Levain Bakery Cookies Are Not Cookie Cutter Perfect--They're Better

Levain Bakery - Upper West Side (Also in Harlem and the Hampton's)

167 West 74th Street

New York, NY 10023

My cousin goes down in the in Hall of Foodie Fame for this recommendation.

As though it were no big deal, she slipped in the name Levain Bakery over lunch the other day. Despite her lack of fanfare, I knew the bakery must be good for her to have mentioned it. I just didn't know just how good.

Having no prior knowledge of the Levain Bakery's cookies, my expectations were moderate, which is unusual in a city where every "hot" foodie trend spreads like a pandemic through Buzzfeed, Twitter, and casual conversation. But when I sidled into the line crowding to the door, I realized maybe this was a hot trend I had missed.

As a grab-and-go basement bakery, the queue moved quickly, ushering in the stalwart patrons who had been patiently waiting through wind and spitting rain. With the chocolate chip brioche out of stock, I opted for the double chocolate chocolate chip cookie, which arrived not warm but hot. Levain defies the flat, cookie cutter feel of chain stores (Think Mrs. Fields, if you dare make the comparison.) As with any fine work, the imperfections contribute to, rather than detract from, the brilliance. In the case of Levain Bakery, what you receive is a mildly misshapen, mountainous cookie that gets your hands messy and melts in your mouth--but I guarantee you wouldn't want it any other way.

After also trying the walnut chocolate chip (also delicious), I would recommend the double chocolate instead. The walnut cookie's sugar content carried a zealously sweet imprint of blanched sugar. Left unchecked, this sweetness becomes too overpowering to continue eating after just a few bites. In contrast, the bitter cocoa in the double chocolate chocolate chip enriches the dough and eliminates any trace of processed taste. Nevertheless, the cookie is rich enough that halfway through my chocolate cravings were satiated. In a moment of unexpected self control, I saved the rest for later.

And I am so glad I did. After a night in the refrigerator, a Levain Bakery cookie is still soft enough to sink your teeth into--like a block of fudge. It is the breakfast of champions.

Sake Bar Hagi Is A Thumbs Up Despite Times Square Locale

Sake Bar Hagi - Times Square

152 W. 49th Street, New York, NY 10019

I work in Times Square, which is immeasurably convenient when it comes to transportation (almost all the subway lines converge in that area), but inconvenient in almost every other regard. Once in a while I smile when I see Times Square as the backdrop to a Hollywood movie, which reminds me that my daily doldrums are other people's fantasies. However, most of the time the mess of tourists and overwhelming advertisements makes me curse Times Square (sometimes aloud). The mix of indecently high prices and blatant tourist traps also makes me steer clear of dining in that area; even after taking in a show I try to dine 5-10 blocks from the epicenter.

However, Sake Bar Hagi surprised me. Neither a tourist trap nor price gauge, this restaurant was mildly decorated and highly affordable. We settled in at the sushi bar with hope.

We had been lured there under false pretenses. As we were choosing a restaurant, my dining mate had seen a picture of salmon rice balls on yelp and became fixated. Yet one glance at the menu confirmed that this was an all-ramen joint with far fewer options than Yelp pictures promised.

Nevertheless, we each ordered a bowl of ~$10 ramen, which came with a more traditional wooden spoon and chopsticks, and began to slurp. Uneasy about the quality of the meat from the unconvincing menu photos, I had ordered vegetarian. Seeing the sliced pork in person quieted my qualms, but I was still happy with my choice. Hot, flavorful broth backed a medley of Asian add-ins--bok chou, seaweed, and a boiled egg in particular--which warmed my belly from the inside out.

In the Hell's Kitchen area there are two or three trendy ramen restaurants that almost always have a wait of an hour or more--no reservations or take out allowed. Sake Bar Hagi is no four star restaurant. These are not magic noodles. Yet, I was pleasantly surprised to find this little gem in proximity to Times Square. And, there was no wait to dine.

Radiance Tea House & Books Promotes Calm and Wellness

Radiance Tea House & Books - Midtown West
158 West 55th Street, New York, NY 10019

Radiance Tea House & Books channels the refined elegance of a traditional tea house at the foot of tea hills across mainland China. The slender menu book of teas contains a range from Chinese green, jasmine, or pu'er; to wellness teas that list a variety of health benefits; to teas of other origins, such as caramel Rooibos. Sit among the Chinese books--in both Mandarin and English--that you can peruse or buy while you sip tea in one of the few truly quiet spots you can find so close to Times Square. 

On the opposite side of its mini-library there is a small restaurant section. The menu has typical Chinese fare that holds true to origin while catering to Westernized palates--such as egg custards and hot and sour soup. Between the two of us, we ordered one "wellness soup", one green tea soba noodles, and one shrimp wanton noodle soup.

Goji berries, ginger, ginseng, and dates jived brilliantly in this small pot of soup (served with a lid to maintain heat) that packed bold flavor into a sweet, calming brew. No one flavor stood out boastfully, and whether placebo, mental satisfaction, or the true power of the ingredients, this soup managed to turn the tide for my fellow diner who had been feeling unwell.

The green tea noodles, served cold with chilled chopped cucumbers and a lonely bok choy, added substance to the small soup order. For me, I had my own wanton soup, which made the first bitter cold Fall day fade into the distance. The first slurp of soup disappointed me; but after a couple of stirs I awoke the seasonings that had settled at the bottom and could not have been happier with the order. Essentially, this was Grandma's Jewish Chicken Noodle Soup--except Chinese (and with shrimp wantons). Good for the body and the soul. 

We didn't have to get dessert (when do you have to get dessert?), but obviously we decided on a little something sweet to finish the meal. Splitting the mochi sampler was a strategic success--this much ground gluten is not a good idea for one person.

I'm not sure if my next dining experience will be with a friend for dinner or a good book for tea, but either way I look forward to it.

Cho Dang Gol: The NASCAR Experience of Korean Dining

Cho Dang Gol Korean Restaurant - Koreatown
55 W. 35th St., New York, NY 10001

The other evening I couldn't make up my mind about what to eat. I had been stressed and not feeling well, which put my emotional cravings in conflict with my physical best interest. Whenever in doubt about what to eat while living in Nanjing, I ordered Korean food. However, without realizing, I had somehow omitted Korean food in my culinary adventures in Manhattan. I decided to right this negligence with a trip to Koreatown.

Despite a small queue out the door of Cho Dang Gol just after 9 pm, once inside we were informed the kitchen would be closing imminently. Why would the kitchen close so early, especially with a full house and a line of eager patrons? I will never know. We could eat, the hostess told us, but only if we placed our orders while we waited for a table. The food would be served as soon as we sat down.

Typically at Korean restaurants, several small dishes of pickled this and fermented that come out first as appetizers--whether you order them or not--and are soon followed by the main course. However, all of our small plates, our main bibimbap and soup, as well as our waters and teas were served with NASCAR speed and coordination. A whirlwind of waitresses descended on our table, and five or six arms reached out to set the table, which was fully stocked mere seconds later. They rushed to the next table without a second glance.

Small dishes aside (not my favorite usually), the food satisfied all cravings. Just healthy enough to leave no regrets of indulgence, the soup and hot stone pot were both warm and filling. We enjoyed a brothy seafood soup with red droplets of spice floating at the surface that looked more ominous than they tasted. The bibimbap did not have the same look--Julianne vegetables atop smoldering rice, with a sunny egg resting on the surface--to which I grew accustomed in China. However, the bulgolgi (beef) and special Korean red sauce mixed into the pot in the perfect fusion of spice and natural flavors. (Several different waitresses had asked in passing if we would like them to mix the bibimbap for us. We politely said we could stir on our own.)

While patrons quietly dined, servers speed-walked through the path of tables and chairs like young boys who are scolded not to run at an indoor swimming pool. After asking for a fried egg to garnish my bulgolgi bibimbap, our waitress yelped acknowledgement in such a distressed way that I nearly fell over laughing at the comedic absurdity.

Halfway through the meal, a young female waitress check bombed us. In a drive-by deposit, she informed us that the register was closing. When we finally did pull out our credit cards, another waitress snatched the black bill book and scurried away. She returned with the receipt and two small glasses of heavily sweetened ginger ice tea for dessert.

The whole experience was cartoonish and absurd, yet still delicious. 

Share Sunday Morning With Strangers At The Greene Grape Annex

The Greene Grape Annex - Fort Greene
753 Fulton St., Brooklyn, NY 11217

Without looking at the weather report this morning I felt that change that comes with the first crisp morning of fall. And I put on a scarf.

I love scarf weather, not only for the endless ways to redecorate the same old jeans and tee shirt look without effort. To me, fall ends the laziness of summer, where heat and humidity hang too heavily. We are in a grace period of relaxed productivity, able to get out and enjoy the weather before the deep hibernation of winter sedates the city.

And coming to Annex Coffee this morning is yet another indicator of fall. Walking through the streets, people are out an about--in their sweaters and sunglasses--running Sunday morning errands. Here inside the Annex, I'm listening to loud 80s music and sipping a chai tea latte (a real one--not from powder--thank you very much). As I peer over my own laptop at the countless others who have newspapers spread, textbooks cracked, and laptops out, I see the laid-back work environment that connotes a Sunday in Fall.

Maison Kayser's French Breakfast Stands Above Hell's Kitchen Competition

Maison Kayser - Columbus Circle
1800 Broadway, New York, NY 10019
And other locations

Despite locations across the globe in metropolitan areas such as Paris, Tokyo, Hong Kong, Moscow, and New York, this French chain feels like a special local find. I've dined at the Columbus Circle cafe a couple of times, relaxing my own rule of thumb to taste as many of New York's culinary offerings as possible.

On a previous occasion, I sat in the cafe, decorated simply with odes to France, and ordered the Epinards & Chèvre Cocottes. A mini cast-iron pot arrived with a side of peasant bread. The breakfast consisted of egg and spinach drowned in boiling cheese, equaling a rich breakfast of indulgence in one small pot.

Saumon Fumé Tartine

Most recently, I sat outside in the roped-off sidewalk terrace to dine in the summer sun. My breakfast (above) looked just as full of sunshine.

Oeufs Bénédicte

Not a coffee drinker myself, I gravitate toward teas and particularly enjoy a chai latte as a special indulgence. Cafes and coffee shops too often concoct a lazy-man's version from powdered formula that bastardizes the tea and leaves me with a sickly sweet taste in my mouth. Is it too much to ask for steamed fresh milk infused with deep-brewed chai tea? Not at Maison Kayser. This was the perfect cup, garnished with a few shakes of cinnamon:

Chai Latte

Maison Kayser's prices are affordable but not a bargain. For the same $15-20 you could easily stuff yourself with heaps of pancakes or waffles in the depths of Hell's Kitchen and still have some wiggle room for a breakfast cocktail. But personally I don't mind substituting that big plate of waffle carbs for a charming and high-quality French breakfast.

And if you're on the go, Maison Kayser stocks a full boulangerie in the front so patrons can grab a beverage and pastry before heading up to Central Park...or wherever!

Put On Your Best Dress For Tea At The Lowell

Pembroke Room - The Lowell Hotel - Upper East Side

28 E. 63rd St., New York, NY 10065

Afternoon tea is served between 3pm and 6pm. Reservations recommended.

While still in the single digit years, I insisted upon having tea with my American Girl Doll at Colonial Williamsburg. On my first trip abroad to London I cajoled my father (or rather my mother, whose agenda was the same as mine, cajoled my after) into participating in British High Tea. While in Hong Kong I somehow managed to re-convince my father to partake in afternoon tea, this time in the famous Peninsula Hotel lobby. For my sister's bridal shower, I rounded up the talent of several family friends to throw a spectacularly lavish high tea, complete with crustless finger sandwiches, scones, clotted cream, and an assortment of chocolate-laced desserts. 

I can't put my finger on anything in particular that drives this lifelong interest in tea time. But, then again, why shouldn't I love it? If you don't have another excuse to get gussied up, put on your best dress and head to the Pembroke Room at The Lowell Hotel for a short entrée into elegance and luxury. 

With a pot of chai steeping by my side in a silver kettle, we tackled the three-tiered silver tray of finger sandwiches, tarts, and sweets. Like good girls, we started with our sandwiches before proceeding to "dessert". Once we made it through the cucumber sandwiches and triangular tartines with smoked salmon, it was a mountain of éclairs, berry tarts, iced cakes, and--my favorite--French macarons. 

For nearly three hours my friends and I sipped fine tea from finer china while participating in the age old tradition of social banter (gossip). It was nothing but lovely. 

A Meal At A Circus Never Tasted So Good

Circo - Midtown West
120 W 55th, New York, NY 10019

It's amusing walking into a restaurant in which men in nice suits and women in expensive cocktail dresses politely cut into small bites of lavish meals while sitting against a backdrop of clowns and dancing elephants. 

In Manhattan it would be easy to make a serious affair out of fine dining. From tight ties, to snobby sommeliers, to highly elevated culinary expectations, nice (read: $$$$) restaurants are often straight-laced to attract the high culture crowd. But at Circo, you can eat your hand-made pastas and perfectly seared meats under a circus tent canopy. So, I finally answered the question that I'm sure has been plaguing all of you for ages: fine dining is possible among eclectic sculptures of acrobatic men and whimsical paintings of circus performers.

As mentioned previously, I have had some poor luck picking meals for Restaurant Week specials. However, Circo maintained the utmost quality from starter to dessert. The beautiful beginning included a radiant appetizer of colorful salmon enhanced with citrus zest and topped with a dollop of goat cheese. The tiny red circles? They're red peppercorns. Don't worry, I didn't know what they were, either.

Medium-rare skirt steak followed the salmon. Surprisingly tender for that cut of beef, the strips easily cut into delicate pieces and took little effort to eat thereafter. This made it all the more difficult not to indulge so quickly, and before I was ready to say goodbye the beef was gone.

The only creative weak point in the restaurant's whole performance was in the sweet indulgence at the end. Mint panna cotta and gelato scoops don't pique my interest the same way as a cake, or a pie, or a torte. However, in absolute terms, these little sweets still ended the meal well.

At $38 prix-fixe for Restaurant Week, this dinner felt like a steal. Too bad Restaurant Week ended, otherwise I'd have made reservations at the parent restaurant, Le Cirque, already. 

Went to Butter to Take Advantage of Restaurant Week And Got Taken Advantage of Instead

Butter - Midtown West
70 W 45th St., New York, NY

I'm ashamed to admit that I heard of the restaurant Butter on Gossip Girl. I know that's somewhat unappetizing, but Butter has a good reputation in the city from what I've heard since, so I figured it was worth a shot. Plus, I walk past it on the days I decide to leave my office for food, so my curiosity had grown with every lunch break.

Sitting on a plush couch in the reception area piqued my high hopes. My lunch companion arrived, and the host escorted us past a station of exotic herbs and oils, through a series of dark shadows and heavy daylight cast by the big skylight that carves through the center of the dining atrium. Tall columns and images of oaks furthered the forest theme as we walked under canopy to a booth settled in the shadow. 

Immediately, however, the excitement of such a modern and stunning restaurant dissipated slightly with an awkward encounter with our waiter. A server had brought over rolls and butter, poured us water, and left. A second server--presumably our assigned waiter--demanded to know who had already made up our table. At first we thought the comments constituted an attempt at light humor but soon came to realize the waiter awaited a legitimate response. My lunch buddy didn't think the encounter was so strange until this was compounded with other awkward snippets of conversation we endured throughout the meal. 

The food presented the same turn of expectations. Little bread rolls arrived, dusted with salt. They must have been toasted but left to cool before being served because we were left with stale buns. My starter--an artichoke soup--arrived in a single-serving pitcher. Though individualized, once poured into its tiny rustic bowl, the soup had lost all heat. And while I cut into my spice rubbed pork shoulder, my lunch date frowned upon four mini-ravioli that looked more like a mockery than a meal. 

The whole experience eluded us. Quality lay just beyond our forks and knives, but we never got a bite. I wonder if this was a result of lowering the bar for Restaurant Week. I have heard that Restaurant Week used to be a glut of exceptional fine dining. But over the years, as it has become more commercial, mainstream, and (gasp) touristy, restaurants aren't willing to plate their finest dishes for the cheap crowd that partakes only twice a year. Either way, we went to take advantage of Restaurant Week, but Butter ended up taking advantage of us. 

Braai's Exotic Tapas Do Not Excite

Braai - Hell's Kitchen
329 W. 51st St., New York, NY

Braai's open-air, candle-lit entryway invited us in from off the street. Just a few steps down from the sidewalk we entered a glowing wine bar and prepared ourselves for a relaxing evening of fine dining. A few glances at the décor and menu choices (which included ostrich burgers, chicken liver, and venison carpaccio) and I knew that this must be the sister restaurant to Xai Xai. 

To take advantage of variety, we ordered the five tapas special. As at Xai Xai, the tapas arrive altogether on a large serving platter, and since the restaurant catered to only a few patrons that night, we received our food quickly. 

Everything tasted good, but for a menu as diverse and out-of-the-ordinary as this, dinner felt sadly average. The lightest dish we ordered--venison carpaccio--tasted much like a beef carpaccio with a more delicate texture. Lamb samoosas, the waitress' recommended dish, stood out as the most flavorful, but as they did not arrive hot our excitement was only lukewarm as well. 

Dinner at Xai Xai was nice, but I remember a wave of disappointment washing over me during dessert. So, lest we repeat our own mistake, we cut out sweets for the evening. Thankfully, the five tapas together amounted to a perfect portion for two people, so we left neither stuffed nor hungry. It was too bad we couldn't enjoy the restaurant's atmosphere a bit longer, but having been served so quickly and then skipping out before dessert, our dining experience was brief. I would hesitate to go back and extend it at a later date. Though, I would not be opposed to returning for a glass of wine at their bar. After all, the ambiance was the best part.

Want to Gorge on Brunch That You Won't Regret? Try Miriam.

Miriam Restaurant - Park Slope
79 5th Ave., Brooklyn, NY

I've been valiantly tested in the all-you-can-eat brunch challenge, only to fail with a post-prandial stomach ache. I've laughed my way through all-you-can drink brunches only to be knocked out the rest of the day. In New York, the brunch options are too delectable to pass up, but four eggs and a basket of fries later I often question whether it was worth it.

Miriam takes away the grease and the guilt.

We managed to squeeze into the buzzing restaurant without too much of a wait. On the exposed brick of the Israeli restaurant hung bright Moroccan ceramic plates. The large windows let in all the daylight. It was busy but calm and very pleasant.

The best part about Miriams is there were no regrets. Healthy but a bit decadent--as anything is with a dollop of creme fraiche--and fair price for the freshness, Miriam hit the spot in every way. I was able to pop my poached eggs, soak up the yolk with warm flatbread, and wash everything down with a healthy heap of Israeli salad. Even the one breakfast cocktail I ordered was a success, having taken the waitress' recommendation for a fresh summer beverage. (I find that too often breakfast drinks are either too expensive or too boozy, with the aim to get the drinker so sloshed he forgets how awful the concoction tastes.)

I left full (not overstuffed) and happy. And I plan to do it again. 

Savor "Forbidden" Foods At Traif

Traif - Williamsburg
229 S. 4th Street, Brooklyn, NY 11211

In getting to the restaurant, my friend and I had gotten delayed by a complicated bus transfer that landed us--lost--in the middle of the most Orthodox Jewish part of Brooklyn. We somehow didn't feel it was appropriate to go up to anyone and ask "Do you know where we can find the restaurant, Traif?"

Traif, the Yiddish word for food that does not conform to the Jewish dietary laws of kashrut, designed its menu off all the most succulent "forbidden" foods. Dinner started off right with an amuse bouche of warm bacon broth. Every plate thereafter seemed to outstrip the former. A tapas restaurant, the waitress highly recommended we order eight dishes among the three of us, but we found that seven was plenty.

The strawberry-cinnamon glazed Berkshire baby back ribs--meat that falls off the bone slathered in a smoky sweet sauce--were my personal favorite. However, fresh mozzarella and beets were elegantly simple.

For dessert, try the round doughnut puffs. They're covered in candied bacon.

Go to Kahve for Scones, Rex for Croissants

Rex Coffee - Midtown West

864 Tenth Avenue (btwn 56th and 57th streets)

New York, NY 10039

Kahve - Midtown West
774 9th Ave. (btwn 51st and 52nd)
New York, NY 10019

Chalkboard Menu at Rex Coffee

Midtown West can be a black hole for New Yorkers.

If you pull up Yelp and search for cafes, the area with the most red pins is Times Square, which also happens to be a special circle of Hell for residents on the weekend. So, too far south and you're in Port Authority territory, too far East and you're in Times Square, too far North and you're in Columbus Circle (or Central Park, which is beautiful but nevertheless a dead zone for food).

Luckily, there are two cute finds for a morning coffee or tea and a breakfast treat: Kahve and Rex. The former leans more on the jazzy, artsy side while the latter has a modern rustic feel (read, Brooklyn) with its wooden counter, mismatched chairs, and blackboard menu.

In both locations the tea selection airs on the side of specialty. The quality difference lies in the treats. For a good scone, try Kahve. The scones at Rex are dry and hard. But for a buttery chocolate croissant that flakes off on your plate, Rex wins by a landslide. As a Greek yogurt fan, I was surprised at how quickly I was devouring the thin plain yogurt they offer at Rex--mostly because their chewy homemade granola became quickly addicting.

And, bonus, a parade of little dogs wandered in and out of Rex with their respective owners. I love sitting at a table watching happy puppies. It makes for a happy morning. 

Watch A Man Pull Your Noodles Before You Eat Them

Lam Zhou La Mian - Chinatown
144 East Broadway, New York, NY 10002

The storefront's ambiguous name was no help in confirming we made it to the right place. However, once inside, the yellow and red sign on the wall listed the restaurant's name as well as the menu items, which are essentially all a variation of noodle soup.

As the sign is in traditional characters, it was not until later that I realized something about the name was amiss.

Traditional: 蘭州工手拉麵
Simplified: 兰州工手拉面

Pinyin: LánZhōu Gōng Shǒu Lā Miàn

Translation: Lanzhou Hand-Pulled Noodles

The translation/English name listed on the menu is "Lamzhou". However, the Chinese confirms that this is supposed to be Lánzhōu, the capital and largest city of the inland province Gansu.

I don't know if this should make me question the authenticity of the establishment, but I do know that we enjoyed it all the same. Sitting at questionably clean wooden tables looking at open bottles of various half-used sauces I felt like I was back in China. Ordering in Mandarin (given the waitress's shaky grasp of English) also felt like flexing a stiff muscle. And when the enormous ceramic bowl of pulled noodles came out--complete with whole leaves of bok choy and a fried egg--I was reminded of my daily noodle soup lunches in Nanjing. Squirting a bit of vinegar and dropping in dangerously hot flakes of chili added just the right amount of flavor to make you sweat it out on a warm evening.

Just as in China, the noodles curled and twisted with the imperfections of manual labor. As you sit and eat, you can watch a man at the front of the kitchen pull long threads of dough. Every now and again I would flinch when the high-pitched slapping noise of slamming the dough down pierced the restaurant quiet.

The one drawback I would say is their dumplings. As the name suggests, this restaurant's forte is in pulled noodles--which I highly recommend. But if you're looking for authentic, Chinese dumplings, go elsewhere (possibly Prosperity Dumpling a few blocks over).

We took leftover soup home so we had room enough for bubble before departing Chinatown. Next time--and I do expect a next time--I will have to try the lamb pulled noodle soup. 

Big Gay Ice Cream Isn't Flamboyant Enough

Big Gay Ice Cream Shop - West Village
61 Grove Street, New York, NY 10014

Disclaimer: this post is missing any scrap of political correctness yet intends to offend no one. Cheer up; we're talking about ice cream.


As frigid winds blow out of the city and make way for spring breezes, new fashions pop up, spirits lift, and food cravings emerge from hibernation. Winter is about hearty dishes--hot soups, heavy sauces, and wholesome carbs--but spring brings salads, fruits, and ice cream. 

I have been meaning to try Big Gay Ice Cream since last summer after hearing it mentioned in every ice cream article and word of mouth whisper. As soon as April hit and the temperature crept up to a palatable 50+ degrees, ice cream no longer seemed an absurd notion for an out-on-the-town dessert.

The little shop belongs in the West Village. With such overblown store fronts all over the area, my friend and I walked right past the giant unicorn on the window pane on our first attempt at locating the parlor.

At the risk of offending, well, everyone, I must say: Big Gay Ice Cream just didn't seem gay enough. I'm sure you could bash me from both sides on political correctness when I say this, but I was expecting Big Gay Ice Cream to glimmer with fairy dust glitter, stock colorful ice cream balls, or at least boast a heavily decorated interior. Sure, there was a unicorn on the window, and the ice cream names possessed a twang of gay humor. Nevertheless, the store did not meet my expectations of flamboyancy.

The ice cream didn't quite meet expectations, either. Admittedly, I had built this up in my mind, so when I was served nothing but vanilla soft serve with a few toppings, I felt let down. The ice cream was creamy and smooth--a well curated soft serve--and no one was stingy with the chocolate-coated toppings. However, at the end I just felt unsatisfied and sticky. (Insert gay joke here).

I'd like to go back, though. I probably just need to accept Big Gay Ice Cream for exactly what it is--good soft serve--and lick my way through the West Village this summer. 

All Charm and Little Flavor at Antibes Bistro

Antibes Bistro - Lower East Side
112 Suffolk Street, New York, NY 10002

How can a restaurant have so much charm and still fall flat?

Walking into Antibes Bistro is like walking into a quaint left bank cafe in Paris. We sat at a worn wooden table by a large window, listening to jazzy tunes that livened the mood. Details such as the tiny vase of wildflowers or the bottle-nosed glass carafe of water gave a happy rustic feeling to the restaurant. My only complaint with the atmosphere was that it was a bit too dim--we read the menus by candlelight. Otherwise, it was charming.

Yet the meal started with a mediocre baguette and only fell further from expectations thereafter. No Parisian patron would have been satisfied with this bread, which consisted of a tough white stuffing and softer (dare I saw chewy?) brown exterior--precisely the opposite of a fresh French baguette.

For the main dish the waitress talked me into the special: red snapper. Priced higher than the other entries, I was first disappointed with the taste then annoyed by the bill. Though presented well, the snapper lacked flavor and creativity. Served as the whole fish, I was able to separate the two fillets to de-bone in one piece, only to be left with little meat and a number of pin bones. My mashed potatoes and side of greens were the best part of the meal.

Given that this was the special (and recommended over other dishes when asked), I should have been blown away. My friends' dishes--in appearance only--did not suggest I would have been much better off with another selection.

We passed on dessert. What a shame; the restaurant just looks so adorable.

Bubby's Isn't Great Grandma's But It Still Tastes Homemade

Bubby's - TriBeCa
120 Hudson Street, New York, NY

When I imagine Bubby's I picture a tiny Jewish woman no taller than 4' 10" with wisps of grey and white curls and wrinkles that etched the 90 years of life deep into her smiling face. That's because I was lucky enough to have a Bubby--a great, great grandma, who gave me teddy bears and my first memories of Florida.

Bubby's in TriBeCa, on the other hand, is no where near as sweet, old, or even Jewish as my Bubby. Though my Bubby never cooked for me (that I can remember), I can't imagine that home cooked Huevos Rancheros ever came out of her kitchen.

Huevos Rancheros

Make no mistake. Bubby's isn't my image of Bubby, but it sure was great. The restaurant gives a warm feeling, starting with homemade pies that catch your gaze before being seated, then with the sunlit dining area, table tap water, and a menu that took its own time to digest.  

Warm pancakes quickly melted the dark chocolate chips sitting atop. I cut the sweetness by dipping into the side of poached eggs and bacon. What's better with breakfast than freshly squeezed juice? Bubby's has an exhaustingly enticing selection of juices and sodas. I was so overwhelmed I just opted for an old-school grapefruit juice.

Good company and good food made for a great morning. That day I ended up walking from the Financial District all the way up to the mid-50s; those pancakes made for great fuel. 

Order Dinner But Skip Dessert At Xai Xai South African Wine Bar

Xai Xai - Hell's Kitchen
369 W 51st Street, New York, NY

Ostrich mini-burgers; gorgonzola, bacon-wrapped figs; and oxtail were just a few of the small plates we ordered at the candle-lit wine bar. As white candles flickered in tissue paper wrappings, we mused over the diversity of the menu.

I could hardly discern the details of the space; the candles provided the only light, sitting atop every table, shining from wine racks, and scattered elsewhere about the dim restaurant.

Hardly noticing the server--he wasn't too talkative, was there when we needed him, absent when we didn't--the food arrived without a lengthy wait. The tapas arrived in clusters atop a few large dinner plates.

For calorie as well as monetary considerations, I opted out of wine--at a wine bar--to be able to try dessert. This method usually serves me well given my penchant for chocolate and distaste for even the slightest of headaches, but in this case, I should have opted for a South African wine.

Of the doughnut dish we ordered, the vanilla ice cream was the best part. Nothing about the custard cake moved me. I dabbled with my spoon, picking at the dessert like an eight year old boy moves asparagus with his fork. The desserts lacked the same creativity and care we had in our main meal, and we left on a sour rather than a sweet note.

However, I would still recommend Xai Xai. Just, order dinner--with wine--and skip the dessert. 

I'm Afraid Of What I Would Do For A Dough Doughnut

Dashing out of bed on a weekend morning almost never happens. Only truly important things can make me want to unwrap myself from my comforter cocoon.

I had set my sights on dough doughnuts since my first visit to Bed-Stuy--apartment hunting--and this weekend became my target. So, getting out of bed was surprisingly easy. And instead of lumbering around the apartment mechanically getting ready, I dressed with agility and practically skipped down the sunny avenue toward Dough. 

Good job, self. So worth it. 

The smell of fresh baked goods hit me, and the line out the door didn't matter anymore.

As I was bringing home a half dozen for my roommates and friends, I knew I would need something to tide myself over. I bit into the Nutella stuffed mini-doughnut, and the pocket of Nutella burst into my mouth. Not too sugary, perfectly fresh, and squishibly soft, this mini-treat was a happy indicator of the joys to come.

Dough doughnuts fill you. One doughnut is bigger, heavier, and more generously topped than any mainstream doughnut I've seen on the market. As you sink your teeth in, the dough scrunches down from top to bottom before slowly rising back up again (unlike a Krispy Kreme, which is so airy it never rebounds; and unlike a Dunkin, which is often too stale to have any give in the first bite).

I ordered the salted chocolate caramel. This chocolate layer coated the doughnut in a fine layer of rich cocoa--it didn't lay lifeless and stiff like an icing, or plastered to the bread like a glaze. The Toasted Coconut and Sugar doughnuts each lived up to high standards, too.

Dunkin Donuts has bastardized the doughnut, twisting Americans' perception of what one should taste, look, and smell like. It brings me hope that little shops like Dough are popping up to correct the wrong.

**Side Note--My roommate brought home a custard stuffed Jolly Doughnut from Sandusky, Ohio not too long ago. After a cross-country commute to the Big Apple, it arrived smushed and disfigured. This doughnut was dense and heavy as a brick. It was also the best doughnut I've eaten to date. 

Mominette's Burger In Bushwick Hit The Spot

Mominette - Bushwick
221 Knickerbocker Ave., Brooklyn, NY

Bound by Birthday law to meet a friend at a bar in Bushwick and famished by 9 p.m., I hunted for the closest place for take-out. Post-work plans had delayed dinner, and the birthday bar served no food. It was raining. I wanted to hurry back to the festivities. But then I found an optimist option just a block from the birthday festivities.

Once inside Mominette, however, I decided to just stay and eat before walking back down the block to the birthday celebration--engaged right away by a talkative bar tender and drawn in by the French bistro atmosphere.

Tempted by the duck hash confit, I opted for the burger after the bartender's note that it contains more food. Mominette serves a no muss, no fuss burger served on a wooden slab next to a lightly-dressed kale salad. Aside from the knife piercing through the top, the burger comes unadorned, allowing the meal to stand on its merits. One bite into a pink center revealed that the patty was prepared exactly the way I asked for it. It was juicy but didn't fall apart. The one fault I would take with the meal was a lack of crisp on the thin fries. However, the restaurant felt like a fortuitous oasis in a relatively sparse area of Brooklyn.

Next time I want to try that duck hash confit. However, the bartender mentioned opening the back garden for the summer, hiring a shucker, and selling dollar oysters in the sun. If that comes to pass, the hash may have to wait. 

The All-You-Can-Drink Brunch at Stecchino May or May Not Be Worth The Food

Stecchino - Hell's Kitchen
765 9th Ave. (Btw 51st and 52nd), Manhattan, NY

Not bad, but not worth it.

That was my take-away from Stecchino's all-you-can-drink brunch.

The most exciting thing that happened was being engaged by a lovely (at least semi-drunk) Canadian couple with whom we chatted for 20 minutes, discussing New York's culinary and theatrical delights and Toronto's cartoon of a Mayor.

An over-peppered, washed out Bloody Mary sparked a food debate that began with Clamato, clam-tomato juice Canadians mix into a punchier Bloody Mary, and ended with the relative merits of poutine, the gravy-slathered french fries of the Great White North. (We were all in agreement that Americans do Bloody Mary's an injustice by not using Clamato. But there was a sharp debate on poutine: one female American agreed with one anti-gravy male Canadian that fries and ketchup belong together, and one male American staunchly vouched for the female Canadian in a pro-gravy stance.)

Stecchino took a back seat to all this excitement. Though I had procured a deal--all-you-can-drink brunch for two for a total of $30--that beat the menu price by $5 per person, once I added in the tax and pre-calculated, mandatory tip, the $50 bill just didn't seem worth it. The best part of my Mexican omelet was the candied bacon, which fell short of expectations, followed by the small, decorative salad. (The omelet itself scratched the surface of mediocrity). The Canadian woman beside me didn't have such nice things to say about her salmon burger, which she traded to her more willing husband. He seemed to enjoy it, and the woman was much happier after she made the trade.

If you're planning on merrily drinking yourself under the table for $20, this is a nice atmosphere in which to do it. The drinks aren't bad. Just one Bellini (served in a tank of a wineglass glass rather than svelte Champlain stemware) was enough to make me fall asleep at the planetarium, so there was really no need to "get my money's worth" on the drinks side of the equation. I'd much rather eat well. Though, I realize others have a different Sunday brunch agenda. So, if you're going to order at least two drinks elsewhere, maybe the mediocre food merits the $20 price tag for bottomless booze.

My First Roti Experience Left Me Underwhelmed

Ali's Trinidad Roti Shop - Bedford Stuyvesant
1267 Fulton St., Brooklyn, NY

High reviews on the Internet and proximity to our apartment meant checking out Ali's Trinidad Roti Shop was inevitable. When I inquired if I should order the lamb, chicken, or beef, the friendly man behind the counter suggested chicken--it's the most popular.

Just a few minutes later we walked back to the apartment, roti in hand, to enjoy them on the couch. As this was my first roti experience, I was surprised to pull out a large pouch. Not open like a gyro or falafel, not neatly wrapped like a burrito, roti is corn tortilla stuffed to bursting with meat, potatoes, and a sauce that reminded me of the Indian style potatoes I ate with zeal at my Indian friend's house growing up. All the ingredients are packed in and messily folded into a full-bellied pouch.

Not quite as flavorful as an indian curry, the roti left me wanting. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but the "umph" just wasn't there--only chicken, potatoes, and sauce. No tang of tzatziki, no subcontinental spice, no Mexican picante. Of the ethnic wraps of the world, this one didn't do anything for me.

Ali's Trinidad Roti Shop was friendly, convenient, and good--but just not great. I won't be rushing back for more.

Corner Grind Is Where Worker Bees Type Quietly With "Good" Coffee In Hand

Corner Grind - Bedford-Stuyvesant
1183 Bedford Ave., Brooklyn, NY 11216

Currently, I sit at a round, marble table at The Corner Grind. There are six patrons--myself included. There are six computers. (Three Mac, three PC, which represents surprising technological diversity for what I can only call a hipster hang).

Having ordered an earl grey tea, I dropped some whole milk and honey into the plain white, cafeteria style mug and sat down. My Breakfast Cup ($5) arrived, and I smiled as the sunny egg yolk looked up at me atop a bed of cheesy grits and fatty bacon. 

"Looks good. I think I approve." I said.

"I have to question their form of serving it. That looks like a hospital cup." My roommate responds.

She's right. The V shaped wooden wall panels, wooden benches, communal oak table, stout leather blue armchairs with silver studs, and graphic chalkboard menu are a bit offset by the cafeteria mugs and hospital paper cups.

But everyone is just quietly enjoying their coffee. (My roommate says its "good" coffee that "doesn't have that sour taste" coffee gets from not changing the filter. She's non-discerning when it comes to caffeine intake). Everyone is typing away, plugged into their headphones, getting into the grind. 

The Corner Grind isn't a place I'll come just to relax, but next time I have some work to do, this seems like a peaceful spot with good food to boot. 

Stroll Over To The Park For A Glass of Wine Under Illuminated Trees

The Park - Chelsea

118 10th Ave., New York, NY 10011

Firefly lights illuminate the indoor trees at The Park, a multi-purposed bar in Chelsea. My friends and I sat in relative quite under the twinkling lights while a steady bass pulsed from a nearby room (from which we could see drunken people stumble out from the crowd). The space is composed of not only The Garden, where we were sitting, but also the Main Room, the Atrium, the Red Room, and the Penthouse. 

For my friends and I, this was a quiet last stop to a laid-back evening of cocktails and banter; so we were in no mood to join the fray of boozy club goers. It was also too late for dinner--or even dessert. However, the calm of nature brought under the warmth of the indoors, friendly waitresses, and reasonably priced drinks (for Manhattan) indicated this would lend itself to a very pleasant mid-day repast.

As they also serve brunch, lunch, and dinner, I intend to go back to The Park  to experience it under a different light. It's particularly tempting when the cold and rain-drenched city is begging for a spring that just isn't quite ready to blossom yet.

Spice Market Left A Sour Taste In My Mouth

Spice Market - Meatpacking District

403 W 13th Street, New York, NY 10014

In a faux Thai style Spice Market's dimly lit wooden interior is adorned with carvings and canopy ceiling beams. But the reference to the classic teak wood that panels much of Bangkok is where the authenticity ends. "Pan-Asian", which can be a vague description of fusing Western ideas of an exoticized East, is a generous description of Spice Market. The waitresses walking around in Keds and salmon colored backless shirts only added to the cultural confusion.

Dinner started off well with appetizers, though my cold jumbo shrimp arrived at least 10 minutes before my friend's crispy grain salad.

The entrees were disappointing. My salmon arrived a bit underdone but alright to eat. Having made a bet with my friend that he would be unable to eat the Mapo Tofu he ordered--start to finish--with chopsticks, I was peeved to find that his dish neither was served with chopsticks nor, frankly, was Mapo Tofu. What's more is that he had waited an additional 15 minutes from when my entree first arrived.

Sichuanese in origin, Mapo Tofu is typically a very spicy Chinese dish with red pepper flakes, minced meat, scallions, and tofu so thin and slippery Westerners are almost never able keep the tofu from falling between their chopsticks. Spice Market's version, however, was an inedible and bland noodle dish with rigid chunks of bean curd. It wasn't that my friend couldn't eat his dinner with chopsticks--it's that he didn't want to.

Restaurant Week makes the city's best restaurants an affordable treat. I would expect any participating restaurant to offer fine dining. So, when I paid $40 (pre tax/tip and excluding my wine) for a mediocre meal at an establishment that was supposed to be of even higher quality than I'm used to, I was quite disappointed. When we called over the manager to express our concern--affirming that the service had been quality despite the kitchen's failures--the manager was apologetic. However, she offered the following excuse: the dishes in traditional Asian style are meant to come out when ready--not necessarily at the same time.

She pushed the wrong button.

In China, at least, restaurants serve dinner "family style" in which everyone over-orders and shares everything--if one dish comes out before the other it doesn't matter. So, in addition to the tofu's poor adaptation of Asian style, so, too, was the service.

Eventually, the manager comped our wine, and the server delivered our dessert. But I will not be returning to Spice Market.

DBGB Kitchen & Bar Served An Enjoyable Birthday Brunch

DBGB Kitchen & Bar - East Village
299 Bowery (Between Houston and 1st St.), New York, NY 10003 

We elected DBGB Kitchen and Bar as my birthday brunch destination. With a reservation we secured a side table--a cozy booth on three sides inlaid from the restaurant. The menu, which consisted of a la carte brunch, lunch, and dessert as well as a prix fix option for restaurant week, had enough diversity on a single two-sided page for everyone.

Starting with appetizers of oysters and a grapefruit chopped salad and ending with sweet notes of pomegranate and chocolate, from start to finish it was a lovely brunch.

My roommate boldly took on the recommended cod sandwich, swearing upon the first bite of lightly fried fish it was indeed a surprisingly delicious choice. The sweet brunch was just as well done as the savory, as experienced with a bite of my dad's fruit and whipped cream topped Belgian waffle. The warm waffle melted in my mouth without any crisp exterior to break through, yet it was firm enough to hold the berries and (real) whipped cream without becoming soggy.

The one obvious flaw lay in the poached eggs. Presented in a white square bowl as part of my dish of bacon, sausage, and greens, one poke with a fork showed a hard yoke of muted yellow. However, after I politely asked the chef to try again the waiter returned with runny eggs, an apology, and a confirmation that hard poached eggs should not have been released from the kitchen.

And after a chocolate praline dessert topped with ice cream reminiscent of creamed mousse, the egg episode was long forgotten. I would certainly go back.

Stop By Little Town Before Hitting The Big City

Little Town - Union Square

118 E15th Street, New York, NY

Choose your beer from the colored chalk listings. Among the pints of ale you can order are "Nipple Top" and "Mother's Milk". Not a beer drinker myself, my brew buff of a roommate gives them the thumbs up. For $6 it's not a bad price, either.

The small bar remained packed for the duration of our stay, and constant noise did impair our conversation capacity. But despite the full house, it wasn't unpleasant. The crowd likely had an average age of less than 30 years. And people weren't just young--they seemed attractive and normal. People mingled; no one was obnoxious, and no one got rowdy.

During the week Little Town offers $.99 oysters; we settled for $1.25 each. Don't expect a waiter to come over to your table and ask if you'd like any, though. Once you place your order at the bar, a server will deliver a round of oysters atop chipped ice with lemons and sauce. 

A whiskey sour and three oyster slurps later, we left for our next destination. But, I would come back. Little Town is a pleasant pit stop on the way to the big city. 

Mika Isn't Worth The Sushi Deal

Mika Japanese Cuisine & Bar - Chinatown
150 Centre Street, 2nd Floor, New York, NY 10013

Groupon currently offers a $29 prix fixe meal for two at Mika that includes beer or warm sake, one appetizer, two rolls, and two special rolls. More than enough food for two for only $15 per person (plus tax and tip).

But, it's not worth it. The restaurant's three out of five star rating on Yelp is too generous.

It started off well with an efficient waitress and a prix fixe menu that offered plenty of choices. We started with a nicely present plate of well-browned gyoza--flavorful, thin skinned, and not too greasy.

A small disco ball hung over a pot of fake orchids, and a childish mural of the Japanese countryside looked like it belonged in a pediatric dentist's office. Yet, the cheesy 90s music was more amusing than annoying, and the tacky bar visible in the next section was just funny.

Though the dim lighting drew attention away from the brownish tinge of the over-ripe avocado (my roommate didn't notice), the blood red slabs of fish draped heavily over our "rainbow roll" were too suspicious to ignore. I can't remember tasting such fishy fish in sushi. It was almost difficult to eat, and the sake was too pungent (usually quite smooth) to wash it down. There was plenty of food, but I'd rather spend my $15 on one, quality roll than on four that I can't enjoy.