Want: The Fat Radish

I have a thing for radishes--and my cousin does too.  We share them at my home on a regular basis, and we shared some at The Nomad, and we recently shared an email pining after that particular occasion.  I bought a black radish today--it is hopelessly romantic, like black velvet, the Anna Karenina of radishes.  I will slice it very thin, drape it with a little olive oil, sprinkle it with Galveston county salt, and offer it a little butter on the side.  Radish, salt, butter: a combination that I think of as part of my wardrobe.  If my clothes had a taste, it would be this.  If my perfume were a snack, it would be this.  You want to go to there, don't you?  So do I.  And so I want to go to The Fat Radish.  I heard about this place over the summer, and though I don't see a radish on the menu, I'm keen (as a radish is as much an idea as it is a root vegetable).  Here's what I'd like to taste: oysters (always oysters); grilled cheese and pickles (always pickles); celery root pot pie; the bacon cheeseburger with duck fat fries, and the scallops with beet and sweet potato hash; maybe the fat radish plate too (here, I expect to find an actual radish).  I want to leave The Tenement museum and stroll down Orchard street as the violet hour takes over and go...to there.  Would you?

Went: Dumbo General Store

I did it!  I finally went.  Brooklyn Heights being devoid of many weekday breakfast joints, I went downhill to the general store.  The iced latte was swell--and had some sort of maple-y syrup-y flavor about which I was too shy to inquire.  I haven't been so good with the blogging of late, and so I failed to take a photo of the amazing Egg in a Cloud, which is baked and fluffy egg whites surrounding a soft cooked yolk.  It rests on some ham, fontina, and toasted brioche, and overlooks a field of creamed spinach. CT had the old-fashioned breakfast, which came with some exceptional bacon.  I wish I'd had a cookie.  And I'm glad I went to there.

Went: John Dory

We went to here after finding The Breslin not yet open, and No.7 Sub shuttered.  5 pm on a weekday in a neighborhood devoid of many options, Jon Dory it was.  I complained about the smell upon entering--something a little sickly and desperately washed, like a sidewalk in front of a nightclub.  It was one of the first hot days of the summer, so maybe they just didn't have the seafood disposal down yet.  I was hot, and unhappy, and maybe I wasn't inclined to think favorably of them--but enough excuses; I didn't like it.  The waitress was unintelligible, and disinterested.  The food was diminutive, and vaguely unpleasant: we started off with a glass a Gruet for me, and a beer for the gentleman, and a half dozen oysters.  They were okay.  The roasted peanuts with garlic and rosemary were quite good, and spicy.  Chilled crab and avocado in a shot glass was mushy and ill-seasoned  The oyster pan roast, while relatively tasty, only bore three oyster bodies in about 12 ounces of cream, which was just mean-spirited.  The highlight of the meal were the parker house rolls, warm, and brioche like in their sweetness.  I wanted to go to here, I should not have gone to here, and I will not go back to here.

When I Went to Some Wants

Sausage stuffed pears at Elsewhere

I have come limping back to my cousin's web side, and must make amends for keeping quiet when I went to theres.
First, there was Vinegar Hill House.  I went to there.  The cheese board, the cast iron chicken ( succulent, good enough to get again), and a candle in my unmemorable dessert.  There was Sigmund Pretzel Shop--one of the very first postings in this blog.  I went to there.  Sunflower seed pretzel, cheese pretzel, warm cinnamon sugar pretzel, a girl behind the counter bored by my indecision.  There was Vandaag.  We went to there.  An assortment of pickled things, none of which were among the stranger or more interesting Vandaag purports to make. A burger, okay.  A seat too close to a window on a freezing Winter evening.  A surprisingly delicious ice cream sandwich.  There was Char No. 4.  I went to there.  They were out of the shrimp and grits, and I wasn't much in the mood for anything else.  Except some 3 oz pours of whiskey, and some fried balls of something kindly brought to us on the house.  Buttermilk Channel.  I went to there. Again.  It was New Year's Eve, and they let me take home a balloon.  And gave me a glass of pink champagne just for being me.  The Duck meatloaf  continues to be excellent.  There was Momofuku.  We went to there.  Pure bliss.  

Biscuits and pretty nails at Elsewhere

There have been others, theres I never wrote about to begin with, destinations never to receive a place in line with all the published wants--Five Leaves, Elsewhere (I may never go elsewhere in Times Square), two aborted attempts at Balaboosta (we WILL go to there), X2O (Yonkers, foodie destination), one aborted attempt at Prime Meats (two hour wait at 7 pm? ), Rubirosa, Strong Place, and some place whose name is lost to me.  And now, you.  Which serves me right for turning my back on the blog.  Now I've dipped my fingers onto the keyboard, it might not be so hard to jump back in.

Balaboosta

214 Mulberry St.

Fortunately, we already have plans to go to there. Of particular interest to me: pickles, hummus, smoked eggplant bruschetta, falafel-wrapped meatballs, grilled calamari, brick chicken.

Peels

325 Bowery at 2nd St.

I want to go to there -- mainly for breakfast. They have a whole section on their breakfast menu called "Build-a-Biscuit." Sam Sifton says that the biscuits -- "salty, airy hosts" for delectable toppings such as sausage and pepper-jack cheese, make you want to hunt ducks.

We Went to There: Fatty 'Cue

A nice Eastern European man picked us up in a grey Lexus, number 96. He took us to a weird, industrial block in Williamsburg near the water. We stopped at the building with a red rooster painted on the side. The air smelled of smoked meats, pickles, chilis.

Our waiter was especially chatty. He wanted to make sure that we knew that sharing was encouraged (we did,) and that we were planning on ordering some greens (we weren't necessarily, but then we did.) He also told us that Sam Sifton inhales his food and that the smoked crab laksa recipe was off the menu, being tweaked -- the night's only disappointment.

We ordered some cocktails. I had the 'Cue, with rum, smoked pineapple, tabasco, and Pernod. It was intensely spicy, citrusy, and strong. M tried one of the cocktail specials -- a rootbeer sazerac. It was syrupy and tasted of winter spices. I was tempted by the Hitachino bombers (too overpriced) and the Recession Special, which includes a shot of whiskey, a shot of pickle back, and a PBR tallboy.

We started with a bowl of cucumbers, pictured above. They were cut into chunks, and tossed with smoked chili, brown rice vinegar, and sesame seeds. They were like spicy, un-pickled pickles: acidic with vinegar but fully crunchy and refreshing inside. The only problem was that there were too many -- probably two, three whole cucumbers. With these we ordered a plate of the 'Cue Coriander Bacon -- smoked, thick-cut bacon served with delicate toast triangles and a little cup of creamy yellow curry custard. The bacon was perfectly fatty and rich -- best enjoyed, I thought, with another item we ordered off the snack menu: Bowl of Noodles. Sam Sifton described this dish as "the OxyContin of Ramen" -- the noodles sit in a bowl of resting meat juices, chilis, and scallions, which nicely coat the noodles upon tossing. Also, the bowl came with a soup spoon full of house-made Sriracha. This may have been one of the best dishes of the night.

Our large-plate item was the Brandt Farms Beef Brisket, pictured above. The plate came with two cuts of brisket -- one fatty, one lean -- four doughy bao buns for sandwich-making, pickled red onions and cilantro, a little palette of chili jam and aioli, and a cup of bone broth. My technique was this: smear the inside of the bao with the aioli (I wasn't ready to fuck with the chili jam), lay the fatty cuts into the folds, pile on the pickled onions and cilantro, press the bao closed, and dip into the bone broth; eat; repeat; pick at the leaner cuts, which then paled in comparison to their fattier predecessors.

Then we had our pie. We ordered the whole pie menu -- which consisted of only two kinds of pie -- but still. We got a slice of spiced pumpkin pie, and a slice of whipped peanut butter pie with a chocolate top layer and a pretzel-crumb crust. These were First Prize pies -- they were second rate pies, but they were made by a company called First Prize Pies. The spiced pumpkin needed to be spicier and moister, and the whipped peanut butter pie desperately needed more salt. The meal ended on a high note, however, as we received a couple of moistened hand wipes with the check. Thanks Fatty 'Cue! Stay tuned for more Williamsburg Theres in the coming months..

Went: Westward hum!

I tried to eat everything before my departure, and here's the run down:

Cioppino

Head Cheese!

Colt and Gray:  I went to here with my dear friend, JB, to celebrate his arrival in Denver.  Colt and Gray was one of the restaurants written about in the NYT shortly before I headed west, and is a pretty exquisite place.  There was a fireplace, there were cozy gray (ahem) chairs in the small dining room, the servers were super friendly, and my company was superb.  I've always loved gray, chose to wear it more often than not, and find its presence to be reflective of grace, calm, and refinement.  That's pretty much what Colt and Gray felt like--oh, and the food was really good too.  We took a chance and ordered the head cheese.  Yes, that happened.  Head cheese is a meat jelly, and yes, sounds kind of gross, but I swear it's not!  The head of this animal, or animals, was delicious, and I had no compunctions past ordering it that interfered with my enjoyment of it.  JB had the butternut squash gnocchi, which he allowed to try--firm, soft, savory, sweet, perfect.  I had the cioppino, and it was sublime.  I've never met a shellfish I didn't like, but the addition here of the tomato fennel broth put this over the top.  I'm crazy for fennel--and recently had some fennel ice cream here in Brooklyn, but that's for another post.  We shared a bottle of wine, and reveled in the potted cheesecake--the memory of which still makes my mouth water.

Potted Cheesecake

Roast Duck Salad

The Kitchen:  My first dining experience in Boulder was exceptional.  There's something about lunch on a day that's everybody else's workday that can't be beat in my world.  It can feel like the most relaxed, decadent, happy experience a girl could hope for.  And The Kitchen might just be one of the most perfect fulfillments of this idea.  I went with a girlfriend, RB, and together in the warm sunlight of a cool day, we shared the tomato soup, the lamb burger, and the beet and hazelnut salad, and the duck salad with poached eggs.  I also had the Eton Mess--an unformed Fool, if you will, or Trifle with meringue instead of lady fingers.  It was a perfect meal that I will never forget.

Tomato soup and Beet salad

Cookies!

D Bar Desserts:  I became very wistful at D Bar, seeing all the groups of women sharing food and sweets.  I texted a couple of my girls while I was there to tell them I wished we were together--it's the sort of place you go to with your sister, with your girlfriends, with your mother in law, with little girls.  And then you go to the ballet.  Oh well, I went alone, and I went for cookies.  You can't offer a cookie plate and not expect me on your doorstep.  Four cookies, all fresh from the oven, came with a glass of iced milk.  It was gooey, and decadent, and happy.  D Bar is a happy place--where grilled cheese lives peacefully beside chocolate cake and a mini malted, and where desserts are, slyly, "enjoyed in broad daylight."

French Toast with Maple Bacon Syrup at Snooze

Greasy Spoon

Reader, I ate so many more meals--I went to Jax Fish House in Boulder, Tee and Cakes, and to H Burger.  To Oceanaire, back to Rioja, to The Market, Noodle and Co., Ted's  Montana Grill, Sexy Pizza, P17, Snooze, Cru, Sam's No. 3, and many more.   My appetite is limitless, but now it must go to Brooklyn, back to its cousin appetite, to go to there again.

John Dory Oyster Bar

The Ace Hotel - 1196 Broadway at 29th Street

April Bloomfield and Ken Friedman (of the Spotted Pig) opened the John Dory two years ago on 10th Avenue but they've since closed that location and are bringing it to the Ace Hotel (also home to Stumptown, No 7 Sub, and Opening Ceremony.) The space sounds really pretty and the soups, stews, and bar snacks sound delicious.

I Went to There: Denver

Let's be clear: I wanted to go to there first and foremost for cousin time; second and second most to bear witness to two wild nights of bloodsucking at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts; and third and thirdmost, to feed. Not on blood, but on the fruits of Denver. And feed I did -- feed we did.

Upon first arriving in Denver I was whisked away to the House of Commons, a tea room in the northwest corner of the city. Tea time, among cousins, is a tradition that has consisted of a lot of talk and little action. But the weather and the company car lent themselves to action on this sunny day, so we enjoyed afternoon tea at a sidewalk table. The service consisted of 4 little tea sandwiches: one roast beef with mayonnaise, one curried chicken, one cheddar and fruit preserves, and one traditional cream cheese and cucumber. On the second tier of the little tea tower there stood two scones, to be eaten with fruit jam, lemon curd, and clotted cream (pictured above.) On the top tier, some little petits-fours: carrot cake, chocolate cake, and a sweet little cookie. In addition, we shared a comforting slice of quiche and a square of peanut butter fudge with a hardened chocolate top layer that was decidedly OOC -- that's "out of control," for my elderly readers.

After Thursday night's show we parked at a corner table at Euclid Hall on 14th Street and we said to the man, "Please to bring us everything fried, please, and everything griddled." Not really, but we may as well have: our meal consisted of an outstandingly crunchy turkey corn dog; a platter of poutine with hen of the woods mushrooms, porcini gravy, and Wisconsin cheddar; a grilled cheese sandwich with Camembert and peach preserves; a cup of mushroom soup; a little pan of roasted vegetables; and a platter of "pretzel fried pies," which were basically stuffed churros. Also, I had the Lagunitas Censored to drink. One cousin delighted in the endless pile of hand-cut Kennebec french fries, and one cousin delighted in parsnips roasted in a honey-rosemary glaze.

And then we fasted. We fasted all night. And then we broke our fast at around 9 the next morning at Sam's no. 3, whose breakfast fare is not unlike that of a typical New Jersey diner, albeit one with a slightly Mexican theme. Eggs, pancakes, french toast: you can picture it in your mind's eye. What I really want to share is a beauty shot from the Squeaky Bean in the Highlands neighborhood of Denver, where we shared this gorgeous roast cauliflower salad with smoked trout, dates, and a parsley coulis. Also on the table: a delectable (if heftily packed) lamb reuben and a pig-shaped pig platter that came with 3 different types of salumi and a tray of toasted sourdough. For dessert, our be-sunglassed waiter, Luciano, recommended the carrot cake and shake: an adorable cube of creamy carrot cake topped with candy-glazed carrot ribbons and accompanied with a beaker (yes -- a beaker!) of vanilla milkshake. It reminded one cousin of horchata and the other cousin of kheer, the Indian rice pudding. In any event it was a delight.

I imagine that some other couple of cousins in this crazy, mixed-up world might have stopped there. "That's enough," some cousin might have said, patting her belly or, worse, skipping dessert altogether. Not these cousins. We stopped by the Denver Biscuit Company and picked up this stunner of a biscuit to-go, which would later turn into an innovative and attractive (if I may say so) late night salami and egg sandwich. With the biscuit in tow we continued on our way in pursuit of Dessert 2.0: Little Man Ice Cream, also in the Highlands neighborhood, also adorable, also cousin heaven.

Little Man donates some portion of rice, proportional to scoops sold, to villages in Ethiopia and Myanmar -- but guess what -- that's not what I'm here to talk about. I'm here to talk about how outstanding the fig gelato was. We ordered it in sundae form with hot fudge and Whopper pieces (who knew both cousins loved Whoppers!? No one likes Whoppers!) and took a little kids cup of honey gelato to-go as well. All to-go items, biscuit included, were ultimately consumed by midnight -- and enthusiastically so -- but also gracefully so.

For 10 long hours we rested and then we set out for more. Our late breakfast/early brunch at Rioja, on Larimer Street, consisted of a yogurt and berry parfait, a little lace cookie and chevre amuse bouche, eggs and pork belly (pictured above,) and the Rioja Benedict, 2 perfectly poached eggs with tomato, spinach, and bacon atop goat cheese biscuit halves.

But biscuits come and biscuits go, and the altitude had taken its toll on this biscuit. Before boarding my flight I stopped at Denver fast-food restaurant Itza Wrap Itza Bowl in the United Airlines terminal at the Denver airport and treated myself to a brown rice bowl with vegetables and tofu -- they dressed it with Thai peanut sauce, cilantro, peanut halves and Sriracha. Have you ever seen Sriracha at a fast-food establishment? Me neither. This actually wasn't so bad for airport food.

That concludes this cousin's Denver eating adventure. All in all Denver has proved to be an excellent source of bar foods, fried foods, desserts, baked goods, griddled foods, breakfast foods, and meats. One can eat well there, but it's certainly no place for any cousin to stay too long -- may I recommend Itza Wrap Itza Bowl for your impending trip home, cousin -- I'll see you in November.

I Went to There: Maialino

So on Friday night I went to Maialino, Danny Meyer's new -- well, 10-month-old -- Roman trattoria on the ground floor of the Gramercy Park Hotel. I've wanted to go to there for many, many months, since before it even opened when I was subsiding on 99-cent sacks of potatoes in rural Ireland and dreaming of suckling pig. Thanks to the really nice people I worked for over the summer, I got a prime reservation and a really amazing meal on the house -- there, that's my disclaimer for the Federal Trade Commission.

Maialino has a noisy (in a good way) front area with a long, walnut bar and an open cucina counter -- this area looks out onto Gramercy Park to the south and lower Lexington Avenue to the east. There is also a quieter dining area in back where tables are spaced further apart, and we were seated sort of on the border between the two -- a couple of tables away from Woody Allen and Soon-Yi -- you can imagine how many other diners around us were tweeting on the topic throughout the meal.

We decided to order something from every section on the traditional Roman menu. Our salumi was a Soppressata Piccante from Long Island City, which came in beautiful, nutty slices just in time to enjoy with the remnants of the bread basket. Our antipasti was Carciofini Fritti, perfectly warm and crispy fried artichoke hearts accompanied by an anchovy bread sauce. Everything seemed to come out precisely when it was ready and just minutes after our having finished the preceding plate, such that everything was texturally perfect and appropriately paced. Before our larger courses came out, our server brought us a plate with two little slices of crostini topped with ricotta, grainy sunflower honey, and juicy, soft, pink figs.

Our main courses were the highlights, even though everything I've already described could have made up a remarkable meal in itself. From the primi menu, we ordered the Malfatti Al Maialino, asymmetrical folds of eggy, homemade pasta with suckling pig ragu and fresh arugula. Our secondi was Pollo Alla Diavola, a half chicken pounded and roasted to a light crispy outer texture with black pepper and pickled chili. With the crackly, spicy skin and the garlicky bitterness of the accompanying broccoli rabe (ordered separately,) this dish might have been the most impressive. We polished off a quarter chicken each.

We finished off our bottle of Nero D'Avola from Firriato and ended the meal with an Affogato. I left feeling not as Sam Sifton suggested I might -- "panting a little, ready for sleep" -- but perfectly content with how the meal had lived up to my expectations.

Denver Destinations

I want to go to:

Rioja
1431 Larimer St.
Mediterranean, and website currently has a picture of a cocktail with jalapenos floating in it. Sign me up. Also, an excellent brunch menu featuring buttermilk waffles, crab crepes, and goat cheese biscuits. This also appears to be a minute away from your apartment! Sigh, I bet you've been to there.
www.riojadenver.com

Root Down
1600 W. 33rd Ave.
The Times mentioned this one in their recent article on local food in Denver. They have an enticing happy hour menu with hoisin duck sliders and sweet potato falafel. The space used to be a gas station and maintains a lot of 50's design elements. Ugh, you've probably been there, too.
www.rootdowndenver.com

Colt & Gray
1553 Platte St., #120
Another recommendation in that Times article. Oysters and coppa, marrow and beet burgers. The most baffling/intriguing thing on their menu would probably be the Croque Madame with Tomato Soup Apple Cider Fried Chicken Sandwich with Fennel Kraut. What?
www.coltandgray.com


There you go, cuz. What do you think?
P.s. -- Does anywhere in Denver serve lunch?

Want: Vandaag

As a new, and tentative member of the picklophile club (spell check just asked me to change that word to pedophile--I will not go to there), I am interested in Vandaag, the new, "vaguely Dutch" restaurant serving up an assortment of pickled items, from oysters (oysters?!), sausages (sausages?!), cantaloupe (cantaloupe?!), cherries (cherries?!), and pickles (pick--oh, okay). I think I'm as wary of Dutch food as I am of pickled food, and so the "vaguely" part may make this just the place for me.  I (kind of) want to go to there.

Maialino

Gramercy Park Hotel
2 Lexington Ave.
New York, NY

Maialino is the newest original Danny Meyer concept and, lord, I have wanted to go to there, to really GO to there, since it opened while I was in Ireland in November of 2009. And this summer, I did go to there -- a few times, actually. But never to eat! I got to interview the pastry chef, Jen Shelbo, and the wine director, Liz Nicholson, and I worked on their bios for the restaurant's website. And that was basically the highlight of my summer, and it didn't even involve food.

Well, it's about time I supped on the Maialino, which means "little pig" in Italian. I have a reservation for next Friday, and believe me -- once I've gone to there, you are going to hear ALL about it. Here's what I foresee eating: carciofini, salumi misti, bucatini all'amatriciana, malfatti al maialino, pollo alla diavola.. and, as always, cheese and alcohol! My friends cheese and alcohol! You'll be hearing from me.

Went: Westward ho!

I'm picking up pace now as I settle in to life in Denver.  Here's where I've been to since the last post:

Vesta Dipping Grill was not on my list of go to theres, but promised a better repast than what I might find at Coors Field, where I was heading with a few cast-mates for a Rockies game (yeah, the Bratwurst would probably have been good, but I was trying to be good, and therefore needed something sans bun).  I was about to order the Colorado lamb loin with rose water yogurt sauce; ever since my mom made me her medieval rose pudding, I've been a fan of rose water as an ingredient.  I hear a lot of people find it too perfume-y, but perhaps they just haven't met my mother.  I ended up deciding that I was only ordering it for the sake of the sauce and what I really wanted was the venison sausage and the seared scallops with chickpeas and pancetta.  I liked both, the scallops in particular, and left with the general feeling that the other dishes, and the other sauces at Vesta are most likely pretty good on the whole; having so many other places to go to, however, I doubt I'll make my way back.  A few days after dining here, I read that it consistently wins reader's choice awards in a local magazine for a first date locale.

On my day off, I ventured out of downtown to find Marzcyk's Fine Foods, a specialty food shop with a focus, I would guess, on meat, from the looks of their logo.  It's a small shop, with really excellent selections; all the protein looked (and later tasted) incredible, and they had a nice assortment of cheeses, produce, and weirdo canned and jarred items.  Of great appeal were the "M" stickers pasted on all in-house baked good containers, and the presence of Robinson Dairy cottage cheese in the dairy aisle.  I like to have my name represented on my consumables.

The spread at Euclid Hall

At the Cherry Cricket, I had a crazy good hamburger topped with cheddar, bacon, egg, and avacado.  An actor from another DTC production had brought us to this place, where there is, apparently, always a line to get in to taste these delectable concoctions.  I asked our server if anyone ever actually ordered the peanut butter they offer as a topping for their burgers, after deciding I just couldn't do it myself--and yes, they do, mostly children.  Denver youth: foodies.  Who knew?

I spotted Euclid Hall on one of my first tours about town and was mostly interested in their pickle sampler, having become a recent picklophile.  And who, really, could resist a pickle offered up on a menu as "Hot, Spicy, and Very Sincere?"  I had "The Works," which included four sausages--bratwurst, boudin blanc, boudin noir, and weisswurst--and the aforementioned pickle sampler, whose dill and garlic pickle rivaled even McClure's (heresy).  The others were fine as pickles go.  I did not imbibe on this particular occasion--and whether that was due to the fact that I was about to see a play and didn't want to test my tiredness, or that the beer menu is broken up into mathematical divisions (so to speak) depending on the complexity of the brew, I do not know.  I want a complex beer and an easy equation--how can I reconcile that at Euclid Hall?  The sourdough waffle ice cream sandwich with salted butterscotch ice cream and praline was fine, as in fiiiiiine, and I look forward to trying the red velvet cupcake with 7 minute frosting before I leave town, and before my corset gets too tight . . . .

Ben Nye Stage Blood tastes even better above sea level.

Want to go to Denver!

I've been a fairly absentee go-er to there-er, and am going to fill the gap with a running list of all the places I go to while I'm out West.  Like jogging in blog-place until I get back to going to there in the appropriate, New York fashion.  I'll be updating every week, but it all starts at the grocery store:

King Sooper's is the local, non-specialty food shop here in downtown Denver.  I've had a lot of luck in recent months with these types of establishments--Stauffer's in Lancaster, PA, Publix and Piggly Wiggly in Montgomery, AL, Shaw's on Cape Cod--but my luck has run out.  Sooper's was a bust.  I might as well have been in a Price Chopper on Western Boulevard in Albany.  Oh, the Boulder Chevre was a pretty good find, and they get a little credit for the weirdo name---it's not super, and it ain't soup.

I spent a delightful half an hour wandering around the dainty Cook's Fresh Market on the 16th Street Mall--it's a specialty foods store, and has some tasty prepared foods.  I sampled the roasted tomato with asiago cheese, and the crust-less quiche, both of which were light, fresh, and delicious.  What I liked most of all, however, I found in the cheese section, where little bits of leftover cheeses are available on the cheap.

Wynkoop Brewery has been on my list ever since I started my Denver research.  I like breweries in general, and Denver's a place where you're supposed to try the beer.  So I tried it--eh.  They let me down.  The food looked uninteresting--I didn't order any--and my self-composed flight of four of their brews was undistinguished.

I Went to There: Farmacy

I sat at the counter, like any Brooklyn girl might have done years ago, and had my egg cream ordered for me.  I took it with a pretzel stick--salty and sweet, the way all good things should be.  It's a little trip back in time at Farmacy, where the counter stools swivel, penny candy is sold by the register, chalk is available for kids to use on the sidewalk outside,  and the servers wear those little paper hats that make me cringe at the thought of wearing one myself.  Farmacy is a sweet little spot, and I'd like to try their other goodies--the egg cream, both vanilla and chocolate, were refreshing, but the blueberry pie was below my standard--I will return for a malted, maybe a sundae, but maybe also just to time travel and share that second straw.  

I Went to There: Cascabel

When the cousin's away the mice will play -- and thus I finally made it to Cascabel taqueria the other night, on 80th and 2nd avenue. Cascabel is a brightly colored storefront with images of La Lucha wrestlers and other kitschy decorations. The room is set up as if for counter service, though they were doing table service for dinner that night. It was totally packed, and people were lined up for takeout as well as for tables.

The food: spicy guacamole with hot, house-made tortilla discs; shrimp tacos with black beans, chili oil, and fresh oregano (perhaps a little too much fresh oregano); slow-roasted Berkshire pork butt tacos (NO MORE NICE JEWISH GIRL!) with pickled onions and crispy chili de arbol; pickled vegetables in brine, a Lagunitas IPA, a glass of house sangria, a blueberry shaved ice, and a little bag of mini-churros!

The standouts were probably the tacos -- both were excellently seasoned and un-messily cradled by delicious, sturdy house-made corn tortillas. The pork could maybe have been moister, but was aided by a delicious smokey hot sauce that we had on the table. The shaved ice was nice but maybe a little too solid to eat with a spoon -- I suspect it was blended rather than shaved.

I would go back to Cascabel for the tortilla soup, the vegetal tacos (fingerling potatoes and oyster mushrooms) and a spicy mango margarita.

Fatty 'Cue

91 S. 6th St., Brooklyn
www.fattycue.com

I'm back on the meat train (tentatively) and I'm hungry for some Dragon Pullman toast with Master Fat. And Manilla clams, and Heritage pork ribs, and smoked crab laksa. Fatty, sustainable meats and Southeast-Asian seasoning are getting married and I want to go to the wedding -- I just need to know what train to take.

I Went to there: Taim

Did you see that episode of Bethenny Getting Married when she's interviewing potential assistants and one shlubby guy who has no business hanging out with Bethenny Frankel tells her she should go to Taim, that it's better than Mamoun's? I DID, 3+ times. That's what reminded me to visit Taim, a tiny falafel storefront in the West Village. It was one of the first Want entries I made on this blog. It had been hard to find a time to go here for a few reasons:
1. The weather had to be good, because there's basically no seating
2. I work right next to Maoz, which is amazing, so I always go there
3. I get lost everytime I go to the West Village

But I found myself in the neighborhood, not so lost, on a dry if exceptionally hot day last week around dinner time, so I went to Taim. I tried the harissa-spiced falafel sandwich, which comes with hummus, Israeli salad, and tahini -- and if you ask, pickles and hot sauce at no extra charge.

This Frankel-assistant-hopeful guy was right -- Taim is so good. You can choose between three different kinds of falafel balls: green (typical parsley, mint, cilantro blend); harissa; and red (roasted red pepper.) They're all fried to order, and they're perfectly crispy and browned on the outside and moist and flavorful within -- not crumbly or undercooked like some falafel. This was almost creamy. It's not necessarily better than Maoz though, and given that it's a little pricier and slightly out of the way, I'm probably not going to convert. But Bethenny should, if she's still going to Mamoun's!