Bar Q: Garlic fried milk and little else

Really, I expected a lot more from Bar Q. We were there to celebrate CC's birthday, and though I had read mixed reviews of the place before, I assumed the expertise of celebrated chef Anita Lo would make things interesting.

I didn't take photos of the appetizers we ordered (as you can tell, the lighting was shite in there), but we split three: the unagi and scallion fritters, the grilled "tuna ribs," and the roasted pork belly with kimchee, takuan, and steamed buns. The fritters were good as fried food always is, but the other two were just okay, and at those prices ($12, $15, and $13 respectively) for small portions, I would have been happier if each bite had been a bit more sublime.

Like the appetizers, my grilled loin of Australian lamb was fine but ultimately not anything special. I tried other people's dishes, too, and they all seemed to be tasty enough but not amazing, and they were often paired with pedestrian or oddly executed sides. The only standout on my plate was the garlic fried milk that accompanied the lamb (recipe here), which was creamy and salty, crisply fried, and strong with the flavor of that spicy, pungent clove.

The desserts—a chocolate peanut butter tartelette with pandanus ice cream, and warm sesame mochi with dipping sauce, were decent but unmemorable. There's a theme here, for sure.

Finally, I don't usually mention service as for me the food is the thing, but it was definitely odd that night. As far as I knew BarQ had been open for three or four months already, but it felt as if they hadn't quite gotten things together. The place was near-empty, and the air conditioning was blasting so hard everyone spent the meal shivering. The busboys dripped sauce and food onto the shirts of my friends—not once but twice—while clearing the dishes and failing to stack and balance them properly. Each time, though both CC and JL pointed this out when it happened, it seemed as if the busboys either didn't understand or didn't care because they simply left without expression. We didn't make a big deal about it, but it was definitely suprising in a place where the main courses were priced in the mid-to-upper twenties range.

In short, little reason to return, even with garlic fried milk on the menu.

Canton Gourmet: (Fried) rice and (string) beans

Back to Canton Gourmet, not for the bland crab I wrote about last time (too huge for two people to experiment with again) but definitely for a repeat of the golden needle fried rice and to try some of their other dishes.

TL picked out the string beans with minced pork, which was great. The plump, sweet string beans were tender and snappy at the same time; from the looks of their slightly blistered skins my guess is that they had been quickly blanched in hot oil prior to being stir-fried. Paired with minced pork and pungent, salty preserved radish, this dish was very xia fan, which is an description used in Mandarin when a dish is particularly satisfying with rice and makes you want to gobble it up.

I added on the Peking pork chops, as I was in the mood for something junky and meaty (hey, I get cravings for General Tso's just like anyone else). These chops, while a little fatty, hit the spot and weren't too sweet or coated in sickly red sauce either.

The rice, of course. I heart this rice. Can someone send me some over here in Colorado, please?

And yes, the picture I took the last time was way better. Damn you, lack of natural lighting.

Along with the customary oranges we received a complimentary bowl of hot mung bean soup, sweet and perfect after our meal. With that, I was happy to conclude that Canton Gourmet had delivered the good stuff once again. Once I'm back in New York City, I'm demanding a visit.

Benjamas (ho hum) Taste of Thai

Maybe you can tell—I like Thai food, and the noodle dishes in particular. And as it turns out, TL does too. Most of the time we end up ordering the same thing: Thai iced tea and iced coffee, pad see-ew and pad thai. Following tradition, when we stepped into Benjamas Taste of Thai in Astoria for lunch, it didn't take us long to decide what we wanted.

After the iced coffee I'd had at Zabb Thai, I remembered to I ask for my coffee to be less sweet, which was a good move. Here it was rich and strong, mellowed more by milk than with sugar.

My pad see-ew with shrimp was satisfying though nothing special. Chewy rice noodles, good-sized shrimp, bok choy instead of Chinese broccoli. It had decent flavor and was only a little bit over-sweet, but still, nothing elevated these noodles to extraordinary. It could have benefited from a longer char in the pan.

TL's pad thai was wet, too, but the flavor wasn't bad. Like the pad see-ew, it was good not great, decent enough for what it was, and comparable to the other places in the neighborhood. Probably an accurate summary for the place overall.

Finally winging it: Tebaya

By noon, I had cleaned out the last of my personal items, organized my files, given away my plant, and written out a list of instructions for my successor. After that, there was no more reason for me to linger. After bidding farewell to my coworkers, I walked out of the revolving doors of the building that had been my home for the last 4.5 years.

There were plenty of other things to do that day, including packing to move out of my apartment and getting rid of my remaining furniture. But before I went down into the subway, there was the question of food. What did I want to eat on my last day of employment? How to best commemorate no longer working a nine-to-five?

With TL, we wandered Chelsea for a while before I remembered Tebaya, which I'd long read about and drooled over, especially this tantalizing writeup. After a quick check on the 'berry to find out the exact location, we were in business.

Tebaya's wings are fried and painted with a sweet, peppery soy glaze, making the sticky sesame-strewn wings kin to Korean fried chicken, but not quite. I thought they could have been a little juicier and the pieces a little meatier, but nonetheless they were delectable and (literally) finger-lickin' good. The eight-piece lunch special—which for $6.75 came with rice, salad, and a soda (or iced barley or green tea)—wasn't a bad deal.

We also tacked on a side order of potemochi, deep-fried rounds of glutinous potato with a heavy, chewy consistency like mochi, but a bit softer. Unfortunately they were extremely bland, with not even potato flavor to add interest. Dipping them in the accompanying melted butter and sweet soy sauce perked them up a little, but not by much. The wings had been good, but I probably wouldn't get these again.

One chapter in my life had ended that day. Not that there's anything in particular one should eat on the last day of a job, but aside from the potemochi, Tebaya had ended up hitting the spot. Satisfied, I went home to finish packing.

I leave, Sophie's Cuban arrives

During the last week of my job, I went to drop off my cable box at the Time Warner office on 23rd Street and was excited to see that a Sophie's Cuban had opened up just a few doors down (I spent all these years working in the Flatiron Building, and it was only right before I left that Cuban food arrived to the neighborhood. Dangit). Knowing I only had a limited amount of time to enjoy the convenience of the place being just down the block, I nabbed TL to meet me there at lunch for a taste of la cocina cubana.

It was hectic inside. Sitting at a table required waiter service, so we opted to get our goodies to go and to settle ourselves in Madison Square Park. There, on a bench, we dug into a croquette de yuca, which is a deep-fried torpedo of smooth, buttery mashed cassava root stuffed with ground pork. It's pretty huge at two bucks and quite filling.

Our sandwiches of fried pork with sweet plantains and onions became ones made with roast pork (they had run out of the fried, and neither of us felt like waiting). I'm glad for the switch; lunch was heavy enough without adding deep-fried meat into the picture! I enjoyed this sandwich a lot: the meat was a little dry, but the plaintains tucked between the pressed bread added both moisture and caramelized sweetness. The only thing I would have done is given it several good shakes of vinegary hot sauce for some extra depth and flavor. I shouldn't have consumed the whole thing, especially since I'd already eaten half of a croquette de yuca, but I did anyway and regretted it not at all.

Fancy, on the cheap: The Bar Room at The Modern

Ahh Restaurant Week. I used to get excited about this promotion, until my frustrations with being unable to get reservations and not knowing which would give me the best experience gradually made my interest dwindle. These days, the only time I've gone is when someone else has done the research and made the arrangements already.

Luckily, such was the case with the Bar Room at The Modern. SYB, with his handy AmEx card, got the jump on bookings and snared two dinner seats in the second week of this summer's promotion. I happened to be free, so off we went to explore this "casual" dining room attached to the Museum of Modern Art.

We had a pretty large choice of options—I believe the Restaurant Week menu was nearly the same as the regular menu—and we pretty much shared everything we ordered. So for the first course, there was a tarte flambée, an "alsatian thin crust tart with crème fraiche, onion, and applewood smoked bacon." This kind of thing is right up my alley: savory stuff on dough? Yes please. Though the crust was extremely thin, nearly invisible once held level, it still supported its toppings nicely. And I enjoyed the sizeable portion of arctic char tartare, with arrived in a thin pool of basil-infused oil and with cool, limp threads of daikon laid across its top.

Then it was on to our second courses. See that creamy white layer under that crisp, brown cap? That's FAT. Yeah, a straight up, one-inch-thick rectangle of fat sat on top of my beer-braised pork belly entree, which came accompanied by sauerkraut and ginger jus. I know this is sacrilege but I had to push the fat to the side, concentrating instead on the meat, which was was extraordinarily tender and perfectly complemented by the sauerkraut. Not to worry though—SYB took care of the rest.

SYB's duck confit with "shishito pepper hash, passion fruit, and natural jus" was also delicious. The duck was juicy, tender, and full of rich flavor; it was nothing like the dried-out confit I've had at other places.

The two desserts we picked were the Modern cheesecake with almond crumble, cherry, and fromage blanc sorbets, and the buttermilk panna cotta with strawberry soup and arlette tuile. I had agreed to the panna cotta since they were out of the stone fruit crumble with pistachio ice cream, but in the end I think I might have preferred the cobbler. The panna cotta was fine, as was the strawberry soup, but it wasn't anything special. And there was a chunk of some kind of sour, herbal jelly that lent an odd note to the dish. I much preferred the cheesecake, which was a deconstructed version of the pastry, each element heaped into the bowl individually.

Overall, eating at the Bar Room was a pretty good Restaurant Week experience: the servers were friendly and gracious; the choice, quality, and portion sizes of the food were no different from their usual offerings; and most importantly, the food was good. These are definitely the elements that make a promotion like this a good deal. I guess it's still worthwhile for me to check out Restaurant Week after all….

Asian-inspired cupcakery at Batch

JL and LB of FoodMayhem invited TL and I over for brunch, and beforehand the two of us stopped in at Batch, the newest confection from Chef Pichet Ong. The bakery was just about to open its doors when we showed up, and upon entering I was surprised to see that there was only a meager pastry selection on the counter, and also that Batch's cupcakes were arranged in a refrigerated case (wouldn't the frosting get too hard, wouldn't the cakes dry out?). Nonetheless, we chose four: lemon yuzu, strawberry coconut, green tea chocolate, and "chocolate dragon devil's food." We also picked up two yuzu-lime shortbread cookies (because I kept reading about them) and a chocolate-pecan tart.

Our hosts treated us to a delicious "Mexican-style benedict and chistorra," and afterward we broke out the sweets as a prelude to Apples to Apples and Rock Band. Of the four cupcakes, the lemon yuzu was the crowd favorite with its light, citrus flavor, and followed by the strawberry coconut. I liked that they all had a bit of filling in them (there was a thin apricot jam in the green tea chocolate, a fairly inspired combination), but overall they were too sweet for me, despite being less sweet than some of the others being baked in this city. I guess I'm just not much of a gal for cupcakes.

The two yuzu-lime shortbread cookies were a disappointment—usually I love shortbread, but I tasted neither yuzu or lime, and the cookies themselves were hard instead of crumbly, tough instead of crisp. They were the only two on the counter though, so my guess is that they were the last of those unsold from the day before. Its only a theory, but if it's true: not cool, Batch, not cool. The chocolate-pecan tart was forgettable, too.

I'd be willing to try Batch again, maybe for their carrot cupcake with salted caramel frosting, which looked pretty good when we were in there. But then again it's a bit on the pricey side, and I'm not sure if further experimentation is worth it. After all, these days I'd rather have a macaron than a cupcake….

From Jersey to the Bronx: Mitsuwa and Lobster Box

TL and I had decided on a plan for our Saturday, which was to go to City Island in the Bronx to explore the scene and the seafood. But when we opened our eyes in the morning to a heat wave, we realized it was just way too hot to be outdoors. I suggested a different idea: go to Edgewater, NJ to check out Mitsuwa for the afternoon, and then head to City Island in the evening when it was cooler. So off we went, leaving Astoria and the Grand Central Parkway behind.

The Mitsuwa shuttle from Port Authority, by the way, can either feel hellish or fine depending on the state of the vehicle. On our way there the air conditioning was either not working or extremely weak, so the entire forty-five minutes felt like a slow, hot suffocation of our very souls. Our ride back was better, but going there, I could not get out of that bus fast enough.

Once inside the main building, we were greeted by a massive wonderland of Japanese groceries and a large food court. The cute thing about Mitsuwa's food court is that it features walls and walls of fake, plastic food, so that you can get an idea of what you're ordering. The replicas are pretty accurate.

I should have taken a photo of the plastic version of my fried shrimp and egg over rice from China Table Tokyo Hanten for comparison, but anyway there you have it, the real thing. Fried shrimp in mayo? I assumed it would be something like the shrimp and walnut dish from Amazing 66, but here the mayonnaise dressing was thicker and heavier. It got a little rich after a while—I scraped off the sauce midway—but was still tasty. TL got the beef donburi and hot udon combination special from Kayaba, which he seemed to enjoy.

After eating, we roamed the supermarket portion of Mitsuwa, where I picked up some goods to mail to myself in Colorado. And at Utsuwa no Yakata, just outside of the main marketplace, I bought six beautiful speckled black bowls, which though I wasn't going to bring them to school, were too pretty and too cheap to pass up. There's a reason why it was so crowded that day, too: we had randomly hit upon Mitsuwa's "Kyusyu and Okinawa Gourmet Fair," which featured pastries, fish cakes, and sushi from the two regions being sold from special stands set up in the food court area. I passed these by intending to go back again later, but never did make it again.

Several hours after we got to Mitsuwa we had things to drop off and we were tired, so we went back for a nap. Unfortunately, that meant that by the time we completed the trek to City Island later—getting there involved a bus, a train, playing witness to a fist fight that broke out, and then another bus to the end of the island—it was dark and there was really little else to do but eat.

Not that TL and I were against that idea. So we got a table at Lobster Box, a cavernous restaurant toward the tip of island, which offered us just a bit of a view of the Long Island Sound.

A basket of generic, slightly stale rolls and a plate of carrot and celery sticks appeared. A little tub of "crab dip" came with the veggies, which as far as I could tell was chopped up "krab" or surimi mixed with something creamy, maybe a combination of cream cheese and mayo. It was okay.

TL ordered their "famous" fish and chips, which turned out to be a huge, heaping platter of perfectly fried fish filets but generic, possibly once-frozen french fries.

My penne al la vodka with shrimp was an equally enormous platter, but the pasta was overcooked and the sauce, undersalted. It came with a generous amount of shrimp though, and the salt issue was easy enough to fix. The too-soft pasta, not so much.

We had chosen Lobster Box based on nothing in particular, only that it looked okay and wasn't too crowded. I wonder if we'd have been better off with a different place, or if it was true—as I'd heard and as it seemed from this and previous trips—that all of the restaurants on City Island were mediocre and overrated. Plus, our return trip home featured getting caught in a mass of hundreds of young teenagers flooding the intersection at 125th Street, running back and forth, yelling, and dodging cops (I still have no idea what they were doing, only that I was glad no one got cut by the thrown bottle of Grey Goose, and that the bus arrived before the terrified woman standing next to us managed to convince us to share a cab with her). Given all that, the experience of City Island wasn't terrible, but it wasn't exactly awesome, either.

Sigh.

Photo by TL

But let's not end on a somber note…let's go back to the awesome fake food at Mitsuwa. Fake food, anyone?