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Many of you seem to have encyclopedic knowledge as well as idiosyncratic opinions about the numerous restaurants in this town (and elsewhere). Why not share with the rest of us? (send your review to rolandsoong@centralparktc.org ) And you don't even have to be affiliated with our club to publish. Since we know that this website has a sizeable and fiercely loyal audience in New York City and all over the world, this is also a way of empowering consumers. Let your voice be heard! WHO: Roland Soong What do you suppose I would order? Readers of this page would know immediately --- Homemade Beer Battered Fish and Chips: Fresh Cod with Idaho Fries and Homemade Tartar Sauce. Yes, I am homesick for some good old fish and chips. Unfortunately, this was not good old fish and chips. Rather, the words that I am contemplating are 'travesty' and 'perversity.' First of all, the fish in 'fish and chips' is halibut. Where in the world does cod come from? Next thing you know, they will be serving hake! Second, the homemade beer in the batter was undetectable, which was just as well. Third, I don't object to Idaho potato as such but large thick undercooked potatoes are objectionable. Finally, and worst of all, the homemade tartar sauce was a salsa sauce! Pleeeaaaseee." WHO: Roland Soong The central question of Granovetter-Soong is this --- "How do you choose which restaurant to go into when you have no prior experience?" According to those two blokes, the standard strategy is this: "If it is lunchtime and nobody is in there, then it must be bad. But if there are lots of people in there, then it must be good." Thanks, but no thanks, because I am totally not enamoured of the idea of having some stranger eating at my elbow. Therefore, I went into the most deserted place that I could find at lunchtime. The first problem that I encountered was total linguistic confusion. Just like me, the staff was tri-lingual (that is, they speak Cantonese, Mandarin and Shanghainese) whereupon the dialects came out all mixed up. Final strategy --- use English! I got one order of Shanghai spring roll and one order of Shanghai style noodles. I must say that it was an unusual experience to have my appetizer arrive fifteen minutes after the main course. I do not blame the waitress because I could hear her quarreling with the chef about the tardiness of the order (note: she has no idea that I understand all three Chinese dialects and therefore her choice of phrases was actually quite 'unkind' in the sense that my mom would blush). Overall, the problem is that I think the dishes were transposed. First, I expect my spring rolls to be dripping in oil. It was actually under-saturated in that sense. Second, I expect my noodles to be greasy, but not swimming in oil. Shanghai-style noodle means that the thick noodles were stir-fried with vegetables, beef, pork and shrimp. The beef and pork were solid rocks, but the shrimps were delicious. So I will have to make a point of coming back next time for a shrimp dish. Why would I come back? Well, is it too much to ask to be able to sit and eat in peace and quiet?" WHO: Roland Soong This was a business lunch to which there was plenty of business issues to cover. So we opted not to even contemplate the menu and went directly towards the buffet table. This was not the Las Vegas buffet table that runs 300 feet long with infinite variety. Instead, there were only four hot dishes. Dear reader, you will be astonished at what the Yale Club serves --- dish #1 was fried catfish, dish #2 was corn grits, dish #3 was beef stew and dish #4 was chicken fajitas. This is very much school cafeteria food, which puts me totally at ease to deal with the business issues. All in all, it was excellent for the situation. The only very minor issue was that the waiter came over twice to ask for coffee orders. The regular reader of these reviews may profess to be shocked at the gentle treatment here. Actually, my reputation for being bitter and cruel is very much undeserved. In fact, I am exceedingly easy to please, as shown here. Of course, I am also exceedingly easy to offend, which is the point in many of the other stories ... I did not see any Central Park Track Club people in the dining room. The only person that I know is a Yale alumnus is Stacy Creamer. Here is a test of your mastery of the basic facts on this website: What was Stacy Creamer's sport at Yale University? (1) track-and-field/cross-country; (2) swimming; (3) fencing; (4) field hockey; (5) lacrosse. WHO: Roland Soong Blue Smoke is aimed at a different clientele and price range than the other Danny Meyer restaurants. The decor is undistinguished and attempted to simulate a working-class atmosphere. Since I am purely functionalist by natural inclination, this had no impact on me one way or the other. But it is remarkable for the amount of sunlight coming through the skylight. Open-pit barbeque spits are not permitted in New York City, but the Blue Smoke advertises an apple-wood grill whose exhausts are released through a fifteen-story high chimney. Nice to know this piece of trivia, but how does the food taste? The menu came in the form of one large sheet, with the food in front and the large wine/beer list in very small letters in the back. There are supposedly thirty different kinds of bourbon, but such indulgence is perhaps unacceptable for business. Lacking any specific local knowledge, I ordered the ribs sampler, which consisted of baby ribs, St Louis ribs and the salt-and-pepper Texas beef ribs. For the baby ribs, I cannot tell the difference with the generic spare ribs doled out at Chinese take-out restaurants. It was a lot of work for very little return. The St. Louis ribs were heftier, but they were quite dry to my taste (note: the natives will tell you that they are supposed to be dry). Finally, the salt-and-pepper Texas ribs were greasy and impossibly salty. By the way, the ribs sampler was the most expensive dish in the house, at a hefty $22.95. All in all, this place cannot touch the last place where I had ribs --- the Bâton Rouge on Yonge Street in Toronto (see the restaurant review near the bottom of this page). My only wonder is how do the ribs at the famous Charlie Vergos' Rendezvous restaurant in Memphis taste like? My lunch companion had pulled pork in a sandwich, which she says that she brings them back in coolers every time that she goes back to visit. She was hoping that there would be a local restaurant that will save her that effort, but she admitted that she was quite disappointed." WHO: Toby Tanser After questioning, and receiving affirmation of a quantative size, the cheesecake was delivered with a halved strawberry. Nice, but not a Juniors nice - more of a clean cut. All in all though a very pleasant experience. The staff were informed, polite, and never in-your-new yorker face. 8/10 rating. WHO: Toby Tanser Starter:
Coffee (nothing to write home about, even on a postcard!) All in all I'd only return with the cheesecake in mind. But then again we're not in Georgia, and one does have delectable choices in the Big Apple." WHO: Toby Tanser WHAT HE WROTE: As
my body fat index has sunk below the 20-index (sweat, blood, and
the liposuction unite), I have found myself eating in the heslthy
eateries of New York as
opposed to the 'Feed Me Mama' style Italiano's that litter Manhattan
like maggots around a corpse. (There is a great eating analagy).
FAVIA
WHO: Robert Cardarelli We were a party of four for lunch,
marked by the obvious absence of the conscientious objector from
our office. Our Mexican colleague ordered
a chicken sandwich, as opposed to a three-course meal, since she
was not particularly hungry. Along came a sandwich --- one
that could feed an entire Mexican village! We ordered a side
of rice and beans to share - yes, that's right! - the US$5 rice
and beans side order. Why was I the only one who tasted them?
Well, my 'sharer' made a face that clearly expressed, "I wouldn't
touch that stuff with a 10 foot pole!" For US$5, according to our conscientious objector, you could buy rice and beans to feed a family of five for a week in El Salvador. He insisted that one can only feel guilt when seated at Patria, thinking of the family back home. On the basis of the steep price and the fact that he could only see 'white businessmen' as clients in the restaurant, he had concluded that the food 'sucks.' To him, this was a proven point and he never felt the need for verification. So now the objective was to get him to try the food - but how??? I got half of my unfinished sandwich and my Mexican colleague's portion of the rice and beans wrapped up "to go". We now had a plan to trick our conscientious objector into sampling the inauthentic Latin American food. Upon his first bite of the sandwich, he remarked, "Not too bad." Once we got him to work on the rice and beans, we explained the source of the food. In quick time, he then insisted that the food --- sorry for the blatancy --- "sucked." If the objective was to get our
conscientious objector to admit that this food was good, this was
an abject failure. We expected nothing less. But if
the objective was to watch him perform according to the script,
it worked perfectly. We expected nothing more. As for my entrée, it was the traditional "Sandwich Cubano" (for US$10). Truthfully, it was all right. The portion was generous and, as you know, I was only able to eat half of it. I've had much better (and cheaper) "Sandwich Cubano" elsewhere. To this day, you cannot top the flavor (literally, the sandwich is about three inches thick) and grease level (literally, pure pork fat) of the Cuban sandwich at Sergio's in Coral Gables, Miami, Florida. Now that is authentic! (Editor's note: Ah, yes, another one of those out-of-town restaurants that our readers will never get to visit!). My two other companions both ordered
the $20.02 prix fixe three-course lunch. Our regular food
critic was initially seen rummaging through the ceviche appetizer
looking for any hints of the shrimps and he was last seen trying
to divide his chocolate dessert among the rest of us. WHO: Toby Tanser Cafe Mozart, a small upper West Side cafe, has a lot to answer for in the Fat Journals of my side tanks. During my fall of 2001 (where running became a horizontal challenge and my inspiration skipped to a zone outside of the Atkins) I often found myself at a table gourging a couple of mountainous slices of Cake. Such was there choice, and my indecision being what it is, I ended up with the double take - I hate making the wrong choice, so a slight hedging would always win the bet. Anyway this review is not about the Cakes - I do not recommend any one to eat the sugar bombs who cares a zip about their gizzards and fat tanks. It is about breakfast! The Breakfast starts the day, and it is the last cog of Cafe Mozart for my own experiences. I started with the late night cakes, tried the brunch lunch chicken wraps (also not really rateable), and now turn back a full key to breakfast. Sampled was the Bagel with cream cheese, served with a slight salad of lettuce, onion, and tomato. Also the bagel with Jelly. The bagel is not to be recommended - this place makes its own cakes, I was duped into thinking it may make its own bagels - it does not. On a rating for a breakfast I would give this place a 4/10 APART, that is, from the coffee. The coffee, and we asked for the strongest possible, was ok. Quality yes, satisfying yes, as good as a Starbucks? Niet. Thus it is with great regret that I give Mozart a thumbs down for the Breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner (yes, I have tried their cooking too), and cakes. WHO: Roland Soong As a three course prix fixe lunch, we could choose among four appetizers (one soup and three salads), four entrées and four desserts. All of this was supervised by an 'executive sous chef', which is a title that no one of us could define. Since McDonald's was always an option afterwards, I thought I might as well as take some venturesome risk. For appetizer, I skipped the three salads (How good/bad can rabbit food be?) and went for Phet's Laotian Coconut & Sweet Potato Soup. I don't know who Phet is, and I am not familiar with Laotian food, but I do know that potatoes provide a creamy texture in soup and that coconut provides a sour flavor. I posed this question to the one other person at my table who had the soup: "Would you pay US$6 for this bowl of soup? or would you rather have Campbell's?" Answer: Campbell's, and unequivocally so. Meanwhile, the answer to the apparently rhetorical question: "How good/bad can rabbit food be?" drew the answer, "The greens were good, but they used far too much vinegar." For the entrée, I skipped over the very obvious salmon, chicken and vegetarian dishes and went for Bi Bim Bop. I had no idea what that was, except for the fact it was supposed to be barbeque short ribs and Korean rice pot. This turned out to be the worst of both worlds. The barbeque ribs had very little meat, so that one has to work hard, first in separating the meat from the bones and then continue to separate the cholesterol-busting fat. The little meat that I could find was extremely salty, as if someone was taking revenge on the 'No Sodium' movement. Meanwhile, the rice pot had sticky rice and some vegetables and tasted slightly sweet. Salt and sweet do not go together well. For the record, everyone else who had the other dishes said that they were quite satisified. However, this is only hearsay; besides, they do not have my exacting standards. For the desserts, I decided that I could no longer afford to take risks, and opted for an assorted ice-cream (pistachio, chocolate and vanilla). The beer was Kirin Ichiban, which obviously has to be the number one beer from Japan. My beer order took ten minutes to show up, and made me wonder if they had to run down to the deli to buy it. I will also say a few words about the restaurant, which is situated in a what must be a converted townhouse. The dining room was on the third floor, with a sky light. There was not much of a sky to begin with, given that the two buildings on both sides are much taller. Shortly after we arrived, they had to pull the shades in to block the noonday sun. We can imagine that there is not much of a night view either. This is a case where the architectural design runs up against the Reality Principle. GRAD-STUDENT
DECONSTRUCTS TAKE-OUT MENU: This article about a Mexican
restaurant take-out menu is best appreciated by those (like us)
who were Deconstructivist graduate students (... and who wasn't?)
once upon a time. WHO: Roland Soong
WHO: Roland Soong We walked in and there were some empty tables. We were seated immediately, we got the menu and I asked my companion what he had in mind. That was when I realized that something was terribly wrong. He could not hear me. In fact, I could not hear myself either. The place was very noisy because everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs. This is a mystery because this was not a particularly large restaurant, and why do these people need to come out to a restaurant late on a rainy night in order to yell? This place ought to be cited by the EPA for noise pollution. Given there it is advertised as an 24/7 operation, I am curious if the din is just as loud at 3am. I really don't think it had anything to do with crowd size. I suspect that this place induces shouting in a natural manner. We were greeted by a snooty waiter dressed in black. He took our orders eventually, and promptly went back to standing in the back to chat with his cohorts. He obviously had nothing to do with food serving, which was handled by Mexicans who did not do any talking. This arrangement seems to be frequently encountered in New York City restaurants nowadays. Lest you misunderstood our position, please be assured that we are not complaining. This website is completely dependent on the generous donations of money and human resources from Latin American companies and we want to see Latin Americans everywhere. We wish to point out that, as in the case of the maquiladora factories along the Mexican border, top management is going to realize sooner or later that middle management is redundant! Ah, we digress, so let us get back to L'Express. In this case, the Mexican server actually talked because we heard him muttering (obviously it must have been very loudly in order for us to hear him in this environment) "¡Puta de mierda!" after he had just served two women at the far end of the restaurant. About the food. My order was grilled lamb chops with spinach and mashed potatoes. After my Cannes experience, this might seem to be risky behavior. Still, this was the result of much agonizing because the damage looked relatively minimal. As it turned out, the grilled lamb chop was pink and tender, nothing at all like the Australian precept that "A good lamp chop is a dead lamb chop." The mashed potato was objectionable because I don't like potatoes which are dripping; ditto, the spinach. My colleague had chicken cordon bleu, which he rated as excellent. The food did take quite a while to show up. If the Mexican food server did say anything, it was out of earshot. The beer was Stella Artois (Belgium). This totally reminds us of the comparative advertisement on the phone booth around the corner: 'An imported beer from Belguim costs $8. Michelob costs $1.95.' This Stella Artois costs only $6, but does not justify the premium over the Michelob." WHO: Roland Soong
Once again, I made my annual trek to some exotic place in the world and here are my observations. Although I had my little digital camera with me, I did not always remember to record every interesting thing. Therefore, our readers will sometimes have to use their imagination. SATURDAY: The smart thing to do is to take the Delta direct flight from New York City to Nice. Everyone else who went through London or Paris seems to have their luggage misplaced. It was a smooth 6-1/2 hour flight with one dinner served. The appetizer portion consisted of smoked salmon cheesecake topped with salmon caviar, sliced gravlox with dill presented with cucumber caper relish and lemon, a salad with Santa Fe dressing and focaccio bread. For the entrée, I chose the coastal Mexican dish of grilled marinated snapper with tomatillo and cilantro sauce, pepita rice with red and green pepper medley. The dessert was a vanilla ice-cream sundae. I rate the appetizer as delicious (dear reader, did you ever imagine that there would be a day when I used that word?); the snapper was a bit dry and probably not a good idea as airplane food; and the dessert was naturally sweet. The wine was a fine pinot grigio. Had I gone to a New York City restaurant, this meal would probably cost around $50. But considering the cost of the airplane ticket, this was still not worth the money. After the night flight, we were served a breakfast. Compared to the dinner, this was singularly uninteresting --- fresh fruit, croissant , Kellogg's cereals, onion/cheese omelet, grilled turkey bacon and roast potato. We landed in Nice International Airport, and we took an expensive 30km cab ride to Cannes. Cannes is located in the Côte d'Azur region of France and it is BLUE as this picture of the Cannes beach front shows. The conference center is located at the Noga Hilton hotel, which is the building with the green exterior glass windows in this photo. There are some truly magnificent hotels (such as the Carlton Hotel, the Hotel Majestic Barriere and the Hotel Hermitage (Monaco)) in this area. By comparison, the Noga Hilton has a retro-1970's architectural style (see the ceiling in the lobby) even though it was erected in 1993. Each floor has its own color theme, and there is even a floor with tangerine orange plastic walls. We were here between the Cannes Film Festival and the Cannes Lions Awards, so the extracurricular activities seemed to be non-existent during the lull. One event that I was glad to miss was a special appearance by Glamour Puss! This is the view from the Noga Hilton rooftop looking down the Boulevard de la Croisette which runs parallel and next to the beach. The entire length of this boulevard is occupied by beachfront hotels. This is the view looking out to sea. The fact that the beach is lined with rows and rows of unoccupied beach chairs reflects the fact that each hotel has its beach front set aside as private areas. Patrons get to use the beach for a fee of around US$25 per day. At the very far ends of the beach, there are small public beach areas where the lumpenproletariat have free use. Behind the hotel row on La Croisette, there is another smaller parallel street (Rue d'Antibes) filled with economy-class hotels. Beyond that street is yet another parallel street with hotels that are even more 'moderately-priced'. The street fronts here are lined with the usual assortment of tourist traps. This being the Côte d'Azur, it seems like every other establishment is a real estate agency. In summary, our overall impression of Cannes is two words: 'Jersey shore'! And we are talking about Ashbury Park and not Cape May.
SUNDAY: Since the events do not begin until Sunday evening, it was time for a daytime excursion. There was no point in exploring Jersey Shore, so we hopped in a car and drove to Monaco. This is the place of palaces, casinos, yachts, high-rises and no-taxes. We are definitely getting up-scale here. This city is built vertically upwards along the cliffs from the harbor, so one odd feature is that there are gares (stations), which are not the usual underground subways but instead they are for the ascenseurs (elevators) to move up and down. When we got there, we found a parking garage. As we got out of the car, we worried about remembering the exact parking spot in this multi-storied underground facility. The solution was easy, for I took a picture of the car and the spot number (404) and we could always play back the picture if we needed to. Monaco is famous for the Monte Carlo Casino, but since the words Monte Carlo is giving a bad name to statisticians, I will not publish any pictures here. Instead, I will show you something a bit more risqué that was right in front of the Casino. Since one of our party is of Italian descent, we thought it would be nice to be able to say that we had lunch in Italy. So we fetched the car (from spot #404) and we drove towards the French-Italian border. This was an easy ride on the A8 expressway which goes through a number of tunnels. There was in fact no border checkpoint and we realized that we crossed into Italy only because a road sign said so. We were not particular so long as we are in Italy. So we pulled into the first town. This is a picture of the town hall of Ventimiglia to prove that we were there. From the town hall parking lot, we walked towards the sea. This is the village on the other side of the footbridge, which is probably spectacular when the torrent comes rushing down when the snow melts in the Italian Alps. There on the beach, there was the La Sirena restaurant. This restaurant sign reads 'Restaurant / Pizzeria' and there was a Senegalese vendor who was hawking clothes brushes. When someone asked, "Do you think that this is a real Italian restaurant?" the rhetorical answer was "Why would any real Italian come here to eat?" In any case, the only important thing was to dine in Italy. I ordered spaghetti alla bolognese, so I can claim that I have eaten authentic Italian pasta (even if it was very much undercooked). We got back to the hotel late afternoon and we went through the registration process. Afterwards, there was a reception during which drinks and buffet-style food. That food would come to haunt us for the rest of the week. How so? Because the same thing (and it could even be leftovers from the day before, for all we know) would be served at lunch for the rest of the week. MONDAY: After a full day's of conference session, we took some clients out to the restaurant next door, La Festival. For appetizer, I had the Terrine de Foie Gras Frais de Canard Festival, which translates simply to home-made duck liver paté. Rather undistinguished, I must say. For entrée, I had Carré d'Agneau des Alpages Rôti, Gousses d'Ail Confites et Petits Farçis Provençaux, which was translated on the menu as 'Roast rack of lamb, garlic and petits farçis.' If you study the picture, you will understand why petits farçis is somewhat difficult to translate into English. The person sitting next to me ordered the same entrée, with an additional side order of French fries. I compliment the waiter for being totally unsurprised by that request. This dessert is not mine, but I would have died if I tried it. TUESDAY: Death, disaster and destruction as France bowed out of the World Cup in the first round after losing to Denmark.
For dinner, it was to be a quiet intra-mural matter among four people. Although the original plan was to scout the place for tomorrow night's dinner, we ended up in the back street behind the hotel instead. The restaurant La Mère Besson was right on the sidewalk, so that only a sheet of transparent plastic separated us from the vehicular traffic. It was not easy to eat when the garbage truck is parked next to you doing its business. When we walked into this restaurant, there was another group from the conference already sitting there. When they reassured us that the food was good, we sat down. Misery loves company, I suppose. I skipped the appetizer course, but here is the appetizer for someone else, alleged to be les endives et celeri à la <<bagna cauda>>. Do you see why I skipped the appetizer? My entrée was Le Magret de Canard au Poivre which comes with pasta in a sauce. Each piece of the duck consisted of the two parts --- one portion of pure fat and one portion of dried meat. In other words, it was inedible. The dining atmosphere was further ruined by a Latin American street musician parked behind me, crooning songs like Michelle. WEDNESDAY: The French took sweet revenge this morning. For us, this was a day for an internal company business meeting, but it was also the day when England played Nigeria. This was an important match, because England needed at least a tie to move into the next round and most of our group were Londoners. Therefore, we ordered a television set to be wheeled into our meeting room. We turned on the television set and ... surprise! surprise! surprise! ... we saw a bunch of yellow and blue jerseys! The French television channel TF1 was showing the Sweden-Argentina game instead! We were left with the spectacle of grown men looking at the text messages sent via a cellular phone by someone's girlfriend! With due respect, it was not very informative when there is no sound or video. Obviously, our Londoners were totally certain that the French had done this out of pure spite. This evening was to be our entertainment feast for our clients. As a global company, we were actually able to round up twenty-two people from this conference as our captive tasters. Where to go? That was not a trivial matter since the decision had to be made sight unseen from New York in order to make the reservation. Our original choice Villa de Lys (described as 'expensive' in the conference guide, but what do we care?) in the Hotel Majestic Barrière was unable to oblige such a large party, but they suggested that we could go to Fouquet's in the same hotel which shares the same kitchen. A visit to the website with a three-dimensional tour convinced us that this was a classy place. When we got there, we never made it into the luxurious carpeted interior seen on the website, as we were seated outdoors in the patio underneath a panoply. Immediately, one of our party jumped up and said that it was leaking water. Given that there has been clear blue skies for days, the source of the water was something of a mystery. But we had to all get up and move the tables to stay out of harm's way. We did not have a free choice from the full menu, but we did have something like one of three options. For appetizer, I chose Chicken Breast "Terrine" with Baked Streaky Bacon with Mustard Sauce (Laurent Gerra) (note: the menu was written in English for the ugly Americans/Brits). Rather undistinguished and impossible to finish. For entrée, I chose Undercut Steak "Simmental" with Shallots and French Fries. This was a serious mistake as the medium-rare beef was like tough shoe leather. A brief survey of all those who chose beef suggested that I would have needed to order 'rare with dripping blood' in order to get 'medium-rare' cooking. At this point, I regret that I did not remember that I had my camera to capture the forensic evidence. It was only when the chocolate mousse came out that I finally took a photo. After dinner, the troops went back to the hotel bar, where Patricia Kaas was not singing at the piano bar (note: the preceding phrase is meant to be a serious test of your cultural quotient, but at this moment I am listening to Patricia Kaas sing at the piano bar as I write these words). I don't remember much, but the bottles came and the bottles went. But somehow my camera captured a photo of a glass of white wine that was sent back, for which the waitress was rather snooty about. THURSDAY: Something happened last night that caused me to wake up this morning without my voice. Or rather, I sounded like a frog trying to croak. This was disastrous since I was scheduled to deliver a speech in the afternoon. It must surely have been a sign from above to punish me for ... what? ... writing bad food reviews! Fortunately, by late afternoon, I was able to discover a particular vocal frequency at which I can still perform. All went well and I justified my existence. And then it was time for another night out on the town. This time, it would be an internal company outing with about a dozen people. The leader of the expeditionary force chose Auberge Provençal in the old village area of Le Suquet. But we were informed that to get there, we had to walk through the 'bad' side of town right by the bus station. Fearing and loathing in Cannes? As we discovered, 'bad' here refers to a McDonald's with a public area up front in which scruffy characters hang out, drink, quarrel and fight. Is that all there is? And to think that I thought they were talking about the wild wild west, as in Union Square in the 80's ("Yo, man! Why 'choo walkin' thru here if 'choo ain't gonna buy no [name your drug]? Get the f*** outta here!"). Once we get past the bus station, we saw Le Suquet as a cobblestone pedestrian street lined with restaurants and tourist souvenir shops. So much for authentic French culture. Our restaurant was just a few steps up the hill, and we piled in. According to the menu, the specialty was Marseilles-style fish soup, but that would have been too risky to bet my life upon. So I had a Soupe de Poissons avec Croûton Dorés as a trial. Good thing that I did not get the real thing, because the brown soup was ... to quote from my favorite scene in Berlin Alexanderplatz ... dishwasser. For entrée, I had L'Aidi Provençal et Ses Légumes du Marché Forville. I was just pushing the food around with my fork and not making any progress. It got so dismal that I passed on desserts. I actually do not have a photo of food, but here is a photo of the lamb that my neighbor ordered. His comments: "Not what I thought it would be." By the way, here is a photo to remind everyone never to sit across me when I have a camera --- you may not be seen in the best light or angle, if you know what I mean ... FRIDAY: This is the last evening in France for me. Most of our team are UK-based and have already departed. This left a quiet evening for a trio of people. Not knowing any better, my two companions left the choice of the restaurant to me! Ha! Fortunately, in this case, I didn't know enough to do any damage. I looked at the list of restaurants recommended by the conference organizers, and I saw that there were two restaurants in Le Suquet, Auberge Provençal and La Mirabella. So the second one was it, especially given that my two companions had not been to the old town yet. So once again, I led the way to trudge through the 'bad side' of town and walk up the hill. La Mirabella was a few doors beyond our restaurant last night, and we sat outdoors to watch the tourists watch us eat. Given that the narrow street is built on a slope, there is this strange sight and feeling that all our plates and glasses were at an angle and threatening to tip over. No matter, because they must have figured out the physics given that this restaurant has been in existence for hundreds of years. For appetizer, I got Terrine de Queue de Boeuf au Foie Gras. I made that choice on a whim, never imagining that duck liver and oxtail would get along so well. For entrée, I chose Filets de Soles Farcies aux Saint Jacques avec Riz Basmati Façon Madras. This seemed risky given that the rice is obviously not French food. As it turned out, this was the best meal that I had during my entire stay. Perhaps this was because I am an easy person to please (ha!), and a slight change in pace (that is, smaller portions with a sauce that was less rich and filling) was enough to pacify me. The evening was then wrapped up with an ice cream to cement the sweet memories.
WHO: Roland Soong After having just spent one whole week in France, all I wanted was wholesome food. Before I even opened the menu, I moaned that this place did not offer good old American hamburgers. Actually, I was quite wrong, because "Grilled Burger with Lettuce and Tomato, French Fries. Choice of Bacon, Cheddar, Gruyere, Mozzarella" was available at a mere $9.50. But, of course, I would have to be out of my mind to have a grilled burger when corporate largesse is involved. So I ordered an appetizer of "Portobello Mushroom Napoleon with Warm Mozzarella, Grilled Vegetables and Aged Balsamic Glaze" ($6.95) and an entrée of "Sauteed Maryland Crab Cakes with Peruvian Potato Salad, Sweet Corn Sauce." ($14.95 for two crab cakes) The appetizer tasted mightily sour as if vinegar costs nothing. As for the crab cakes, I will have to say Mrs. Paul would have given them a run for the money ($3.25 for four). I left my peruvian potatoes alone because my Irish Catholic upbringing causes me to be suspicious about purple-colored potatoes. Elsewhere around the table, there were two orders of "Penne with Tomatoes, Basil and Ricotta Salata." You would think that two identical orders should look alike. In fact, that was not true since one of them had red tomatoes and the other one did not, and it was impossible not to notice the difference. An inquiry to the waitress brought an "I really don't know" but she eventually came back with a small plate of red tomatoes. Pepper and parmesan cheese had to be specially requested. I will also observe that there is a social stratification among the waiting staff. The waiters and waitresses all look like young East Village types but all they did was to take orders. The food was brought out by somber Hispanic males. In our case, the food server was looking at a piece of paper in which the places and orders were written down, but nevertheless managed to place all five orders in front of the wrong persons. At least he did not break anyone's windpipes when he reached across to pass the plates. Afterwards it was dessert time. The waitress cleared the table, and laid down five forks and four spoons. Oops! Someone apparently could not count up to five. Perhaps slightly flustered, she laid down the forks and spoons in different configurations: two sets with both pointing left, one set with both pointing right, my set with the fork pointing right and the spoon pointing left and the single fork pointing right. I am saying this only because I am quite obsessive-compulsive about such matters. I had a cappuccino instead of dessert. A crème brûlée was ordered by someone, but the sight of tiny green flecks sprinkled on the side of the dish was enough to freak my colleagues out. I have a number of different hypotheses about what they were, but I don't want to freak my readers out. But in spite of all this, I must dutifully report that one of my colleagues said, 'This place is worth coming back to ...' I also observed that the plates of my four colleagues were polished to sparkling sheen. As the French would say, chacun à son goût. P.S. On this occasion, I really regretted not having my camera with me. There would have been a marvelous photo of the fly nesting smugly in the bread ..." WHO: Roland Soong Meanwhile, my companion (who was paying the bill) looked at the menu and then asked the waiter, "I read about the tamales in the New York Times, but I don't see them in the menu. What gives?" The very perplexed waiter replied, "Tamales? We don't serve tamales here!" Immediately, the lady at the next table jumped up and said, "See! I also read about the tamales in the New York Times! See, I wasn't crazy!" So my comparion ordered a seafood roll instead (that is, another of those Latino-sushi fusion products). Eventually, a British-accented maîtresse d' drifted by to report that tamales will indeed appear on the new menu beginning next week, a fact that our waiter had not been aware of. So we were all right and none of us are crazy ... This restaurant was converted from a warehouse among other warehouses. The place was quite deserted during lunch time (namely, a total of four tables seated while we were there), so either it was still not well known or else it already has a reputation necessitating a new menu ..." WHO: Robert Cardarelli Let me start by saying this place has everything! It is a deli / pizzeria / salad bar / hotdog stand. Upon arrival, my friend informed me of a cheeseburger he had the last time he was there (which he estimated to be at least five years ago, if not more). "Do you want to see a hamburger that is made of 95% fat and 5% X?" he said. Daring as we were, we went right to the hamburger counter and ordered two of the "cheeseburger deluxe" specialties (only $4.50). As the hamburgers were being cooked, we observed the grease level rising on the grill as the cook fought a losing battle. As we were patiently waiting for the "fat burgers" from heaven, we were suddenly caught off-guard by the 3000-watt loudspeaker behind us announcing something in Spanish. Although I am a Spanish speaker, I could not understand a word of what was being said. All I could think of was being at a racetrack placing bets somewhere in Latin America. After we got our burgers, we kindly paid and went to the seating area upstairs. We sat near the back, next to the rear staircase. We noticed that there was an old deli counter resting on the last 5 (more or less) steps blocking the entrance. In case of a fire, do not use this staircase! It is a deathtrap! This has been a public service announcement from your favorite website. Now that we are eating our specialty lunches, we both shared a look after the first few bites. Simultaneously, we realized that we were already full! "Damn, this burger is filling", I said. My lunch partner replied, "Now I remember why I have not come here in the last 5 years." And it may be longer than that before we come back here ... Note: The name "My Cousin Vinny" has nothing to do with the movie starring Joe Pesci, nor was one Italian person working there." Historical note from Roland Soong: "I am the named friend who has lived in the neighborhood for twenty years. For the first ten years, I lived on 21st Street, so that this deli was the closest one. It was therefore odd to think that I had not been there for more five times in all those years. I do recall that the place used to called the Sunshine II Deli (note: it was easy to remember because I kept wondering where the Sunshine I Deli might be) and was operated by Koreans. Perhaps there is a demographic transition with Koreans being displaced by Latin Americans in the deli business. Have the Koreans all moved into the nail salon business?" Postscript: One month after this review, My Cousin Vinny was closed. Mere coincidence, of course ... WHO: Roland Soong On this occasion, we had just moved into the new office space at Park & 19th and this would be our initial excursion. To be fair, I have been living in this neighborhood since 1980 so this should have been my local haunt. However, I now live on 17th Street and my preferences tend to drift south (read: bohemian) and this area is north (read: gentrified). The location of the Via Emilia Restaurant used to be occupied by a Chinese take-out restaurant, whose best offering had been greasy fried chicken/fried rice. Now instead we have this moderately priced Italian restaurant. This yuppie heaven of a neighborhood promises to provide much to review in the future. Indeed, I have begun studying the menu of the next-door caterer (a place called Pain) and have made notes about the numerous spelling mistakes (in French, of course). Visually, Via Emilia is simple. On this sunny day, the windows were left wide open. Only two staff members were visible to wait on the customers, and the place was not crowded during lunch at all. I ordered pasta with salmon, asparagus and cream sauce. Too much oil in the sauce, I am afraid, as I could not finish the plate. My companion ordered two antipasta and polished both dishes off. More power to her. Oh, I missed that Chinese restaurant. Life was so much simpler back then." Postscript: John Prather complained that he could not tell from the review if I liked this place or not. The ambivalence was deliberate, as we reserve the opportunity to return to sample the very different dinner menu. WHO: Roland Soong There are in fact two different Sushi Sambas in New York City, with another one in Miami Beach. Our advance scout had gone to the West Village venue and came back with this report, "We had an eight o'clock reservation. But they made us wait for two hours before we got seated. The compensation was that we got five free drinks while we waited. By the time the food came, we had no idea what we were eating. But I promise I'll write you a restaurant review ..." Promises are of course made to be broken as we have never seen the said review. So on this occasion we went to the midtown south location instead (Park Avenue South and 19th Street). We had a 8:15pm reservation for a party of six to eight (two people missed the plane in London and never made it). As soon as we stepped through the entrance, I started my stopwatch. For the record, the official waiting time was 54 minutes 37.41 seconds with one (and only one) free drink offered. We will not pass judgment as to which was the better deal, but we suggest that any future plans should incorporate the fact that we went on a Tuesday whereas the West Village debacle occurred on a Friday. Because the place was packed, we were standing in the aisle between tables while we waited. This meant that we were effectively standing over people's shoulders, watching what they ate and listening to their conversations (which was obviously something that we were very good at anyway). Among many intersesting things, we observed a full explanation of body building by a young lady ... Oh, yes, we are supposed to be talking about food. The name Sushi Samba obviously invoke fusion --- Japanese and Brazilian (plus Peruvian). But that was not the way in which the food was structured. Rather, we had a choice of either Japanese sushi coming from the sushi bar or Brazilian fare coming from the kitchen in the rear.
Generally speaking, I must say that I failed to appreciate the point of this restaurant. This was not about the fusion of two distinct national cuisine styles; it was about offering two restaurants in one. Why wouldn't I go to a Brazilian restaurant for Brazilian food, and to a Japanese restaurant for Japanese food? Is this totally a concept sell, for it does appear to be immensely popular? P.S. Amazing restaurant website which puts our text-based website to shame. Although we don't have the mandate to review hotels, two out-of-towners offered these scathing reviews that we just couldn't pass ---
WHO: Roland Soong This particular trip was a junket arranged by a Canadian company. They paid for the airfare (Air Canada, of course!) and hotel lodging. I was treated to a business class seat for the air trip, with these special perks --- one muffin and one can of Coke when I left around noon on Sunday, and one bag of peanuts and one Canadian Molson beer on the way back on Monday night --- being covered by the fare of 1,568 Canadian dollars. Since I don't want to offend our Canadian triathlete teammates, I will say no more about their national carrier (note: there was a security breach as the ticket agent did not go through the 'Did you pack your own bag?' drill). I arrived early Sunday afternoon at the conference venue, the Marriott Eaton. The conference package says, "The conference hotel is immediately adjacent to the Eaton Center, the largest shopping mall in the center. If you can't find what you looking for in the three levels of the Eaton Center, it probably isn't available in Toronto. The Eaton Center is worth a visit ... it's really huge. The airport duty-free store has good, but not great, prices. The exceptions are cigarette and booze prices. For almost everything else, you probably will find better prices downtown in the Eaton Center." So I walked over to the Eaton Center to take a look, and found all the usual suspects --- Gap, The Limited, Banana Republic, the Sony Store, the Disney Store. Did I have to come up to Canada for this? Thankfully, there was no Barnes & Noble bookstore, because there was a local chain which looks just as much of a category-breaking brand-buster --- Indigo, which was most noteworthy for a wall with the big words "The World Needs More of Canada" and the names of famous Canadians (such as Céline Dion). I looked for a place in Eaton Center to grab a bite. I would not have minded a fancy, expensive restaurant because I was on expense account, but I couldn't find any in this place. After skirting by MacDonald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Arby's without stopping, I came to a food court. The first stall read "New York Fries" and served nothing but French fries. What a concept! How come no one thought of it in New York City? Next! Two stalls down, there was a 'London Style Fish 'n Chips.' Readers of this column will instantaneously recognize this as an offer that I can never refuse. I am afraid that I am sadly out of condition, because I can no longer handle the whole grease-dripping dish. Later on, it was out for dinner. After walking around the neighborhood in a cold drizzle, I just ducked into a restaurant named Bâton Rouge on Yonge Street. After the greasy fish and chips at lunch, I ordered no appetizer, no salad, no soup and no dessert. Dinner was just one full-pound of barbequed baby back ribs (described as 'legendary' on the menu) and two bottles of Molson Dry beer. The ribs came on a plate that measures one foot long, but the rack of ribs was actually about eighteen inches long (see photo below taken from their website). The photo showed the ribs with French fries, but I had a baked potato 'with everything' (cheddar cheese, butter, scallion, sour cream). When I saw the dish being presented, I thought I was doing to die from overindulgence. Twenty minutes later, the bones had been picked clean, and I was still alive. It's just that I don't know if I can run next week.
Monday was the main event. Breakfast was ... continental breakfast. Lunch was ... yes, you guessed it ... rubber chicken, which found me pushing the food around the plate with a fork and not eating much. And you have no idea how hard I had to work to earn my keep ..." REFLECTIONS: "Food reviews are now easier to write and more colorful because every restaurant seems to have a website ..." WHO: Jonathan Zuckerman Rating: B+ This promising new restaurant is quickly becoming a favorite of ours. It is located in the Trent Building in Irvington, a quick jog from the Irvington train station. Marybeth's opened in April of 2001 and will soon celebrate it's first anniversary. The menu is mainly American cuisine. They serve a soup of the day, plus a variety of appetizers, salads, and main courses. Dishes that we particularly enjoyed include the breast of duck with barbecue sauce, the rack of lamb with rosemary, the grilled salmon with pesto sauce, the mushroom strudel, and the onion and lobster tart with mescaline greens. They have only recently begun a pre-fixe dinner between 5-6pm. We especially enjoy the pre-fixe brunch served after noon on Sundays. For only $14.00, a diner enjoys a fruit cocktail, a basket of croissants, muffins, and rolls, and a choice from the menu which might include such favorites as 7 grain french toast, eggs Benedict, steak and eggs (good post race meal) or omelet of the day. The dessert menu, which omits Jell-O (my personal favorite) includes raspberry crepes, brandied apples over vanilla ice cream, and specials which vary depending on what is in season. We found the staff attentive and eager to please, and quite willing to make substitutions within the menu. WHO: Roland Soong This restaurant is located in the Daily News building on the eastside. Elsewhere, I have seen this location being described as the "Tudor City dining wasteland." Indeed, neither I nor anyone else in the office can name a restaurant in that area, much less know this particular restaurant. An immediate consequence is that this is not a midtown restaurant where people stand behind your back, waiting for you to finish. Indeed, the staff just pretty much left us alone for the two hours that we were there to talk business. To make sure that my afternoon productivity is not totally lost, I skipped the appetizer, soup, salad, dessert and wine. That leaves just an entree of grilled Chilean sea bass with roasted vegetable tart and basil potato puree. This cuisine style for this restaurant has been characterized as a 'traditional melding of traditional Tuscan and New American-Italian styles.' Indeed, nothing in the entree was what it seemed. The sea bass was extremely salty, and so I appreciate the staff for constantly replenishing my glass of water without prompting. The roasted vegetable tart looked and tasted like meat loaf, and the basil potato puree was soupy. Next time, I'll hold the New American-Italian style and stick to traditional Tuscani. |
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