The OWF "Eat 'Til You Drop" Tour: New York Minutes
Patience. Or is it Fortitude?
Photo by Melissa Schneider.
I know I'm dragging out the posts about our "Eat 'Til You Drop" tour, but before I write the last post, the one that all the wine lovers will want to read, here's a quick look at the rest of our Manhattan gastronomic adventures.
Friday
Jen and her then-fiancé Mike, online acquaintances through our mutual friend Meriko, waited patiently for us at Pegu Club while we struggled with wine shipping laws and gnarly Queens traffic. We hit it off with our new friends, dicussing anything and everything over small spicy, meaty duck sloppy joes and other well-prepared bites. The interesting cocktails are your best beverage choice, but the wine list will keep lighter drinkers happy. We ambled through Soho to Vintage New York for yet more food, flights of Long Island wine, and conversation (I didn't take notes).
Saturday
How many times did we visit Fried Dumpling, five minutes from our divey little hotel. Twice? Three times? This Manhattan foodie favorite doesn't serve spectacular dumplings—but it does sell five very decent potstickers for $1. No wonder we returned to the tiny space.
I wanted to save room for the Ultimate Lavish Dinner that night, but Melissa convinced me to stop at Shake Shack. I loved the juxtaposition: a park kiosk that sells high-quality hamburgers, beer, and wine. Shake Shack owners, if you're reading this, don't you think a San Francisco location would do really well? Please? Pretty please?
Sunday
I'm gonna be a matzoh man
Photo by Melissa Schneider.
The Lavish Dinner diners recovered from our hangovers and found room in our stomachs for lunch at the now-closed 2nd Ave Deli. The delicately flavored dumpling and crystal-clear consommé in the matzoh ball soup earned oohs and ahs from the table. "Be sure and write about the cheese blintz," said Melissa about lunch's other hit. A tender pancake encased a rich and just-tart-enough filling; this version shares nothing but a name with the gluey and monotonous brunch blintzes you find elsewhere. I had a taste of the soup and the blintzes, but saved my stomach for the pastrami on rye. I stuffed myself and hoped that I'd have room for dinner at wd-50.
Good-bye, 2nd Ave. We'll miss you when we return, but we'll find solace in Katz's arms.
Monday
Photo by Melissa Schneider.
Kitchen Arts & Letters demanded a visit. The good-sized bookstore specializes in food and wine literature. The shelves overflow with every cookbook and wine reference you can imagine. The owners were personable, especially when I mentioned I'd written for The Art of Eating—the store carries more back issues than the magazine's website. I bought a couple hard-to-find books, an older issue of AoE, and another food newsletter that looked interesting.
We sampled a bite of the Batali empire when we ate dinner at Lupa with Patrick Martins and Sarah O'Braitis of Heritage Foods USA. I don't know what we ate or drank—Patrick "ordered" by urging the chef to bring us dishes that used Heritage Foods meat and telling the sommelier to be creative—but Melissa and I almost licked some of the plates. We'd go back in a heartbeat, even if we had to yell a little over the hubbub of the crowded restaurant. Oddly, the staff was quick to distance themselves from Batali-ness, even when I didn't ask about it: "He rarely stops by," and "He likes what we're doing and leaves us alone," were common comments.
Tuesday
We crammed activities into our last twenty-four hours in Manhattan. We had an early lunch at the justly popular Mary's Fish Camp (decadent lobster roll for Melissa, robust oyster po'boy for me), and then a late lunch at Artisanal. We planned to eat a simple cheese plate from Max McCalman's extensive cheese portfolio, but the torrential rain outside the large brasserie-esque space steered us towards a rich and warm cheese fondue (I neglected to write down the cheeses, which weren't the normal Emmentaler, Gruyère, and Appenzeller).
We walked off our lunches so that we'd have room for dinner at Craft with Adam from Amateur Gourmet. I can't hope to top his review, so see his post for the menu. We haven't brought him out for houseboy duties, but we're still working on it. Nor have I tried to replicate the bacon and egg risotto. Yet.
Wednesday
Melissa fell in love with New York—this was her first visit—and she wistfully looked through the cab's back window. We ate well, and walked up and down Manhattan so that we could eat well again.
"We should have stayed here two more days," she said mournfully.
Dinner in Tampa changed her mind.
Come back soon(ish) for the last stop on the "Eat 'Til You Drop Tour:" Bern's Steakhouse.
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