TODAY WAS A lazy Saturday, and I knew it was going to be the kind of day I would spend catching up on Netflix movies and doing some remedial housecleaning, and when my once-daily hunger struck, I figuratively spun the food roulette and came up with chicken, long overdue in a summer full of pizzas and burgers.

Also overdue was a return to my favorite roast chicken place in the neighborhood, the popular Peruvian joint Pio Pio, so I ordered a quarter of a tasty, juicy, nicely seasoned, and crackly-skinned chicken with a side of aromatic yellow rice and savory red beans. It comes with a bright and kicky herbal sauce, and for 12 bucks, including tip, I got a hot meal—more than I could finish—in quick time.

Soon after, I was sated, grateful for my pajamas’ elastic waistband, reading subtitles, and happy. Hear, hear.

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

WTH?! IS THERE really a new fried chicken chain that is going to impress us New Yorkers so much that it may challenge our lifelong co-dependency on KFC? And from Korea no less?!

Yes, I was a skeptic too. How could a fried chicken chain from the other side of the globe ever compete here in the states, much less the South and, yes, NYC. But throughout my recreational research this last several months, I kept reading about a very popular fried chicken chain from Korea called Bon Chon Chicken that was started popping up around Manhattan only a year or so ago and was getting rave reviews from trusted periodicals as the New York Times, TimeOut New York, Esquire (who named it the best fried chicken in the country!), and GQ, as well as being voted “best wings in the city” by television station PIX(11).

So after the food website/blog fanfare of their most recent opening on 33rd and 5th this past week, I fortuitously waited until Sunday to take the quick 6 train trip downtown and try it out. The store front was hard to miss even though it was shaded from sunlit by some unfortunate scaffolding, and the poster of GQ’s highest accollade of their goods even warned the KFC Colonel himself.

Walking into a boxy space that belies most fast food chain’s décors, I appreciated the thought that went into its modern yet lo-fi esthetic, with Edison light bulbs for sconces and walls planked with wood from the Brooklyn Bridge, That was countered with a seemingly floating bar (with more than a few beer options), and walls broadcasting MTV-style music videos and the Yankee game from several projectors, one, BTW, even having the nerve to show a KFC commercial.

No just a “wing” place, you can order wings or drumsticks or both (which I did) with either of their signature soy sauce-garlic glazes—sweet or spicy—or both (which I did), and the special comes with a drink and a side, one being a kimchee coleslaw that most won my fancy.

The wings are slowly fried to order, and after reading about other customers’ longish waits during the work week, my order came out PDQ.

Shall I say it…? OMG! This was unlike any other fried chicken experience I’ve ever had, and I mean that in the best way. A pleasant surprise compared to a visit at a previous Korean fried chicken place opening (the disappointing KyoChon Chicken, located on the corner of the same block), this chicken is wonderful beyond the novelty of its preparation.

The chicken’s best (of many) features is the extreme crispiness of its skin, so crispy that customers three tables away could hear my every bite. The slow-frying process gives the skin an almost “chicken cracklin” quality (think very thin crispy pork skin), and coupled with the chicken meat—moist from being encased in its candy-like shell—and the glazes—both rich, deep, intense and perfectly seasoned—became a festival of flavors and texture inside my mouth. The kimchee coleslaw as well was perfectly bright, bold, crisp, vinegary, and spicy.

If Bon Chon keeps branching out, I will have to make the K in KFC stand for Korea instead of Kentucky. And that might happen, especially if owner Simon Lee, who I met, decides to open one up on the Upper East Side. (Oh, please, please, please, please!)

That way, with my former favorite neighborhood fried chicken places, Popeye’s and Chicken Stop, now gone, deciding where to satisfy my local fried chicken jones would be as easy as ABC.

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

COMING HOME FROM Dinosaur Bar-B-Que yesterday, I passed by the surprise “reopening” of a Chinese restaurant formerly called Noodles 28, now renamed Ruby Rocks. It sported a whole new look, with a storefront that had the design of a chain restaurant, and this new name that was far less evocative of any thematically Asian cuisine.

But I picked up a takeout menu anyway, always open to trying new Asian restaurants in Yorkville, as they are numerous and ubiquitous and I always want to make sure where the best food is being served.

Still having the takeout menu by my computer as I worked this afternoon, I quickly perused it for lunch specials, which they have listed. The menu offered food of many Asian variations, including Chinese, Thai, and Malaysian, usually another negative sign that a restaurant is trying to cater to the lowest common denominator.

But I was just hungry and curious enough to give it a go, and with their two-course special options, I figured I could get a more accurate idea of how well they executed the various cuisines.

I popped in around 3 p.m., to a quiet but serviceably modern looking and clean, minimally décored space, assuming I had just missed a possible lunch rush.

The attentive waitress was quick to seat me and recommend a Thai iced tea for my beverage while I scanned the rest of the menu. I obliged.

Great start. With much of the flavors of a Chai tea, this Thai tea exhibited many of same characteristics, being slightly creamy, rich with tea flavor and naturally but not overly sweet. This was a good call on her part.

The two-part lunch special consists of an appetizer and entrée, as to be expected, with options of Chinese wonton soup, Indian satay, Japanese edamame, and Thai spring rolls. I chose to start with an order of crispy chicken dumplings that arrived in a bowl with an apricot-plum sauce on the bottom of it.

Yes, they looked more like empanadas, but the seasoned, minced chicken flavors ran more genuinely “Eastern”, freshly and brightly seasoned and minced with crisp bits of carrots and Napa cabbage, properly accented by the fruity sweet dipping sauce.

For my main, I ordered something called chow kueh teow (I just pointed to it on the menu, knowing full well I would only make a complete ass of myself attempting to actually pronounce it properly), A malaysian stir-fried dish of rice noodles, bean sprouts, black soya, egg, and chili paste.

The portion was more dinner sized, and, again, my skepticism was foiled by an ample amount of chicken meat (although I think I remember ordering it with beef….), and scant traces of MSG or cornstarch. The dish, while delivering on its promise of spice, was refreshingly light, with the impressive rice noodles, rightfully gummier and spongier than regular noodles (think, Xi’an Famous Foods hand-pulled noodles), making any residual cooking juices get absorbed into them while the flavored oils clung to them. Not that I was expecting the worst, but even being supportively optimistic, this lunch me surpassed my expectations at every turn.

I will still go to Wa Jeal or Ging for my favorite Chinese, and to Land for my favorite Thai, etc., and though initially “jaded” by the prospect of the addition of yet another snappy “Asian” joint, the ready-for-the-mall-named Ruby Rocks actually turned out to be—how shall I put it?—semi-precious….

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

WE FOOD BLOGGERS have been increasingly using each other’s sites as references for what restaurants to check out next. In our research, we happily discover a place that not only isn’t being featured on all of the “major” food blogs, like GrubStreet or Eater.com, but on small, almost unheard of places that enjoy avidly loyal fan bases.

I recently came across one of these places while checking out someone’s photos on Yelp!. It was of a Jamaican jerk chicken place—located just a few blocks from me!—called Winston & Tee Express Jerk Chicken, a non-”sit in” place that only does takeout and delivery.

After a friend of a friend also recommended the place to me yesterday—without prompting—I figured I’d try the my first jerk chicken dish in quite a well, ordering a small lunch platter of it , served with some rice, peas and fried plantains. Add one Jamaican-style beef patty and one chicken patty to cover the $10 delivery minimum, and I had a hot lunch at my front door within 10 minutes.

It had been a while since I had jerk chicken, but this was tasty enough to satisfy my curiosity and my palette. The tender chicken was nicely seasoned and slow-cooked patiently to make for some very tender chicken, replete with the flavors of its island seasoning, even rendering the small percent of the chicken’s fattier parts into wonderfully chewable morsels. The rice was nicely aromatic and the sole but oversized, thick slice of plantain was comfortably “toothsome”, nicely caramelized without being overly sweet.

The patties of the much more common variety. Being that that’s I’ve usually ever had them, I could enjoy, at least, the “comfort food” nostalgia that it imparted, satisfying in both the aggressively spiced, minced meat filling and the flaky, golden pastry. The one major downfall was that the chicken patty had less than half of the filling than the beef did, and was a bit more pasty.

Adding another “safety” destination place to my neighborhood of culinary exotica, I look forward to regarding more fellow food bloggers as informed travel agents (like when my friend, DMANBURGER, helped book my a flight to Naples, by way of Upper East Side newbie, Tiella) in the future.

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

IT HAS BEEN miserably hot in New York for the last couple of weeks, oppressive to the point of being not just a physical burden but a mental one as well. The air sweats for you, and I was drenched as I suffered walking the few blocks to the train station (then going back home and returning to the same station once I discovered I didn’t have my credit card), the exponentially Hades-like climate of the subway platforms, and the expediated walk across E. Houston to Allen Street.

I was late to meet my perennial PHUDE partner, “Trixie”, at the well-received Cambodian restaurant on Rivington Street called Kampuchea, and she marveled at the high level of moisture my shirt showcased as unintentional art when I finally arrived and met her at their bar.

I looked like I had just swam there, so I immediately cooled off my body with a tall glass of ice water, their frigid air conditioning, and several bar napkins, then cooled down my temperament with a shot of Patron silver and a “hands-only” hug from Trixie (who was coolly dry and stunningly beautiful, as usual), and took a few pictures of the space as we were directed from the Norry section of the space and sat at our table by our waitress, the very professional and impossibly pretty Anna.

I had perused their menu online earlier in the day, and was looking very much forward to having sweetbreads for the very first time (long overdue) and following that up with their mackerel platter.

Alas, Anna had to inform that sweetbreads were no longer on the menu (next time!), and as Trixie ordered a side of the grilled corn and one of their shrimp numpang (Cambodian sandwiches) with coconut milk, coconut flakes, chili mayo, cucumber, and cilantro, I decided to sample their small plate of fried chicken with basil, flavored salt, and lemon, and grilled mackerel that sat on top of a sald of fennel, cucumbers, roasted peppers, Vietnamese mint chili, and a fish sauce vinaigrette.

The whole room smelled of wonderful food, so it was a great relief when the starters arrived in a quick time. The grilled corn was had great, sweet bites to it, with a hint of chili, some bright lime juices, and some playful coconut flakes.

The fried chicken was surprisingly light and tender, the skin dutifully crispy, and tastes broadened by the various seasonings in the salt.

Our “mains” soon followed. Trixie’s shrimp sandwich had plump, flavorful shrimp were complimented by bright, crispy veggies, with the hits of heat and acid from its dressings pleasantly countered by the cooling sweetness of coconut.

Amazingly, after forkfuls and handfuls of these bold flavors, the mackerel dish succeeded in showcasing the inherently more nuanced properties of the warm and light, flaky fish and its crisp, slightly seasoned skin, topping a melange of a colder salad that stood well on their firm textures and naturally clean and earthy aromatics.

The extremely well-traveled Trixie complemented the restaurant on elevating the quality of Combodian cuisine, in comparison to the meals she’s actually had in Cambodia, which she said ran far more bland. I have nothing else to compare it to besides other restaurants, and Kampuchea has a lot to be proud of.

It’s a hot restaurant with a cool vibe, with dishes that successfully marry the concepts of cool and hot in flavors as well as temperatures. By meal’s end, my shirt had returned to its original color, and even though I had arrived a little “hot under the collar” literally and figuratively, thanks to this enjoyable meal—and the company of my cool, hot friend, Trixie—I wound up, literally and figuratively, a very cool customer.

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

SOMETIMES, A GOOD eating experience is not only about the actual food. Sometimes, food can simply be a compliment to to a whole other event. Kind of like a more fully realized version of hors d’ouevres. In this case, the event was a therapeutically pleasant lunch with “Trixie” (who, if you don’t know by now, is a long-time friend and PHUDE partner), and more so, the fact that we got to meet for a lunch that we could actually enjoy outside.

Kismet, really, how that came to be. My friend, Amy, had emailed me a PDF listing a whole slew of great places to eat, drink, and be seen, and I earmarked all the cool looking places that offered outdoor seating. Then there was this week’s review of a restaurant called Gascogne in Chelsea that was accompanied with such an appealing photo of their open-air dining space that I made a To-Do in my iCal app to prioritize soon choosing a outdoor seating resto for an upcoming post.

Then, leaving Trixie the responsible of choosing where we would lunch, she, at the last minute, came up with a place I had surprisingly never heard of called East of 8th. She didn’t even know it had an open backyard for dining until she met me there; I had done some quick Googling to know this before arriving, though I myself was surprised by the small pool.

As you can tell, it’s a very quaint—and very quiet—area, as Trixie and I easily and quickly settled into an in-depth and entertaining conversation, the items listed on their otherwise appealing lunch menu becoming more of an afterthought.

Trixie ordered the grilled chicken wrap of the regular lunch menu. (Yes, this is the same girl that ordered the chicken at Hill Country, but her food choices have a lot more to do with ordering healthy food, and in no way shows any lack of adventure in her appetite.)

I ordered the soft shell crab, one of their lunch specials, with fried and layered over sautéed vegetable, and topped with a tomato and corn salsa.

This dish was, yes, pretty—how could it not be with that background?!—and tasty as well, with enough of the vegetables’ flavors complimenting the crab, which, in this very common preparation, tends to be more about the novelty of eating crab shell then letting the crab meat’s true flavors sing.

Again, though, this place, with its almost Alice in Wonderland ambience, is a place where the food supports a bigger idea. It’s located right next to a megaplex and conveniently located near several large and small office buildings. You would celebrate birthdays here, or grab a quick plate before catching that 8:10 movie. This is a place where you bring the one you like on the date right before you get serious. It is the theoretical appetizer for what should be the meal of a greater, good time.

Trixie and I don’t get to catch up with each other as often as we would like, and this lunch was much more about our fun hour together than about anything we were eating. Sitting and eating outdoors was the dessert to the main course of our just hanging out together. And the food of East of Eighth was the accurately figurative “icing on the cake” afterthought.

Oh, the cherry on the icing on the cake. The live fish and fresh water turtles in the backyard pond…!

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

AS SOME OF YOU FREQUENT readers know, I am always trying to find new and exciting ways to “change up” breakfast, the meal that has for generations offered, sadly, the very least variety of the three meals of the day.

I have assumed the problem has been the paucity of “breakfast” ingredients to choose from; once you stray to far from eggs and bacon, any dish begins to lose any semblance of what is also the most traditional meal of the day.

So, yesterday morning, I wondered how to get other foods into a morning meal and have it still taste like breakfast. I decided to use chicken—ubiquitous on lunch and dinner menus—and came up with an idea to make a bacon-based dressing with some element of egg in it.

That idea evolved into a Bacon & Egg Vinaigrette, which I made by fully beating an egg, then adding to it a small bit of water, salt, fresh cracked pepper, Dijon mustard, white wine vinegar, and the rendered fat oil from three strips of bacon, reserving some in the pan for later.

I deboned some chicken thighs (I could have used breasts, but thighs have dark meat as well, which has its own flavor properties and consequentially, doubles the taste of the chicken), seasoned them with salt, pepper, tarragon and rosemary, and placing them skin side down in a hot skillet with oil.

A let those cook in the skillet until the skins started to get a nice golden brown color going, then flipped them over in the skillet and place the skillet in the oven, preheated to 425°, to roast for another 7-10 minutes, checking the color every once in a while.

In the meantime, I stirred the egg, bacon,water and vinegar mixture in a small pot over low heat, letting it reduce a little and getting a smooth, consistent texture and color. I threw some green beans in the pan with the reserved bacon oil and tossed them over medium heat with a salt, pepper, a little bit of butter, and some red pepper flakes.

On a plate, I threw down a thin mattress of mixed arugula, arranged the cooked green beans across the leaves, with all the beans facing the same way. I took the boneless Roasted Chicken Thighs out of the oven, cutting two of the thighs into strips and placing them on top of the green beans.

I then generously spooned the bacon & egg vinaigrette over the thigh strips, beans, and arugula.

The first thing I looked for—and, probably the first thing you’re curious about—was the the taste of either egg or bacon, or both. Gladly, they were both nicely represented, with enough of each ingredients flavor convincing my tongue that this indeed tasted like breakfast. An unexpected added bonus was that this crispy, slight salty chicken skin was completely evocative of biting into an actual bacon strip.

The vinaigrette also added nuance to the earthy, herbal chicken meat, brightening the meat’s flavor with its hits of vinegar, as the red pepper flakes balanced the natural sweetness of the green beans and woke up the corners of my mouth, like a jolt of coffee, preparing me for the rest of my day.

The rest of the day spent at home, as I am a freelancer who works from home (an arrangement that has as many drawbacks as it does benefits). But, as many of my readers also know, I also like to “recycle” my cooking efforts into whole new meals.

So, for lunch, I reheated one of the roasted chicken thighs in the oven (you can’t nuke chicken and hope to retain the skin’s favorable dynamics), while I incorporated two parts mayo into a part of the vinaigrette, smearing my new bacon & egg mayo on the top and bottom halves of a sandwich bun, added the cooked bacon bits I used to make the bacon oil, and topped it with mixed arugula.

Everyone’s got a boneless fried or grilled chicken sandwich. Here’s my submission for a roasted chicken sandwich. (Trust me, this was a very good idea!)

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

YES, IT’S THAT time of year again. The time of year most foodies prepare for summer cooking. That almost always involves all sorts and types of meat being slowly massaged or fervently licked by open flames.

Barbecue season is upon us, however, us Yankees can’t claim any real BBQ tradition as we could claim having a indigenously unique and noteworthy take on sushi.

I was lucky enough to grow up with the excellent soul food and southern cooking of my mom and dad—from North Carolina and South Carolina respectively—and reappropriated many of their recipes myself, having over the years grown cynical of any “Southern-style” eateries that pop up the New York City area.

But the last few years have seen a proliferation of highly regarded BBQ joints, and though I don’t expect to find or decide on a “best” (for the same reason I won’t declare a best pizza or best burger), I could have some great fun doing some waist-expanding research.

So it was this afternoon as my best PHUDE partner, “Trixie”, and I scheduled a lunch together at a openly homey and welcomingly southern-décored space called Hill Country, already named “Best BBQ in New York” by New York Magazine and Time Out NY, as well as “Top 10 BBQ in the U.S.” by the Wall Street Journal. (Honorable pedigree indeed…!)

It’s Texas style barbecue, which basically means the meat gets cooked, smoked “low and slow” and sauces are an afterthought at the diner’s discretion. And in typical Texas BBQ style, your order card gets filled out as you order your meats and sides.

I ordered a quarter pound each of moist (fatty) beef brisket and pork spare rib, with a shipped-directly-from-Texas(!) Kreuz Market sausage link, adding side servings of macaroni & cheese and cold potato salad. Trixie,in fine “girl” fashion, ordered the (Bell & Evans” chicken and a side salad, though she did go strong by also ordering the sweet potato bourbon mash.

No complaints here! Everything we ate was more than serviceable (faint praise? no!). I’n my sole opinion BBQ comes out two ways: bad or excellent. A sacrilegious ideology to many, sure, but I am under no impression that I going to find the “best”—or near to it—BBQ in New York City, save what my own family, from the South, make at family get-togethers and cookouts.

But short of that, the brisket was juicy, really tender and full of beefy flavor. The ribs were served well by their peppery spice rib, letting the pork flavor eventually shine through with just enough saltiness to get all of my taste buds enjoy the fun. The sausage’s taut skin happily snapped to reward me with a nicely seasoned, almost crumbly meaty interior dribbling with its own rendered fats.

Trixie’s chicken—of which I only had one piece of, with Hill Country’s own table perky BBQ sauce—was likewise moist, with a flavorfully smoky skin that didn’t overwhelm the chicken meat’s own tastes.

New York City is full of BBQ joints promising authentically cooked meats in the styles of any number of Southern states (there was another such place directly across the street!), and it seems safe to assume that folks north of the Mason Dixon aren’t as picky about their barbecue as they should be. And as Trixie and I paid and walked out, I thought how lucky the city’s denizens should realize they are that restaurants (others including RUB, Dinosaur, Wildwood,etc.) are starting to take their BBQ seriously.

Even in Midtown….

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

Hill Country on Urbanspoon

WELL, I’VE FINALLY done it! The latter part of this blog’s name has finally been duly addressed. So far, the nyc part of the name has been somewhat disingenuous, seeing as I have only done Dining Out posts on places within the confines of Manhattan.

That was up until today, when, after nearly seven months, I finally got my ass on a train—represented by a letter instead of a number—and ventured off island to a recently reopened but extremely popular place called Pies ‘n’ Thighs, just one stop into Brooklyn on the L train, and a quick 8 minute walk to S. 4th Street and Driggs Avenue.

The walk was an adventure in itself. I last lived in Brooklyn twenty years ago, one stop in on the F train. This was the new Brooklyn was becoming the new Brooklyn. I lived with a whole bunch of young Swedes in a loft on Jay and Water Streets, and there was barley any gentrification going on any where in the borough.

But coming out of the subway on Bedford Avenue, I had never felt so removed and yet so familiar to my native city. Most of the building were small, no higher than 3 stories, and reminded me of long stretches of blocks in Washington Heights, Queens, and even some neighborhoods in middle income Westchester.

But the people, ah, a whole ‘nother story. Yes, there were hipsters—guys in skinny jeans or plaid shorts, retro t-shirts or plaid short sleeves, girls with face piercing, dread locks, and/or tattoos. Everyone in black boots, black sneakers or flip-flops. Still, scattered among them, some cultured elderly, friendly Hispanic families, and beautiful folks who, if they’re not models, they damn well should.

I almost giggled to myself feeling like I was way overdressed for this neighborhood. Wearing khaki slacks and a blue-pinstriped, long-sleeved Oxford, I felt that people were staring at me, wondering if I was a process server or a van driver.

And coming across Pies ‘n’ Thighs—with its humbly decorated storefront—I must have looked like a food critic as well, asking permission to take pictures of the space.

I ordered the chicken dinner, which came with a homemade biscuit and my choice of side. I chose the well-favored mac ‘n’ cheese.

I may have been disoriented on my whereabouts while walking through Brooklyn, but eating this chicken took me well out of New York and down south to South Carolina, where I used to eat and savor every bite of great Southern home cooking like this while visiting my grandmother (especially with the classic oldies AM station music playing in the background).

The chicken had cracklin’ good skin and was minimally seasoned, letting the the flavor of the chicken shine through, its meat tender and juicy. The biscuit was excellent. I was worried when I didn’t see any butter on my plate or table to put on it, but it was buttery and moist enough that it didn’t suffer without it. A nice flaky exterior, an aromatic, airy interior, the biscuit tasted great in its own bitefuls or coupled with a pull of the fried chicken. The mac ‘n’ cheese, drizzled with hot sauce, was creamy smooth, cheesy without that extra “sharpness”, and its pasta maintaining an almost perfect al dente firmness.

I finished the entire plate—and took my time doing it—looking at the at a window display of all the pies that they are also know for. I decided instead to see if I had room for one of their Best Of New York (Magazine) Doughnuts of 2007.

Another throwback to the old soul kitchens and diners, this was a finely fried and sugar-and-cinnamon-dusted cake doughnut. The firm ones that maintain their slightly crunchy outsides and not-too-spongy insides, even after and through cold milk- and hot coffee-dunking.

Being pride of my own fried chicken recipe, it’s not like I feel the need to travel to Williamsburg to scratch every future chicken itch. But if you are more geographically conveniently located, it’s definitely worth a trip. I assume their other items are as well, such as shrimp and grits (not so readily available in my neighborhood or own kitchen), pulled pork sandwiches, spicy black-eyed peas, or one of their, also award-winning, pies.

It should likewise be worth the trip to Brooklyn, to eat food that, surprisingly and happily, takes me—now a truer New Yorker—much farther away!

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.

SOMETIMES GOOD INTENTIONS BACKFIRE. CASE in point, one of the most anticipated items coming up our the new Spring/Summer menu at Dorrian’s Red Hand Restaurant.

As with all of the Specialty Burgers on the Dorrian’s (including the new Blue Mountain Burger), this particular new item is the product of my culinary imagination,in no small way influenced by my love of the excellent tacos I’ve been enjoying from nearby Cascabel Taqueria.

So, with trying to fill out the Appetizer section, I was trying to figure out another way for us to use the kitchen’s shrimp, which have been selling very well in Peel ‘n’ Eat presentation (if we can sell it, we can buy more in quantity for a lesser price). I thought a blackened shrimp prep would be nice for the warmer weather, cutting the spice with a cooling sour cream based sauce and brightening it with some citrus.

And since we were trying to come up with more ways for customers to share apps (sometimes their not in the mood to each have a burger with fries), “tacos” popped into my head and out of my mouth. At least I could be secure enough in defending that no one else in the neighborhood had blackened shrimp tacos, absolving us of being remotely guilty of “stepping on anyone’s toes”.

Alas, the practicality, the chef argued, of Peel & Eat shrimp is that it presents less prep for the kitchen—no peeling by the sous chef—so he decided to scrap using shrimp, and instead use already “prep”-able—and “spice”-able on the fly—grilled chicken and/or steak, and has made an admittedly delightful and tasty version of what we will be calling Pub Tacos.

Now, I’m in a pickle! If you ask me, now, where to go on the Upper East Side to get a great taco, I’ll probably just pretend to get a phone call on my cell, excuse myself, and disappear…!

Bun Apple Tea!

.kac.