Big brains, little burgers at Dempsey's

The email went around a few days beforehand. "Wednesday night for beer and Quizzo. If you guys come, the room may burst with the sheer force of our combined brain power. What do you say?"

Hell yes was the answer. Running late from getting mani-pedis courtesy of GQ, MH and I showed up Dempsey's Pub after most people had eaten already. Still, it wasn't too late to catch happy hour and to order a plate of sliders before the game began. I'm no burger expert, but these were really satisfying: beefy, juicy little morsels on appropriately squishy bread that melded with the meat and melted cheddar. For seven bucks (plus a dollar for cheese), four sliders was a good deal.

Unsatisfied with the cooling remains of other people's sweet potato fries, MH and I asked for an order of regular fries and I swiped the dipping sauces from the sweet potato fries to eat with them (red pepper mayo, ranch, and honey mustard). Both fry variations were pretty good, and a deep, heaping bowl was only five bucks.

In short, cheap and decent pub food to be had at Dempsey's. And did the room burst with our extensive command of useless knowledge? Unfortunately, the Quizzo gods knew all about divide and conquer—there were enough of us that we were forced to split up. In the end, it seemed our strength was in beauty and not brains: none of us won, but one of us walked away with a prize for "best dressed." Oh well! Next time, next time.

Sauce, basil, and no cheese: Jianetto's Pizza Truck

For four girls meeting up for lunch in midtown Manhattan, pizza off a truck was the order of the day. XJS had less than an hour to get back to her office, and JL wanted to try Jianetto's after reading the review on Midtown Lunch.

I met JL at the small plaza in front of the truck, and somehow she was already bearing a full pie.

As well as an order of Sicilian rice balls, broken up and covered in sauce…

…which came with garlic knots. Once XJS arrived and MH secured us drinks, it didn't take long for the four of us to dig in.

Here's my slice. Doesn't look too remarkable, does it? Unfortunately, its taste matched its appearance. From reading the review, I knew not to expect much cheese (if at all), but I didn't expect the pizza to taste so much like a cheap breadstick spread with sweet marinara. I didn't mind the cheese-lessness and the whole leaves of basil were a nice touch, but I wanted dough with more character beneath that sauce. As for the rice balls and garlic knots, they were fine, but not mind-blowing. With limited time in one of the best cities to eat, I was underwhelmed by the experience, and so was JL.

At least it was fast….

Come into the garden, Maud

I had moved out of my apartment in Astoria and was living in my parents' house for a couple of weeks before I flew out to Colorado. Since my last writeup, the garden had seriously flourished. Back in May, it had looked like this:

Now it was August, and that bare soil had become home to plenty of different fruits and vegetables.

There were cucumbers—dark green, spiny, and seedless. Delicious plain, in salads, or served grated with soba.

Chives, which are good in fillings for steamed bao.

A variety of purple basil, which I think might not have been an intentional planting. Since we bury our compost, seeds sometimes take root in the soil randomly.

Bitter melon, which my mom likes to cook in a clear soup with Taiwanese preserved pineapples and chicken pieces. I don't like bitter melon in many other ways, but the soup is delicious.

And for me, the highlight: sweet, juicy tomatoes that I eat still warm from the sun. I wait for these all year—I hate those pale, hard, styrofoam balls being sold as "tomatoes" in supermarkets these days.

It's too cold now and the season is over, but each year I look forward to the summer hoard. The flavors and textures, especially in the tomatoes, are much more vibrant. All these vegetables ever need is a rinse to loosen stray crumbs of dirt; again, there are no pesticides or artificial fertilizers involved. For my parents, the garden takes plenty of hard work, but the bounty is definitely worth it.

Perfect Team Corporation: Winsome dim sum

Don't ask me how they did it. At the 18th Annual Hong Kong Dragon Boat Festival held at Flushing Meadows Corona Park, friends RL and IJD each gulped down twenty-five and fifteen dumplings (respectively) in a two-minute dumpling-eating contest. Up against the formidable Floria Lee, who ate forty-three dumplings the previous year and thirty-eight this year, neither of them stood to win first place, but what my friends could do once the contest ended was…eat more dumplings.

Yes, somehow the idea of having dim sum in Flushing afterward didn't make them automatically throw up. And with a name like Perfect Team Corporation Restaurant, what better place to have a post-contest meal? Maybe RL and IJD could each eat enough dumplings there to make it to thirty-eight. Or thirty-nine, for the win.


As soon as we sat, the rest of us—who hadn't been swilling dumplings down our throats—began the mad process of securing food for the table. It was still pretty busy considering it was around two, and the carts clattered by, fragrant clouds billowing out every time a steamer lid was lifted. I love you, dim sum.

The crystal shrimp dumplings, meat-filled fried mochi, and meat-filled fried taro balls were all excellent. The Chinese broccoli, though good, didn't stand a chance against these delicious morsels. It was only there to give us some peace of mind. You know: "Oh yes, this isn't really so unhealthy."

Equally excellent were the meatballs, leaf-wrapped rice packets, and the cha shao–stuffed pastries. That last one might have been my favorite of the whole meal…or no, maybe it was the fried taro balls. Or maybe the shrimp dumplings. Oh hell.

No dim sum meal is complete without an order of shrimp rice noodle rolls. The beef rice noodle rolls were good, too.


Everything was awesome, but by this point, we were getting most of the same carts over and over again. Maybe this place is all about quality over quantity, but I really wanted a bit more selection. It's dim sum, maaaan! We ended up ordering only a few new items and getting repeats of some of the others. Above, the spare ribs with pumpkin and the shrimp-stuffed peppers were nice, but the turnip cake didn't have enough turnip and the lotus-leaf rice packet wasn't nearly as fragrant as the small packets of leaf-wrapped rice we got in the beginning. Sadness.

But we were winding down anyway. And RL and IJD were finally feeling the weight of the dumplings in their stomachs and had stopped eating altogether. I don't know if they caught up to Floria by the meal's end, but one thing's for sure, even when you (don't) win some, you dim sum!

A young man's fancy leads to 44 & X

The photo quality is putrid, I know. This is what happens when you eat in a chichi restaurant that has dim lights.

It's a long way from the subway when you're headed to 44 & X, a Hell's Kitchen restaurant a little off the beaten path. Especially when you're wearing a flouncy white dress and a pair of strappy sandals. What was the occasion? RT had cooked up the idea of "Fancy Night," an evening of good food, good drinks, and four good friends. All of it, of course, to be undertaken in our fanciest gear.

Wearing high heels in the battle through Times Square nearly did one of us in (not me) but we all made it to the restaurant looking appropriately snazzy. There, we settled in to its sleek decor, its menu of American classics with a spin, and its appropriately good-looking staff. I was torn about what to order, but after hemming and hawing between the turkey and wild mushroom meatloaf—wrapped in bacon!—and the buttermilk fried chicken—um, wrapped in crispy battered skin!—I decided on the latter. (Really, it was the waffle listed as an accompaniment that finally swayed me; I'm always looking for those perfect chicken and waffles.)

The piece I received was huge. Along with the aforementioned waffle, it was served with a pile of braised collard greens. Two quibbles: while the waffle was listed as chive, I didn't detect a single bit of veg either in taste or appearance; the black pepper and maple syrup reduction drizzled on top didn't do anything for me (aside from making the waffle soggy). But otherwise, the chicken was juicy and the breading crisp and greaseless. Everyone else seemed pretty happy with their choices, too.

After polishing off as much as we could we shared an order of the Kona coffee crème brûlée and a fruit crumble with ice cream on top. The first was adequate, and the second was overpoweringly sweet; a simple glass of wine might have been the better ending. But luckily for all of us there was plenty of that ahead, too, for this fancy night was still young.

At Seva, sweetness and light united

TL and I were on our way to Chinatown and the Brooklyn Bridge for the afternoon, but while walking around Astoria looking for a new place to eat, we ran across Seva. I had just read the raves on Chowhound a day or two before, but neither of us realized how close the place was to TL's apartment until we walked down a few blocks and there it was. The clean, bright, welcoming restaurant called to us and we didn't resist.

When we sat, we were presented with two thin pappadum crackers, wholly unlike the tough, soggy specimens I had been served at Nirvana. These were delightfully crisp, and the tamarind and mint chutneys served alongside seemed fresher than usual.

We both ordered the lunch special ($8 for soup, entree, rice, and drink, available on weekends too), but tacked on an order of the "bok choy crispy curls"—perfectly fried, nearly greaseless fritters of chopped bok choy in a gram flour batter. It was also served with a killer mint raita; the thick, tangy, slightly sweet yogurt sauce was a great accompaniment to the fritters and to the rest of the meal, too. Also, at a mere $3 for a full plate, this appetizer was a steal.

This was followed by Mulligatawny soup, which in the past I hadn't been fond of. But at Seva, it was completely different; I'm glad it came as part of the lunch special or I would have missed out. It was excellent, really thick and rich, like split pea soup but with Indian spicing. A squeeze of lime gave it a nice tang and I found myself spooning up the entire bowl.

After our dishes were cleared, a pot of basmati rice and a thick, fluffy round of naan (ordered separately) arrived along with our entrees.

The lamb korma (on the right) was lighter than most versions but every bit as flavorful. Same went for the chicken tikka masala. And TL, who doesn't normally do well with lamb, was fine with the mild-tasting meat that was in the korma. The curries seemed fresh and were perfectly spiced, and both of us loved that we didn't feel heavy and leaden after we were done eating.

We spent some time chatting with the pleasant, soft-spoken owner/chef of Seva, who I could tell was really dedicated to his customers and the restaurant. He explained that most of the spices were shipped to him by his mother in India, and that his light touch with ghee and cream in the dishes was intentional. All I can say is, I'm all for it! I left Seva feeling cheerful, which is a sign that I've had some really good eats.


Afterwards, it was on to Chinatown, City Hall, the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn Heights, and Coney Island. I don't know about TL, but my satisfaction with Seva lasted me throughout the entire day. By the time we finally made it home we were too tired to do much else besides order from Papa Johns, which under normal circumstances might have been anticlimactic. But with an awesome meal and an awesome day under our belts, neither of us needed anything more to wow us.

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.