salmon served with fried herbs of its own (a curious twist) and champagne-doused pears with biting blue cheese and shaved dark chocolate. Decidedly some of the most memorable creations I've had in a while, I'll grant Nita that much.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: At the end of the day, I still question invoking the Tapas Gods, but I will surely return. What can I say? Good food is good food.

Photo courtesy of Nita Nita.

Dinner And A Movie: Samurai & The Darjeeling Limited

Samurai
149 N. 6th Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 302-6232

Roxie had suggested a pre-movie visit to Miyako (not the first time she had suggested the Williamsburg Korean-Japanese joint), but we found it closed upon our arrival and our hopes of bi bim bap dashed. So, we wandered down North 6th and into Samurai.

Without much time to spare and all seats filled, Roxie and I settled in at the empty sushi bar, ordered ourselves some food and quickly chose a bottle of sake. Perhaps for keeping them company (or perhaps this is customary at Samurai, I'd never previously been), the sushi chefs offered us a small plate of marinated seafood, which reminded me quite a bit of the pulpo gallego (substitute seaweed for potatoes) found all over Spain at tapas bars both big and small. Mmmm, nostalgia is tasty. The sushi, too, was tasty, certainly not of excessively large cuts as is so often the case, and paired with nicely, subtly sweetened rice.

After grabbing a box of Pocky to go (figuring Mint needed something for movie munchies), we met the aforementioned Mint in Union Square just in time to grab icees and seats for The Darjeeling Limited.

Wes Anderson's latest film has all the look and feel of, well, a Wes Anderson film, methodical, purposeful, and incredibly thoughtful. The weight of thoughts and internal struggle figure heavily in Darjeeling's plot, even as its characters, three brothers, Francis, Peter and Jack, "on a spiritual journey", abandon those emotions externally. The result is a film that flaunts its metaphors as freely as the brothers toss around their dead father's Louis Vuitton luggage, and which says as much absent certain words than in those said.

The story is simple enough, trials of loss and insecurity told in Anderson's whimsical fashion, but I imagine for some the privileged air of the brothers' lives is too obvious and out-of-reach to allow the story resonate. Perhaps that life (and our resulting contempt of it) is part of Anderson's point, to force us to dispense of our objections in accepting his characters for being only as flawed as we all are. Or, it's just a convenient and pretty motivation for the plot. One never knows.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Sure, I enjoyed the friendly reception; let's make an agreement: see Hotel Chevalier before seeing Darjeeling Limited. (Note: Hotel Chevalier is now showing exclusively in theaters in front of The Darjeeling Limited.)

Mike Eats Greenpoint, Volume 2.1: Sapporo Haru, Revisited

Sapporo Haru
622 Manhattan Avenue
Brooklyn, NY 11222
(718) 389-9697

THREE REASONS WHY this topic is worth revisiting:

First, the original MEF! post on Sapporo was anything but comprehensive.

Second, there is now an over-abundance of sushi places in Greenpoint, all within a few blocks of each other, which only furthers the debate about where to purchase one's raw fish around these parts. Sapporo Haru and Wasabi were both excellent choices when they were the only games in town. Ah, but for progress. A couple of upstarts makes the decision tougher, the debate worth clarifying.

Third, in light of a recent conversation with Kevin (note: the two of us are no masters of sushi knowledge, unless Kevin is keeping something from me), expectations have been raised. It was pointed out to me that perhaps the test of good maki is whether or not each of the roll's individual pieces is distinguishable in texture, flavor, etc. An excellent point. Kevin finds that Wasabi's chefs do a better job of accomplishing this feat than do Sapporo's.

Roxie, on a recent trip; ume shiso roll as it should be, top

I have no desire to eat at all of the sushi newcomers and mainstays in Greenpoint to determine which is tops. That's expensive, people. I've been going to Sapporo for a little over three years now and I have no plans to stop. I enjoy the menu, I find the fish to be fresh, the service to be warm (on occasion hilariously erratic), and the prices to be reasonable. The green tea has the flavor of toasted rice, and the miso is exceptionally sweet without being salty. The waitress calls me "sweetie." That's enough for me.

That said, my ume shiso roll arrived with pickled plum paste rather curiously plopped atop my roll rather than inside it (see detail, left). I've never had that happen before. I can't explain it. My Brooklyn roll, which involves fried mint leaves and spicy tuna on the outside, arrived as Kevin might have predicted--a muddle of tastes (however delicious) with only the mint leaves recognizable by their crunch. Score one for Kevin.

It's enough to make me want to try Wasabi, just to see how the two stand up. But once, and only once!

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: Perhaps, just perhaps, at Wasabi.

Bi Bim Bap'd!

Miyako
143 Berry Street
Brooklyn, NY 11211
(718) 486-0837

THIS EXPERIMENT IS beginning to take on a life of its own. In the beginning, I held absolutely zero intentions for where Mike Eats Food! was headed (aside from maintaining its admittedly self-indulgent premise), and to date I've only paused on a couple of occasions to reflect on perks or bouts of nostalgia thus associated with its expanding niche in my life. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, indeed.

If I had to do it again, I might have reflected a little longer on the commitment to photograph and write about every meal, you know, before agreeing with myself to do it. I certainly think myself was a little hasty in talking myself into this mess but as I told Aaron this past weekend after taking five pictures of a bowl of pad thai, "I've made my bed, and now I have to lay in it." Aaron remarked, rather sarcastically, that I had "found my calling." I think that might be a bit strong, but his point is pretty clear: for better or, mostly, I assume, for worse, the line between me and this blog is growing ever-thinner.

I'm not sure if I'm happy about that. But that's where I'm at. This was evidenced once again this evening as Becky and I were brainstorming to find a place for dinner before visiting Roxie, who was guest bar-keeping at Soft Spot. Roxie added to the conversation by email:

"Mikey is the one with the FOOD BLOG, so I'd let him take you somewhere. I do highly recommend Miyako, which I'm fairly certain Mikey doesn't know about. I could be wrong though...It's happened once before."

Thinking about it, I actually can't come up with time that Roxie has been wrong, and she wasn't wrong tonight either. Miyako, and it's equal parts Korean and Japanese menu, turned out to be a great choice. Becky has been raving about Korean food since her relatively recent trip to Seoul, and I still hadn't tried it myself. I don't believe Mint had either. So, ignoring Miyako's Japanese half (and Roxie's actual recommendation of sushi), Becky, Mint and I sat down for kim chee.

We ordered our kim chee, a.k.a. spicy cabbage, served up both cold and cooked in a soft pancake-type dish, pah jun. While the red pepper sauce on the kim chee could certainly have been spicier, I cannot imagine a more enjoyable start to the meal than the pah jun. I could have eaten the stuff all night, a point I repeatedly made clear to the amusement (and/or annoyance) of Becky and Mint.

Mint ordered for an entree ginger tofu; Becky and I ordered variations of tofu bi bim bap, hers served warm in a large bowl, mine in a cast iron pot, a dish called dol sut. I imagine the difference in taste was negligible, though the egg that arrived fried atop Becky's dish was poached atop mine. We poured our sesame oil and hot sauce over the neatly-arranged tofu, mushrooms, carrots, cabbage, and sprouts and stirred the concoction together, digging up from the bottom of the dish the rice and noodles, mine slightly burnt and crispy as they should be from the sizzling pot. (I think Mint kind of wanted to have fun stirring her dinner too, but ginger tofu is sadly not something you want to smash up with a spoon.)

Left to right: Bi bim bap; Food, all stirred up; Sushi? What sushi?

I can see myself really enjoying bi bim bap in the middle of winter, hunched over its steaming pile of deliciously dislodged ingredients and hiding from the cold. That said, I can see myself really enjoying bi bim bop anytime. Filling and nourishing, it's a fantastically unceremonious meal--how formal can you be when mashing up your dinner?--and it makes for a friendly table.

From Miyako, we headed up to Soft Spot, a bar Roxie is fond of frequenting. Tonight, however, Roxie was on the other of the bar serving up 2-for-1 happy hour specials (7 to 8 p.m.) as a guest bartender. The guest-tending spot is filled every Wednesday by a different invitee, as the Spot Spot is big on nightly draws (and tasteful nudity, left). For example, on Tuesday the happy hour special is extended all night, on Saturday and Sunday a bloody mary special is extended all weekend, and on your birthday you drink for free (yes, ID required). You can see why Roxie digs this place. And Roxie is never wrong.

MIKE EATS NEXT TIME: He wants to eat there again already. Too soon?

Thanks to Jeanie for pointing out a few omissions in my description of dol sut bi bim bap.

Have We Discussed Brooklyn Label?

AT THIS POINT, pledging my undying love for Brooklyn Label comes as no surprise. We've discussed their brunch, their unbelievably delicious (and dangerous) ketchup, and even dropped a mention of their rich hot cocoa. How about lunch? With Roxie moving back up to the 'Point this week and specifically requesting a new venue for eats, how could I resit a trip to the Label? I couldn't, that's how.

Roxie also plans on snagging a few of my basil plants when I thin them out,
which, as you can see, are currently only wee l'il sprouts

On this trip I finally managed to resist the pull of the breakfast menu, opting instead for a tempeh reuben sandwich. (Ironic, right, one day after declaring tempeh sandwiches unworthy of elaboration? Go figure.) The vegan/vegetarian friendly reuben rivals even that of Hana Foods, a whole, thick slice of tempeh grilled and joined on toasted bread with sauerkraut, sweet dressing, and the tangy touch of Label's house ketchup.

Roxie chose The Egg sandwich, a veritable three-egg spinach omelet between slices of Balthazar bread. Throw in an order of onion rings, tomato-basil bisque, and two orders of hot chili-spiced Mayan cocoa and you'll understand why I needed no dinner. I love Brooklyn Label, that's why. In fact, I'm certain I could eat my every breakfast, brunch and lunch there and never get tired of it. As for dinner, methinks a trip to Paloma is in order...