The Messy Epicure Takes Manhattan (and Brooklyn)

A couple weeks ago, I went on a four-day trip to New York. And as you might expect, I spent most of the time eating. Here’s a rundown of where I went:

Shake Shack. I rapidly learned that New Yorkers love standing in lines, and the line’s usually out the door at the several locations of this burger joint. We had a very late lunch at around 3:30 and the place was still full, though it only took 20 minutes to get our food. The burgers are excellent fast-food burgers, but the standout was the ‘shroom burger, a portobello cap stuffed with cheese, breaded, deep-fried, and slapped on a bun. Next time, I try the Shack Stack, a cheeseburger patty and one of those magical mushroom creations combined into a massive unholy saturated-fat demon.

Traif. Started by a Jewish chef with a serious love of pork (“traif” is Yiddish for “not kosher”), this Williamsburg joint is a place after my own heart. It serves a menu of small plates with flavors from around the world—pig is abundant but not the main focus necessarily. My fave was a dish of crispy pork belly, white anchovies, feta, and blistered shishito peppers. I dunno what it is about the small, sweet green peppers that are almost always served charred, but every time I’ve had them I’ve loved them. Birmingham chefs, take notice: Shishito peppers are the shit! Other highlights were an amuse bouche of sweet-and-savory strawberry gazpacho, the bacon-wrapped dates, and the rabbit pappardelle with pesto. Well worth a cab ride across the bridge to Brooklyn—the best meal of the trip.

Chinatown Brasserie. When I was growing up, my family would go into Chicago’s Chinatown on a Sunday morning for dim sum once or twice a year. I loved the carts piled high with mysterious dumplings, whose contents you didn’t know but which you enjoyed until you were stuffed. Nadria found this place online, with a review saying its dim sum dishes were some of the best around. We had a turnip cake, which came with a funky, fishy dipping sauce; soup dumplings filled with boiling-hot beefy broth; and some pretty tasty pork buns. Despite the name, the place isn’t actually in Chinatown—it’s not the authentic dim sum experience I remember, but the food was very good.

Asia Dog. This unique hot-dog stand sets up shop at different spots around town. I sampled it in the basement at the Brooklyn Flea, where there was an astounding array of ethnic foods for sale. As you might guess, it’s hot dogs topped with Asian condiments—everything from kimchi to Vietnamese pate. I sampled the Sidney, a dog with mango-red onion relish, chopped peanuts, and fish sauce. A bit too sweet by itself, but a generous squirt of sriracha on top balanced everything out and made it something I’m gonna have to try to recreate at home.

Ssäm Bar. Part of David Chang’s Momofuku empire, this place is famous for its pork bun, a tender, sweet, and unctuous chunk of pork belly served on pillowy steamed bread. It’s every bit as wonderful as I hope that sounds. For an entree, I had the duck, which comes roasted and sliced over some lentils. It was, well, meh. But Nadria won that meal, ordering the chinese sausage and rice cakes. You’d think this would be chunks of sausage with one or two big rice cakes, but the sausage is ground small and made part of a spicy sauce, and the rice cakes are tater tot-sized, crispy, and numerous. No idea how I might recreate this one, but if you’ve got suggestions, leave ’em in the comments. I also tasted the oddest thing of the trip here—a dirty martini made with pickled ramp brine. Imagine onion breath in liquid form, only that’s a good, refreshing thing. Really strange.

Milk Bar. Literally around the corner from Ssäm Bar, this is Chang’s dessert spot. The Crack Pie, a buttery confection on an oatmeal-cookie crust, is the highlight. It’s like a pecan pie with no pecans, only with a nice salty tinge and extra richness. Good enough that, three days after we got home, we cooked the LA Times‘ recipe for it. (It’s a damn good imitation, too.) The Compost Cookie, wrapper at left, has every possible cookie ingredient packed into it—oats, chocolate, butterscotch, pretzels, and, yes, potato chips. Tasty, but nothing compared to the Crack Pie.

Eataly. A massive Italian grocery store/restaurant started by Mario Batali and Lidi and Joe Bastianich, this place sounds pretty touristy, but it’s popular even among real New Yorkers. Birminghamians, imagine a V. Richards the size of a Wal-Mart. There are several prepared food stations—a raw seafood bar, a “vegetable butcher,” a roasted-meat station, a pizzeria—along with an astounding array of Italian foods. The meat counter was beautiful, with prices as high as you’d guess. We had a pizza with anchovies and black olives and an antipasto platter. They didn’t quite live up to our own Bettola (which is more praise for that magnificent restaurant than a dig on Eataly).

Esca. Sadly, our most expensive New York meal was also the most disappointing. The Midtown seafood restaurant prides itself on having the freshest items from all over the world. The service was pretty amazing, with a sommelier and two wait staff attending to our table of two, but the food wasn’t the best. We had the tasting menu—because, why not go decadent at the most famous restaurant on the trip? Of the six courses, three were delicious—a tuna crudo, soft scrambled eggs with black truffle, and a tropical pineapple cake with coconut gelato on top. There was also a monkfish liver dish with rhubarb and crack wheat, something I enjoyed—it’s the foie gras of the sea!—but Nadria was a little weirded out by.  Sadly, the two “main” courses were the worst: The mahogany clams atop linguine were overcooked and rubbery, and really, really salty, and a pan-roasted golden spotted bass was kind of flavorless.

Sarabeth’s. My sister called this Upper West Side spot the best breakfast in New York. She had recommended Traif as well, so we believed her. It’s a good breakfast, made well, but there was really nothing unique about the place or its food. Nadria’s lemon-ricotta pancakes and my omelette with bacon, potato, and cheese were both good (though expensive), but if you’re not already in the neighborhood, it’s not so much worth trekking to. And don’t be misled by the “pork and apricot sausage” on the menu—it’s plain ol’ breakfast sausage topped with apricot jam.

But this trip wasn’t just about eating. There was some drinking, too! As a good Liquor.com employee, I had to take advantage of New York’s amazing drinks scene. We went to three of the best cocktail bars in the country:

Death & Company. The menu here is an amazing sight—more than 50 drinks, all made with top-shelf spirits, fresh fruits, and an array of house-made syrups. Bartender Joaquin Simó wears old-timey suspenders and has a vigorous shaking technique that I can’t even describe—it’s worth spending half an hour sitting at the bar watching him work. (If you can get a seat; it’s a tiny, tiny bar.)

Pegu Club. After a trip to PDT—the bar I most wanted to try in the city—failed because the wait was too long, we took a long walk to this gorgeous SoHo establishment. The drinks menu and bartenders looked very similar to Death & Co., which is to say impressive, and skilled. More great cocktails, and no wait—the only place we drank without one.

Mayahuel. After a second attempt at PDT was unsuccessful (one-hour waits for a party of three on a Sunday and a Monday night! Criminy!), we tried this nearby tequila-and-mezcal bar. I am not normally a big tequila or mezcal fan, but the drink I had here was the best of the trip. It was called the Halldor Laxness (which, Google tells me, is named after a Nobel Prize-winning Icelandic author). I don’t remember what was in it, and the menu on the website doesn’t list it, but it involved smoky mezcal and sweet fruit juices in perfect balance. A-maz-ing.

It might be my own obsession with eating local, but I was under the impression that local was trendy everywhere. I mean, if it’s reached Birmingham, it must be nationwide, right? Not so much. None of the menus I saw in New York listed farms and ranches, something that’s pretty common here. It was kind of disappointing to see all the meats and fish imported from far away and out-of-season produce from God knows where.

But then again, it means Birmingham’s on the cutting edge of food culture. And that’s pretty awesome.

Thanks to Nadria Tucker (and her Instagram-equipped iPhone) for the Times Square and Compost Cookie photos above.