My blog usually relies on professional food critics’ reviews, which I then corroborate, disagree with, or ridicule. But I was recently given the chance to check out a new restaurant, Broadway East, before any major writers or bloggers rendered their verdicts. I wasn’t about to turn this down for continuity’s sake. After all, besides the fountain transplant in Washington Square Park, I consider change a good thing.
So behold, the inaugural edition of Back For…Firsts? Read the rest of this entry »
Until recently, I associated the word “ramen” with Styrofoam cups filled with dry, noodle-like foodstuffs of dubious chemical composition. Even with the advent of such eateries as Momofuku and Ramen Setagaya, I couldn’t shake my perception of ramen as a snack best enjoyed while writing a last-minute term paper at 3 a.m.
Between lambasting Restaurant Girl and fishing for adjectives, I couldn’t find time this week to dine at Ippudo, the restaurant profiled in my video. But fear not! My review will soon be up on the blog. In the meanwhile, check out the video.
I have heretofore viewed the stretch of 8th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues merely as a place to get shoes, fake ID’s, and Gray’s Papaya. But one day in late February, while I was shoe shopping, a window display stopped me in my tracks. It wasn’t stilettos that caught my eye, but a sleek new restaurant, all velvet and candlelight—an oasis among the 8th Street shops. The writing on the window said “Elettaria,” and I knew I had to learn more.
My blog is about critiquing restaurants and the writers who review them. But this week, I decided to indulge my sweet tooth, and comb the city for the best cookies in Manhattan. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it. Here are my top picks:
50 West 8th St. (between 5th and 6th Ave.)
It’s 3 A.M. The red phone in the Oval Office is ringing. Whichever presidential candidate takes that call, I hope they have a box of Insomnia Cookies at their side. Delivered between 8 P.M. and 3 A.M., these cookies are the perfect antidote to a long night of studying, partying, or preventing nuclear disaster. Fresh out of the oven, the soft dough is filled with gooey chocolate chunks. Mr. or Madame President should also have an arsenal of napkins at the ready, because eating these cookies is a messy, though delicious, affair.
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Since its July 2007 opening, I have heard so much buzz about the West Village’s Centro Vinoteca that I felt like I had already been there. But I hadn’t. So after making a reservation, I re-read some reviews, to see what professional foodies had been saying about Chef Anne Burrell’s innovative take on an Italian restaurant.
Watch Ali’s Video from
Centro Vinoteca
I was particularly intrigued by a review by Danyelle Freeman, aka Restaurant Girl, the Daily News’ resident food critic. I tend to read Ms. Freeman’s reviews with a combination of amusement and horror. In describing food, her use of the English language is confusing and sometimes cringe-worthy. I knew that when she described Centro’s menu as “fearless,” this three-out-of-four-stars review would be no exception.
Short of eating live crickets, I would call few things in the food world “fearless.” But Chef Anne’s approach to a traditional Italian meal is indeed creative. Her menu begins a section called “piccolini.” Served on mismatched dishes, 
these tiny, inexpensive plates work as either bar snacks or as part of a full meal. I tried the eggplant cakes ($5), bite-sized fritters topped with a dollop of ricotta, with red pepper flakes providing the perfect amount of heat. Ms. Freeman found these tidbits “deceptively straightforward.” If you could explain to me what “deceptively straightforward” means, I will treat you to your own plate of eggplant cakes.
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Apparently, while I was busy drinking Barolos and eating tacos at my favorite Italian and Mexican restaurants, a whole crop of Latino-Italian fusion joints sprouted in the city. Luckily for me, a New York Magazine review by Robin Raisfeld and Rob Patronite turned me on to one such place: Matilda, a six-month-old “Tusc-Mex” restaurant in Alphabet City.
Matilda’s married owners, Maristella Innocenti and Esteban Molina, hail from Tuscany and Mexico respectively. The couple met while both cooking at I Coppi, a Tuscan restaurant owned by Maristella’s sister. They based Matilda’s menu on the kind of half-Tuscan, half-Mexican food they serve at home for their daughter, after whom the restaurant was named.
Ms. Raisfeld and Mr. Patronite wrote that Matilda’s appetizers are mostly Mexican standards “tweaked with Italian accents.” Indeed, the “guacamole alla toscana” ($8) tastes a lot like (really good) regular guacamole. The only variations were basil instead of cilantro, and dipping options of both tortilla chips and homemade focaccia bread.
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Over spring break, I was lucky enough to travel to Italy — Foodie Paradise — with my family. Even though I wasn’t “on the job” for WSN, I spent a disproportional amount of my trip in restaurants, and simply had to write about my favorite experience.
On the first night of our vacation in the Central Italian region of Umbria, my family and I spent hours traveling winding country roads looking for a place to eat. We somehow ended up in a tiny mountain hamlet called Carnaiola, where we found La Locanda di Desideria, the only restaurant for miles. We were grateful to find any restaurant at all, but we had no idea of the spectacle that awaited us inside. Read the rest of this entry »
While poring over Peter Meehan’s New York Times review of BLT Burger on 6th Avenue, I tripped over the use of the word “contrived.” Meehan uses it to describe the entire dining experience, but to me, this evokes insincerity and calculation, like lobbyists and Disneyworld. How could a restaurant be associated with such dubious things? I had to see for myself. Plus, the review was almost two years old! Time for an update.
Opened in 2006, BLT Burger is part of a franchise run by chef Laurent Tourondel, whose other BLT (Bistro Laurent Tourondel) restaurants include BLT’s Fish, Prime and Steak. Burgers aren’t exactly what Mr. Tourondel, a chef trained in France, is known for. Perhaps Mr. Meehan thought he should stick to what comes naturally, rather than meddle with the ultimate American cookout food. In an effort to find out, I took the short walk from Washington Square to BLT Burger on Saturday night.
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