Alex Van Buren

In other news, lobster rolls still rule.

This baby set me back $13 (New Yorkers know this to be a bargain) down at the Red Hook Lobster Pound, which hits the Brooklyn Flea on Sunday afternoons. The leggy critters are dragged down here from Maine, and they are darn tasty.

I’d suggest you go for the meat with mayo, not butter (heresy to this butter-lover) simply because the workers keep the buttered meat close to the heat source, so it gets a little overcooked and gummy. The mayo-ed lobster meat comes already flecked with scallions, and — though a little non-traditional — it’s quality stuff. That’s paprika y’all see sprinkled on top.

Meat-to-bun ratio varies wildly, but you know, for $13 with a view of the gorgeous Brooklyn Bridge and the water — and as many hipsters as you could ever possibly want to stand next to — it’s a pretty fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Jacques Torres opened an ice cream shop next to his cocoarie (the official term, according to moi) down in DUMBO. And yes, it’s very good. For $3.30 I got a big scoop of his chocolate chip cookie (not cookie dough; it has actual chunks of his famous cookies) ice cream — I couldn’t wait to take a bite before snapping a pic — in this lovely waffle cone. He’s also got Wicked, the double-chili threat, on offer and a very tasty vanilla. Honestly, I prefer his creations to those of the slightly more pricey Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory down the way.

Old cars, the Brooklyn Bridge and ice cream. It’s gonna be a good summer.

Well, now, this is potentially awkward for all involved.

Last week I wrote about my favorite greasy dance mix, and now I am, yes, going to ginuwinely jump back to food as if it never happened. We don’t need to talk about it.

Yes, that is a DiFara pie. Yes, I went for the first time a few weekends ago. And yes, I agree with Alan Richman, who didn’t put it in his Top 25. Ooh. I’m following a famous critic several days later. Bold!

I should admit that unlike Richman, I’m not a huge pizza fan, but a tacos, huaraches, fried chicken and burgers sort of gal. Dom’s crust was to my taste undersalted, the tomatoes were too choppy, the sausage was uninspiring and for heaven’s sake if you’re going to drizzle half a cup of olive oil (which I love) on top of a cooked pie, it had better be some damn good oil. This wasn’t. It had over-oxidized a bit in its little genie bottle. It was still a fine pie, no doubt. I’m just not sure I understand the mania.

Then again, perhaps I only like to hang out at The Palace, the only place in New York that makes me bust out the inner princess I didn’t know I had, gawk at the chandeliers and run up and down the carpeted steps like Annie in the freakin’ mansion. They just opened their outdoor terrace, and if the Pimms Cups (spiked with lemonade, frothy ginger beer, sliced green apples and cucumber rounds) are as good as they were at a press party then you will be there all summer staring at the pretty people, putting your hand over your eyes and plunking down your credit card for whatever ungodly amount they decide to charge. (I checked: $20).

And then you will dance up and down the steps singing “It’s a Hard Knock Life” until you are thrown the hell out.

 

(c) flickr/walkinline

My friend Maria spent a high school semester in Italy and now packs a bikini and a corkscrew whenever she travels “just in case.” (Just in case she comes upon a sparkling grotto full of hot Roman men and unopened Barolos, I guess.) Then there are those folks who carry beer-openers on their keychains. Well, now that it’s May and full-on party season, I propose a third accessory for traipsing about: a portable dance party.

Lest you think it’s not critically important to have a kickin’ mix prepared for your next fête, think about your single friends, and about how absurd you will look when some women start trying to jam out to Air or Phish or whatever nonsense you’ve put on and then get annoyed by its un-danceability.

So here’s my mix. I brought it to a recent party and if folks hadn’t kept re-plugging in the lights and turning down the tunes, we could have been in full swing, there. (Don’t hate on the Ginuwine. No, he’s no Biz, but he rules.) Do not start this action till 11pm (rest of country) or midnight (NYC). Trust me.

Stevie Wonder, Signed, Sealed, Delivered [your friends will perk up starting now.]
Santigold, Shove It
Phoenix, 1901
Ice cream, Muscles**
Ice cream, New Young Pony Club**
Spank Rock, Backyard Betty [uh, make sure no youngsters are around]
MGMT, Kids
Rihanna, Disturbia
Biz Markie, Just a Friend
The Cars, Shake It Up
Prince, When You Were Mine
New Order, Ceremony
Do You Remember the First Time, Pulp
Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough, Michael Jackson
Here Comes Your Man, Pixies
Lil Wayne, Mrs. Officer
Spank Rock, Shake That
Jazmine, Bust the Windows*
Sean Kingston, Beautiful Girls*
Band of Gold, Freda Payne
I Have a Boyfriend, The Chiffons
Monkey Man, The Rolling Stones
Man in the Cornershop, The Jam
MIA, Paper Planes*
Missy Elliott, Lose Control
Ginuwine, Pony
Summer Love, Justin Timberlake
Love Lockdown, Kanye
American Boy, Estelle*
Vampire Weekend, Oxford Comma
True Skool, Coldcut/ Spank Rock
The Black Kids, Dance With You
Prince, Kiss
Dance, ESG

** a little electro for my taste, but the topic rules.
* these songs may hit overplayedness this year, so if your buddies are dance music savvy, skip ’em.

Photo by Jori Klein.

So I’ve been pretty darn busy of late, but not so busy I couldn’t alert y’all to this under-eight-dolla tilapia banh mi comin’ out from Xie Xie this summer: Turmeric; dill; cilantro; sriracha; caramelized onions; a meaty slab of fish; good times.

“It’s OK… I saved the Schlitz!”

Ah, spring, when a young man’s fancy turns to beer. Hell, my fancy turns that way, too. Vote for the cheap beer you hold dear.

Mini angelfood cakes, Martha Stewart Weddings. (c) Con Poulos.

So the new issue of Martha Stewart Weddings is out (the one featuring many, many Ks of bling on its cover). For my feature
story on cakes (p 204), the supertalented test-kitchen cooks churned
out yet another batch of gorgeous gâteaux, including
these petite angelfood numbers with spun-sugar crowns. They look
surprisingly easy to make if you’ve been lassoed into shower duty this
wedding season or if, like me, you love having a whole cake all to
yourself. The issue should be on-stand near you soon.

Photo via Eater.

(Editor’s correction: I originally wrote this as a first-Friday deal; it is not, but a first-Monday-of-the-month event).

Speaking of hype, The Bell House, the faux-Western music hall-slash-bar in Gowanus, is as rad as you’ve heard. It’s got a long, polished, sexy bar and the sort of dim, twinkly lighting that makes a gal look good while she primps in the mirror. The barkeep was spinning vintage 60s tracks on a recent stopby, and that—along with retro-chic loveseats scattered about—makes me wish it was around the corner.  Better yet, on April 6th, “Flight Club” will launch—a first-Monday-of-the-month deal from 6-8pm. Four beers for $10? “No way could they be a decent size,” I thought when I saw the flyer. But they are: Management confirms that four ten-ounce pours will be offered. Up this month: Smuttynose. Captain Lawrence (a personal fave) and Rogue are tentatively on tap for May and June.

The suds selection:
Smuttonator Dopplebock (8.5% abv)
Farmhouse (8% abv)
Scotch Ale (8.2% abv)
Gravitation Quad (9% abv)
IPA
Brown Dog

As if that’s not enough, Sixpoint’s Otis (an oatmeal stout cask ale) will also be part of the flight. Oh, what? You were going to wash and dry your hair that night? Check it: The Smutty brewmaster will pair each beer on offer with a bit of Murray’s cheese. Given that brews are typically $5-$6 per pint at Bell House, it’s a pretty darn cheap date night. Tip well, folks.

Bunny and burger, Txixito.

The Hype Machine: Most food writers are guilty of stuffing its greedy maw. And although I’m a devotee of the old Latin expression de gustibus non disputandum est (“there’s no disputing taste”), I wanted to weigh in about a few Gotham eateries. Since restaurants can be inconsistent, it’s worth noting I tried each of these dishes only once.

Momofuku Milk Bar Crack Pie
Hype-ometer: 5 (Martha, Serious Eats)
Me: 3.5
There are two types of sweets fans in the world—those who love dulce de leche and those who do not. Crack Pie was conceived for the former. It contains two types of sugar, butter, cream, and a touch of flour. Think about that for a second. This is a pie made out of the buttery, sugary portion of cookie dough. One bite will make your teeth feel like they’re about to fall out of your face. If you’re into that, you’re stoked.

Kampuchea’s bacon sandwich
Hype-ometer: 4 (acquaintance at New York Magazine)
Me: 2
I like my bacon piping-hot and slightly crispy. This was neither, with a gummy texture reminiscent of fake bacon. The roll was big and chewy, overwhelming the meager-for-$11 fillings of smoked Thai pepper, chili aioli, a smatter of veggies, and a couple strips of bacon.

Txixito’s Idiazabal double-patty burger
Hype-ometer: 5 (The Feedbag, Serious Eats, NYMag)
My vote: 5
This burger is out of control. I won’t go on and on about it, since my colleagues here and here did so for me. All I can say is that one is not going to be enough. Bunny (above) and I seriously considered approaching the burly Yankees fans at the table behind her for just one more bite. Idiazabal, a nutty sheep’s milk cheese from the Basque region of Spain, is one of my faves, so I am gonna try to replicate this juicy (20% fat ratio), creamy (the sauce is part-crème fraiche), piquant (cornichons) baby at home. And fail. But oh, what a delicious failure it will be.