WELL, IT’S A new year, which means a new set of resolutions, a new outlook of life, and time to make changes. Without getting too personal, one of those changes I most recently made to start the new year was to stop (I am so far not saying quit) drinking alcohol. To do that, I realized I’d have to remove myself from the types of environments that usually make it easier for me to drink. It isn’t so much that alcohol was an extreme detriment to my lifestyle and health, it’s just that its consequences were, more and more, interfering with the other creative (read, financially paying) venues of my schedule.

So I gave up one of my two daytime bartending shifts at the bar below my apartment. (I was able to actually work two shifts so far without having a drop of alcohol, which, if you know me, is quite an accomplishment.) I am now able to get up early in the mornings and better concentrate of the wishes of my website clients, who have become more numerous over the last couple of months.

Now I can put the time I used to spend recovering from the poor judgments of the day before to more productive endeavors, such as work, and my own personal life. For the first time in almost a year and a half, today was my first (planned) Sunday off, and after running some personal errands, looked forward to enjoying a New York City brunch, and write my first Brunch post for PHUDE!

But not before I got a phone call from a very good friend, Lauren, who, also due to my previous incapacity to be more available and spending whatever free time I had on client work, I hadn’t spoken to—much less seen—in quite a while. She had already expressed envy at not yet having joined me on any of my PHUDE-ie excursions, this was a perfect opportunity to truly reap some of the reward of my new lifestyle decisions.

This morning’s MenuPages “fishing” landed me at a restaurant called West Branch, located on the Upper West Side (right next to Fatty Crab and across the street from my alma mater prep school, Collegiate), so Lauren met me at my place and we were quickly in a cab, crossing the park, and alighting on 77th Street and Broadway.

We had arrived during the last half hour of brunch service; I prefer to eat at restaurants during their off hours, when the staff can give better service and the kitchen has less of a chance to get an order wrong. I had asked for a table by the window—so I could get some decent natural light pictures—and they easily accommodated us since most of the tables were actually getting ready to leave.

I don’t remember when exactly today I informed Lauren that I was drinking booze, but she was considerate enough to asked if I minded if she ordered a Blood Mary with her brunch. I told her, “Of course,” and Sheila (our wonderful waitress!) quickly obliged.

Having already studied the menu, chock full of brunch staples such as omelets, pancakes, French toast (and a bagel with smoked salmon for $14?!), I was planning on ordering the novelties: Cheddar Gourgéres (little finger pastries filled with cheese) and their version of a Cuban sandwich, which they served in a pressed panini. Lauren sated her curiosity by ordering the smoked salmon blinis with crême fraiche and caviar (only $11), and played a safety order of a cheeseburger.

As we waited for our food to arrive, we had a good chat catching up and taking in the roomy comfort of our circular booth—which could have easily sat 5 people—as well the roomy comfort of the rest of the room.

This is the kind of place you come to not just to eat, but to elegate. (I just made up that word!) That is to say, if you want to treat someone special to something that feels elegantly elevated, the rooms of this restaurant can definitely fill the bill, although I assume it loses a lot of its intimacy when it gets crowded, which I still hear it does.

The bread that came out to hold us over during Lauren’s Bloody Mary and my ginger ale was—after tasting, I realized—banana bread; it was warm and slightly toasted at the edges, and a nice not-overly-sweet appetite starter.

The bread was gone quickly, and the appetizers arrived, which were my Cheddar gougéres and her blinis.

Both apps (yes, we shared of course) were quite good, a step up from the kind of finger food you get at upscale corporate dinner functions (is that really a complimemt?). The grougeres—I hardly expected so many—were lighter in texture and taste than they looked, with the taste of Cheddar hitting the taste buds last without any of the texture of cheese. The blinis were light, fluffy little cakes, the salmon was nice and tasty with no fishy aftertaste, which you might expect by the late afternoon hours, and the whole bite was finished delicately with some smooth creme and the high but small hit of saltiness from the caviar.

Halfway through our apps we stopped, choosing to save the room for our main courses, which came to the table, again, more bountiful than expected.

My “Cuban” panini was tasty, possessing all the classic Cuban sandwich flavors while adding the crunch of the crispy toasted sides of the bread. The accompanying homemade potato chips were spot on. Lauren’s cheeseburger, a behemoth, was juicy, and she enjoyed its flavors as well. She was also a really big fan of their homemade pickles, that had powerful notes of mustard and garlic, and was brined with some extra sugar which played nicely with the vinegar.

Their was a wealth of food, as we couldn’t finish any of the dishes. Closing up brunch service we I asked for the check. I had to play a guessing game about what the total would come out to. I knew the price of the food, but was curious as to what Lauren’s two Bloody Marys would total. The check came out to just under $90, which would have otherwise bothered me, since I could think of a number of places that I could get food just as good—and it was good—for less money. A lot less.

But as I looked at the padded, oversized banquettes, and the fresh linens, and the antiqued mirrors, and the high end woodwork, and the dozens of staff members running around, I realized where a lot of the money here goes, and that I wasn’t just paying for food. No one ever does. Here, you’re even paying for the pretty to-go boxes they put our leftovers in.

At West Branch, you’re paying for atmosphere, as I could also imagine many couples cooing in each other’s ears over hangar steak, and many families treating moms to fresh berry parfaits and French toast for Mother’s Day. Had I eaten here by myself I might have left a little bitter about what I had spent. But I was with Lauren, who I hadn’t seen—much less spoken to—in a long while, since before the holidays. We had never dined out together. We were celebrating my efforts to have a more creative and productive new year, as she offered her praise and support.

So, although the food was very good but not special, the occasion was special. And that made it all worthwhile. We both left happy, smiling, glad and grateful we got to spend some quality time together and do something out of the ordinary.

I snapped a few shots from my little pocket point & shoot camera as a reminder not so much about where I was, but who I was there with….

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

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AS SOME OF YOU MAY have figured out from my many food-related Notes, the Lower East Side of Manhattan is presently enjoying a culinary renaissance. Cozy little joints such as Caracas, Black Iron Burger, Porchetta and Wechsler’s have sprung up in the last 18 months or so less and have been receiving praise and accolades from critics and patrons alike. It has become the neighborhood I stroll second most frequently to my surrounding Yorkville (I’ve been below 14th Street this year much more often than I’ve been above 86th Street—And I live on 81st1).

And when a neighborhood and its restaurants start to do this well, the homegrown New York City cynic starts to come out of me. I start expecting one of these fancified, well-reviewed newbies to eventually disappoint. You know us New Yorkers; we love to be the cool, forward-thinking, savvy savant that tells everyone to go to a cool, hip place—in this case, the eateries of the East Village—and then snap that “we’re over it” when everyone eventually does!

But, native New Yorker that I am, I always remain optimistic, if not just open-minded. And as I have trusted the recommendations of my daily UrbanDaddy email subscriptions, I ventured to safely rely on their high opinions of a restaurant where day is night, a food ideaology where a gimmicky premise evolves into an overdue necessity. A place called Permanent Brunch where—yes!—you can have eggs and bacon and toast and jam for dinner!

“Hallelujah!”, you might be thinking, and you’d be right.

I was lucky enough to have my friend Karie—who likewise first found out about this place on UrbanDaddy (definitely worth subscribing to; it’s for nightlife what Daily Candy is for sample sales)—join me on this fun, and ultimately very rewarding, experiment! We shuttled a cab down to 5th Street & 1st Avenue, eventually alighting, it seems, to the restaurant’s storefront (like its brethren fooderies, visually innocuous and understated):

Inside, sleek, chic and intimate, with a very homey balance of modern retro…

…with a very efficient kitchen tucked away in the back.

Cute, yes, but that’s not why you’re here, and it wasn’t why Karie and I were there. The inspired menu decides to not just serve your run-of-the-mill brunch fare, no siree. These folks take the whole food aspect of dining very seriously.

First of all, they have an Artisnal Bacon Bar! Yes, you read that correctly. You can choose what types of “rashers” of bacon you would like as your appetizer or as a side to your entrée like you would choose a bottle of wine (Karie and I forewent (?!) the wine and decided to “Friday” it up with a Bellini and something called a Royalton!).

There were five different bacon options; Karie chose the New Braunfel’s Smokehouse Comal County Peppered Bacon from Texas (See? I told you, these folks don’t play, yo…!) and I selected the customer favorite, the Hungarian Smoked Kolozvari Bacon from Wisconsin.

Her bacon was very good, suffice it to say. My bacon, however, might be the best bacon I’ve ever had. Seriously. (Karie insists that it is!) The first bite caught be wholly by surprise with its many elements of taste, smokiness, “porcinity” (yes, I made that word up!), texture…. As I explained to Karie, it really should be an entrée bacon; it’s that fully realized and not in need of any other food to compliment or compliment it. It has the layered richness of flavors that explains why 2008 was the year of the pork belly. I even ordered extra to take home and they were just as impressive while I was in my pajamas.

I wish I could list the rest of the menu here, but as you can assume by the complexity of the bacon options, the other listed items are just as complex. Haute versions of Shrimp & Grits (with Sweet Corn and Chanterelles) and Peach & Melon Soup (with Chili-Spiked Ricotta) distract you heady possibilities under Appetizers, while the idea alone of entrées such as Ham & Cheese-Stuffed French Toast with Dijon-Maple au Jus and Pan-Roasted Coq au Vin Blanc-Braised Chicken Leg with Wild Rice & Bacon Waffles throws one into Pavlovian apoplexy.

Good thing we ordered a Dinner Biscuit with Housemade Fig Jam to tide us over while our heads oscillated from one side of the menu to the other as if we were watching tennis.

The biscuit was nice and warm and the fig jam was outstanding, boasting great fruit flavor without all that sugary sweetness or syrupy residue. Karie and I both agreed that we would have preferred our butter softer and more easily spreadable (as Karie so poetically put it: “Like a college girl with low self esteem…!” She said it, not me!), but the great flavor of the jam and the butteriness of the biscuit itself rendered that whole point, at least to me, moot.

Decision time. Karie goes for the simple yet elevated Scrambled Eggs with Side Salad and Duck Fat Fingerling Potatoes. I get a bit more adventurous and order the Baked Eggs with Short Rib Ragu, which also—thank goodness!—come with the Duck Fat Fingerling Potatoes.

Long short: All good! All very. I only late in life became amenable to “soft” eggs, because only my mature palate could appreciate the gift that is a warm, silky egg yolks of baked eggs pampering tender strands of beefy, flavorful short ribs being sopped up by thick slices of crisp-crusted, soft-centered, rustic grain bread. And it did. It was one of the dishes better served by the intended interactivity; chop it up, sop it up, and throw it down! I easily cleared my plate (and mini-pot).

Karie’s scrambled eggs, though I didn’t have a bite of it due to my singleminded dinner experience, looked deliciously light and fluffy, as she also indicated that the salad was bright and crisp and was a bright compliment. She seems to be the kind of orderer who goes for the simple stuff first, to see if it’s done well, before being more adventurous. I’m the type of eater who likes to jump right into the deep end of the pool. Karie was, still, very impressed with her dish; so much so that she looks very much forward to coming back to PB (as they refer to themselves as on their website), as do I. (I already know what I’m going to order: the Chicken & Waffles. care to join?)

My dish was very rich, and my taste buds were in need of a palate cleanser. And although I was tempted by the dessert special of the day, a Chocolate Chip and Banana Muffin, I instead ordered the Coffee Milkshake with Fudge Madeleines.

I think our hostess, Kia (and that’s so not how she spells her name!), made the milkshake, with real coffee grounds and the right balance of Ice cream and milk to keep it from being so thick that you either pop a forehead muscle trying to get it up the straw or have to go to a movie and return for it to be malleable enough to consume. And the madeleines, fudge madeleines? Exquisite! Firm and spongy on the outside, and an airlight cloud of fugdy headiness on the inside. My only regret was not taking more time to enjoy it all!

I guess as the sun goes down, the place gets a more intimate vibe as they dim the lights. But the place is comfy enough for pretty much anyone, as a family of six sat at the table next to us as we left.

I always know the sign of a good meal, or even a good night out. It’s when I don’t want to do anything else after so I can end my day on a nice, satisfying, and rewarding note. Karie and I cabbed it back uptown, enjoying the visual of what looked to be a full moon partially hidden by clouds. It was a heavenly sight. One I kept with me as I walked into the apartment, quickly changed into my PJs, savored the last three slices of that Hungarian bacon, and smiled myself to sleep.

Having to work the following morning on a holiday weekend was going to bring my down to earth, but at least I’ll land a little more softly!

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

I AM STARTING TO FIND it ironic that summer, the season that dictates a person wear the least amount of clothes—making more necessary the need for a visually fit physique, is also the season that offers, by default, and ubiquitously, the most unhealthy, yet yummy, food. Every day, or at least every weekend, is like Thanksgiving.

Fried chicken, ribs, potato salad, hot dogs, hamburgers, etc. And it doesn’t seem to be enough that these foods be offered at the more than occasion BBQ, rooftop, beach, or backyard party; now, more and more NYC restaurants are creating and shaping their menu around these girth-expanding comfort foods.

This summer has been the summer of the burger (hot dogs and sausages running a close second). New York Magazine recently listed online their list of New York City’s Best 82 Burgers. Eighty-Two?! We have that many burgers that we can list the top 82 different burgers! (This is why other countries hate us!)

On that list, as well as Time Out New York’s Eat Out Awards Best New Burger of 2009 (with Black Iron Burger getting an honorable mention)—and a fave of The New York Times—is 5 Napkin Burger, located on 45th Street and 9th Avenue.

My friend, Marcy, and I had planned all year to enjoy a “foodie” date and finally got to do so last night, with 5 Napkin Burger being our chosen destination. We were to meet at 6:30 p.m., and although she walked and got there earlier, I cabbed it to get there on time from the Upper East Side. Jumping out of the cab, the awning was hard to miss:

Walking inside, I was surprised at the cavernous expanse of the restaurant’s interior.

I met Marcy at the bar, she already enjoying a tall glass of wine. The bar is a nice waiting area, as wait we did before and after Marcy went to the hostess to tell her that her other party (me) was present. We got one of those light/buzzy things you get at Shake Shack and continued to wait at the bar. And wait we did, both of us fortunate taht we had read the reviews of 5 Napkins Burger on MenuPages and were made well aware that the wait times were a common complaint (and pretty much the source of all of them; very few complaints were about the quality of the food). The bar was a nice place to wait…

…however; the bar staff is cute and seem to make really good—even complicated and upscale—drinks, although I got to enjoy the one male bartender making a Manhattan while wearing baggy jeans that somehow hung on to the bottom half of his boxer brief-covered butt.

After about 20 minutes, and running into a couple of schoolmates from Collegiate, our Buzz Lightyear contraption started lighting up, as we presented it to our hostess and were seated at one of the outside tables. Marcy was so impressed with the bartenders Manhattan-making skills she ordered one for herself as we waited for menus.

The menu is creative, simple, and oddly eclectic (they serve sushi too?!), and obviously built around their main burgers. Marcy and I were creative ourselves, as we decided to start with an order of the Fried Pickles and Pastrami, mostly in honor of our good friend, Shannon, who, from Louisiana, is a big fan. They came out looking brilliant.

They tasted brilliant too. Nice crunchy exterior, with a bright burst of sweet, vinegary kick. The pastrami tasted really and was a welcome stranger—fried pickles are excellent without a partner when done properly!—and the grain mustard sauce added a little sweet heat that opened up your sinuses and let you taste and smell every flavor a hint more.

The saurkraut, Marcy and I both decided, was not only unnecessary, but actually was a hindrance, since it kind of made the crunchy parts soggy. So we just separated the fried pickles and pastrami from the saurkraut on the plate and cut right in and, from there, enjoyed every bite!

Then the burgers came, and in our effort to be creative again, we both ordered different house burgers and substituted two separate side dishes for the fries that come with each burger. (I’m sure the fries would have been swell, but after a while, fries are fries….) I ordered the house 5 Napkins Burger, 10 oz. of ground Angus chuck topped with Comté cheese, caramelized onions and a rosemary aioli, with a side of Cornmeal-Crusted Onion Rings while Marcy ordered the Cheddar-Bacon Burger, the same 10 oz. mound of meat topped with sharp cheddar and bacon, with a side of tater tots.

And then, quicker than we expected…

Yeah. I know. And, yes, it was as good as it looks. The burgers had a great steak flavor and were so thick and meaty, that they were nicely assisted by the other accoutrement and condiments because, even at this thickness, it maintained that perfect meat-to-bread-to-topping ratio. Did it need 5 napkins? If they were paper napkins, probably, but oddly enough, we were given oversized linen napkins, which wound up being very necessary.

We very much enjoyed (of course we shared!) the subtle aromatic of the rosemary and the sweet mellowness of the Comté cheese on the 5 Napkin Burger, and the Cheddar-Bacon Burger had all of those rich familiar flavors with the added texture the generous number of slices of the on-the-thicker side bacon. And, like me, lettuce, tomato and raw onion are not default burger toppings, and we enjoyed the Bacon-Cheddar Burger much more without it.

Marcy and were also prescient in ordering the burgers medium (as opposed to medium rare, as I like them). The thinking was, if we’re going to risk the “margin of error” on the doneness of a burger, we’d prefer to have it more cooked than less. We should have played Lotto because they were cooked to our liking close to perfectly.

The sides were likewise an exercise in simple happiness. The onion rings had a nice gritty and flavorful crunch while the thick-cut onion maintained their firm bite. The tater tots too crunchy on the outside, and surprisingly light and somewhat, nicely, creamy on the inside, with a hint of herbs and very possibly some cheese.

We couldn’t figure out exactly what was mixed in with the potato, but we didn’t care. The sides went down easily, although not totally; the burgers had to be finished—we couldn’t help ourselves!—and there was not that much room left to continue gorging (food coma was eminent).

We had seen a dessert at another table; don’t remember what it was, but we couldn’t figure out how anyone could have any room left in their stomach for dessert. And I don’t know how much room I have left in summer to keep eating burgers and sausages and making fried chicken and steak.

Anyone have any great vegetarian restaurants they recommend I try out…? No, seriously….

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.