a dinner at St. Anselm

We transferred to the L train this past weekend- to meet friends for dinner in (sigh) Williamsburg. I'll admit that I wrinkled my judge-y nose as I took in three early twenty-somethings passing a Coors Light exchanging what they hoped to be ironic comments, stumbling in unison with the jerks of the train.

We hopped off at Bedford and set-up our iPhone GPS command center, leading us to Custom American Wine Bar until our agreed upon 6:30pm meeting time. Notable, as the list is exclusive to The States and has excellent Washington and Oregon wineries featured (+ free pop corn!).

Our company put our name on the list at St. Anselm, which does not take reservations, but does conveniently offer an iPhone app to track your progress in obtaining a table. Once you're on on the waiting list, most patrons set-up camp in the adjacent bar, which is unsurprisingly (genius!) owned by the same gentleman behind St. Anselm. The smell is quite peculiar, a sort of licorice and musk. It was very nearly offensive, but after we marinated in it for 2.5 hours and found ourselves being summoned to our table at the restaurant- ducks began to form in a row. As you step into St. Anselm, the thick warm scent of steak takes you over. It's literally the perfect pairing. I can't explain it any other way and I was certain the licorice-musk bar is absolutely integral to the process.

The interior is rough and a bit rustic- Americana- with weathered wood, vintage saws and  a promise of hormone and antibiotic-free meat.  We were greeted by a husky-country looking man,  of whom confirmed he was in fact from the Midwest: Kansas.

We immediately opened with bottles of red, wine braised octopus and  grilled artichoke hearts with aioli. Both tender, flavorful and at simply prepared.

For our second course, we shared a few plates of greens- ice berg and blue salad with hot bacon dressing and the grilled Halmoumi cheese with pea greens and long beans. Rich, sultry and satisfying- these could be a meal in themselves.

Our mains came in a hurry: butcher steak with garlic butter, lamb saddle with mint gremolata, salmon steak with garlic butter and the bourbon brined center cut pork chop. To accompany, we selected a few orders of the pan fried mashed potatoes with truffled oil, spinach gratin and scallions. We approached the spread family-style to fully experience the feast. The various proteins tasted as though the animals are been massaged, loved and well fed. There is really is no substitute for this quality.

Against all odds, we agreed to dessert. We selected pie, chocolate mousse with rich homemade whipped cream and port. It's now Wednesday and I am still harping on St. Anselm...thinking...hoping... can we can go back this Saturday? The 2.5 hour wait is well worth it. Go with good company that you can chuckle through the hours with.

Pieces of my Weekend

I had an absolutely amazing weekend with six great friends in Louisiana! We toured the swamps, held an aligator (ate one too!), enjoyed messy and delicious meals of peeled shrimp, crawfish, turtle (ok, this was a little yucky), jamalaya, andouille gumbo and hit up the bar scene. We were pleasantly surprised that next week's Mardi Gras had already begun with small parades and copious beads being tossed from balconies! More images from my Canon SLR to be shared later :)

McSorleys

We joined the ghosts of Civil War soldiers at McSorley's last night. With saw dust floors and tag of being the New York's oldest bar (which didn't allow women until mandated by a court order in 1970!), we crowded our group of ten or so around a table. A man approached us and asked, "light or dark?"  He made two trips for the first round, which was twice as many beers as people.

The house brews taste identical and come in varied portions- some half full, others a little more.  After several generous rounds of hap-hazardly placed beers- we hollered for our tab. The server paused in a precarious way then complied, "Hundred?"

We didn't sample the menu, but I am a little curious. According to New York magazine, the raw onion and sharp cheddar is the thing to order. Rumor has it the men's urinals are gorgeous porcelin.

The Bailey

If you're a suit on Wall Street, you're at home in The Bailey. The handsome after-work venue has a massive white bull ready to charge, excessively large windows and a sixty-seven foot walnut bar. While I typically sip bubbly and nibble on whatever tidbits are ordered in the form of group-size platters, I recently explored the menu a bit outside of work outings.

In company, three small plates seemed to suit our craving. We selected the savory French Onion soup (piping hot w/ Gruyere), the Ahi Tuna Tar Tar (in ginger-wasabi dressing with a hijiki seaweed salad) and the bratwurst with sauerkraut, micro-shaved horseradish and spicy mustard. The eclectic mix satisfied wonderfully- we may have even left a few bites. While in, I'd recommend taking a gander at the decent beer list and sampling the Champagne Sangria from the custom cocktail's menu.

a dinner at Blue Ribbon Sushi- SoHo

While I've been to Blue Ribbon in Park Slope, I hadn't had a chance to dine at Blue Ribbon Sushi in SoHo-- until last week. After a rowdy few hours of bank-crowd cocktails at The Bailey, five of us split from the large group to pile into two cabs. Our out-of -town colleagues (one each from Belgium, the UK and Germany) insisted this was the first choice for our sushi craving this evening.

The dimly lit venue with grey and sunken wooden benches dominating the atmosphere- appeared nearly empty, and yet our lack of reservation still caused a bit of commotion. Our warm, pink cheeks insisted that we were happy to squeeze into a booth.

We allowed the out-of-town gents take the reigns on the menu, as they had their set of favorites. Among those, the Ise Ebi Sashimi- a whole raw lobster with miso butter, the very special platter and platters of chef-recommended rolls and appetizers. To sip, we had a few bottles of sake from the tremendously extensive list, beer and wine at the server's discretion.

The venue is a winner of the Best of New York Awards, and rumored to have the best raw fish in town. Albeit undeniably spectacular, I'm not sure I'd grant it that honor (eh hem...Masa).

a dinner at Mexican Radio

Emerging from the depths of the J train at Bowery, we slushed our way towards Mexican Radio- at the cusp of Nolita. The dimly lit venue is masked behind thick curtains and packed worse than most commuter trains. After finessing our name on the books, an elbow-checking was needed to reach the bar. We took advantage of the bar special: grande house margarita $5 (regularly $12) with Fourquare check-in.

Before we could take more than a much needed few sips, the hostess collected us to lead the way to our table down the stairs. Hot sauce dominated the decor, with a glass case proudly displaying copious varieties.


We decided to share three dishes: Mac N' Cheese, Radio Nachos and the Steak on Fries. The Mac comes 'Mexican-style,' spiked with corn, jalapenos and pablanos. The menu boasted it's 15 minutes of fame in In-Touch magazine. The nachos come arranged in a circle- each chip individually dressed with black beans, smokey guiajillo pepper sauce, homemade crema and melty cheese. Voted Best in NYC, they were pretty tasty and satisfying with the tart margaritas (we were absolutely on round 2 at this fork in the road!).

And our glorious finale: the steak on fries is a mess. A mess of comforting sins. Hunks of steak marinateed tomato-garlic chili sauce over crispy thin fries- topped with a slop of melted cheese, salsa, guacamole and crema.

a dinner at Quality Meats

Greeted by a white plastic cow's head, the sultry deep caverns of Quality Meats surprised me. The venue is part of the Smith and Wollensky empire, a detail which comes as a surprise when you take in the massive cuts of meat. The decor of the three-story restaurant is from the hands of downtown design group AvrkoKO- and quite stunning with polished walnut planks, industrial steel meat hooks and a bar lined with bourbon jars of mash.

Our group settled to a table in in the corner of the top floor-- tucking into a crowd dominated by tragically good looking young professionals. A cast iron bowl of piping hot herbed bread and sweet cream butter, as well a wooden tray of figs brulee-style were placed before us. Our statuesque server approached with a contained enthusiasm, "Did I notice a wobble in your table? I have a trick." He pulled a wedge out of his pocket and crawled under our legs, "There!" (Come now, that's an aggressive icebreaker. We all determined it was his signature move. There was no wobble).

We ordered two bottles- Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc and Freemark Abbey Merlot from Napa. Stunning and excellent in pairs with our trail of starters: U7 shrimp cocktail (knife and fork needed, three sauces: wasabi, ginger and cocktail) and the QM colossal lump crab cake.

As well, we sampled the bone marrow, which came with buttery toast and a savory fruit compote with bacon.

Segue, to the mains. The fish special: Wild Striped Sea Bass with fork crushed Yukons and sauce veirge. Flecked with capers, the dish offered an aesthetic appeal.

The rest of us didn't stray: Porterhouse for three. Yes. Three. A heaping dish of thick and bloody steak that I'm arguing we somehow finished. If steak were velvet, this would be it.

To compliment this gorgeous shared plate, we ordered three sides: King Oyster mushrooms, Yorkshire creamed spinach (baked in a pastry) and minty edamame with sea salt. The mushrooms could have been meat- thick, massive and somewhere between tender and al dente.

My spread (yes, I couldn't resist seconds. Maybe thirds. Shhh...it's Winter. I need a little meat added to my bones:)

images: from my iPhone

Libation

In preparing for my post on Libation, I couldn't decide whether to pull the inferior quality photos from the facebook album of the event, or to dip into other online sources...then I found this video on Libation's official web page. Videos are cooler, right? What it doesn't show is the third-floor walk-up to the private room, the unisex bathroom with arguably seedy male attendant (I'd like my dollar tip back, I can dry my own hands) or the trays of food: artisan cheese, hummus with pita, skewers with steak, prawns, chicken and marinated vegetables. The food was decent given my low expectations. Duly noted that the goat cheese actively excited one friend, "I want to put this in my purse!"

Coupled with a DJ and bottle service options, this micro experience of a club is a good option for a birthday or bachelor party, as well I've heard that corporate holiday parties are also hosted in the private rooms. Admittedly, we did break out in dance, or at least I did with a number of others. And(!) my college staple, Andre, is served. Nothing wrong with stirring up a little collegiate enthusiasm. This was a Triple Birthday Mega-Jam, after all.

Blue Note

My driver shoved through the mess of cabs outside Blue Note-- many empty--waiting-- for live jazz buffs to shuffle out of the West Village venue. I entered to be immediately interrogated by a bouncer, in what appeared to be his grandfather's hand-me down-suit, "You meeting someone or you have a reservation?" I ensured him my company was at the bar, to which he escorted me to the tiny space that had be procured for us in the standing room.

I sipped Maker's on the rocks (always bourbon with jazz) and took in the crammed tables, 80's style geometric mirrors to the back and doorman shhhhing patrons who dared above a modest whisper. I suggest venturing upstairs to use the loo, where cases of kitschy souvenirs will stir up nostalgia of roller skating rinks from childhood.


The club is noted for outrageous cover and policies (you pay a steep admission per set), New York Magazine writer Peter Landau explains:

The sole reason to endure this pseudo high-class torture is the Blue Note's exclusive booking practices: Certain artists, like John Coltrane's powerhouse drummer, the late Elvin Jones, wouldn't play anywhere else within city limits. At least they pay the industry's workhorses well.

I would suggest having an evening at Blue Note, then moving on to other venues such as Terra Blues where delicious Delta style blues is cover free- given that you're securing your table by ordering drinks



Images: NYMAG

Trivia Night at Dempsey's

The prospect of grabbing a cab on Water Street was looking a little grim last night- we got a little savage and- justified that if you're not on the ball- you don't deserve that cab. There's a time to be polite, and a time to get to Trivia Night at Dempsey's.

We arrived to the venue burgeoning with 20-somethings in quintessentially Lower East Side attire. The scent of warm pub fare matched the already pinking cheeks of the patrons. Our large group squeezed into a booth towards the back.

Attentive and jovial cocktail servers kept our table filled with drinks, nachos, wings and large plates of fries (with four dipping sauces!) throughout the five rounds of extremely detailed trivia. The prizes included a documentary on sperm and another DVD described as mildly pornographic. I'll show up next week: hands down.

Bin No. 220

Slipping down the cobblestone path of the South Street Seaport, we found ourselves taking a few seats along the bar at Bin No. 220. Warm red lights and bottles line the walls, low chattering patrons scattered in nooks. The menu is simple and lovely: cured meats, olive and truffle oil flights with bread- The bar keep gingerly apologized for asking me a question while I was Shazaming a song.

The menus come in paper bags, a humbling detail, n'est-ce pas? I sipped on the Blanc de Sers 2005. The glass was crisp with sweet hints of peach and herb. Small cards are provided to mark the wine you drink, including spaces for the vintage and notes. This detail communicates: come in, enjoy and take the experience with you.

The Back Room

The hidden entrance of tattered brick enclosure charmed me as I pushed through the cold and into the velvet paisley walls and copper ceilings. Low set couches, a light buzz of voices and coat check girl engorged in a heavy novel set the pace of The Back Room.


Cocktails are served in tea cups- a throw back to Prohibition Era. Bottle service is offered...and it secures your seats. If you're into the Speakeasy scene, you may also enjoy The East Side Bar Company and Little Branch.

Images <via>

a dinner at Nobu 57

Long overdo, I stepped into Robert DeNiro's 'star-studed' Nobu 57, for dinner last night. I had the pleasure of meeting with a former colleague for a drink at the bar first- where the bar keep grabbed my arm, "Is that a Casio calculator watch?! Hey check it out," he waved to a few people behind the bar. We sipped until our 8:00pm reservation and headed upstairs. The team of hostesses worked seamlessly together in the 13,000 sq ft, 2 story restaurant. For a large space, the decor felt intimate and appropriately dark.

We sipped wine and perused the menu- ordering edamame and the Rock Shrimp Tempura with Ponzu to start. Whereas, the edamame is standard with course sea salt, the Rock Shrimp were a step above: light, fresh and tender.

We transitioned into a second course: Black Cod with Miso and Mesculin greens with a ginger-fused dressing. The Black Cod is among the best I've sampled. Large buttery flakes of fish fell on to our plates and we negotiated with our cutlery.

For our third course, we shared a large platter with a soft shell crab roll, spicy tuna, salmon and Eel. I tend to lean towards fusion dishes, but was quite happy to sample the fish in comparison to other venues' quality. Although the soft shell crab was excellent (and in season), the salmon and eel won my affection.

Image: USA Today.

The House

There seems to be no shortage of lovely little bars in Gramercy. The House is no exception. Tucked under branches thick with leaves, a golden glow pushes through the windows onto the side walk. We stepped into the restored carriage house (circa 1854) for a late night cocktail. The server graciously offered us one of the best tables and set down thin bread sticks for nibbling.

The wine list is ridiculously extensive: suggesting that the food might be something to write home about. I decided to sip on one of their signature cocktails: Blood Orange Martini. A relatively smooth drink with muddled oranges, extraordinary fragrance and color. I did feel that the Campari wasn't the best liquor to mix with the vodka, it added a slightly off taste, but by no means ruined the drink.

Image: Apartment Therapy.

119 Bar: It feels like I've been here before.

Friday presented what seemed to be a marathon of tasks to complete. I took them on: one by one. Finishing just after five p.m. I met a friend for happy hour at 119 Bar (his choice).


Step inside. I've been here before: barely lit. Ripped couches. Folks dressed in grunge. It's a combination of every dive bar I ever frequented in college.

Decent vibe.
Juke box.
When in Union Square, I'd say give it a shout. Beers are just $4-5.

photo: nymag.

woo lae oak: i love you.

Do you ever have a meal that wraps you deep in ecstasy? For me: it's a combination of aesthetics, variety and involvement. Yesterday evening, I met up with Alvarez at Woo Lae Oak in SoHo.


The nouveau Korean BBQ spot was filled with warm smells, sexy legs and glances. We took off our shoes and settled in our table upstairs: wrapping our legs on cushions on the floor. The first thing I noticed (after spending some calculating the best way to position my self without giving the dining room a peep show, in my short dress) was that there were not only families with small children seated in nearby tables, but solo diners as well. Alvarez and I briefly discussed this before selecting cocktails: Lychee Martini and Woo Lae Oak's spin on a Julep.



To start, we selected (on enthusiastic recommendation of our server):

Pae Joo Gae- Minced Sea Scallops and Korean Pine Mushrooms baked in a Silky Shrimp Mousse. This was a bit of a production. The mousse came in shells, and on flames. The server distributed them on our plates, then took the flames away...we didn't get to play with fire, yet-

Dae Ji Jim- Slowly roasted Baby Pork Ribs basted in a tangy Soy and Chili Glaze on Crostini. The ribs proved themselves with moisture and accented slip off the bone and you played with them.

Go Chu Ti Kim- Korean Green Pepper stuffed with Tilapia Filet and Beet in a light Sesame Tempura Butter. A hearty appetizer with a pronounced kick. The spice wasn't one to linger- just catch your attention. The beets were a nice touch, and a bit of a surprise in flavor.




We switched to Ketel vodka with the transition to entrees. We decided on BBQ- when in Rome, n'est-ce pas?

We shared:

An Shim- Filet Mignon. A decent sized portion of thinly sliced beef with sliced onions.

Kal Bi: Boneless Beef Short Ribs. Decent-sized chunks of meat with a few mushrooms.

We flopped the meat onto the grill between us, attempting to prepare the meat through Ketel induced buzzes. Although we charred a few pieces, the involvment in the meal proved a lovely pleasure.

The server also brought us a colorful variety of kimchee and crispy seaweed chips. Ideal accents to the hearty BBQ and spiced appetizers. A wonderful meal. I'd return. Despite their bad rap for poor service (which was proven, despite the total of eight people serving us). Go in good company. Go to get knee deep in it.

lower manhattan cocktail crawl.

Sasha had a few places in mind. The type that are deep in the ground and have seemingly pointless waits for cocktails that take a highly skilled barkeep five minutes to swizzle together...

We started at the Little Branch, an underground that you get to through an unmarked door, down steep steps. It feels as though minimal efforts were put into the decor: items found in second hand stores, dim lights and bartenders with bow ties. A few patrons leaned back in Zoot suits. The West Village venue is owned by the same folks that started the East Side Bar Company, which is clear in the detail and seriousness that goes into crafting their cocktails. I sipped on the Cuban Cocktail No. 3, Vadim salivated over his hot buttered rum, Brad and Sasha each had flips, then some sort of spicy gin mojito each.


The next line we stood in was at Pegu Club on W. Houston in SoHo. We checked our coats and pulled ourselves up the amber lit stairs into a room racketing loud converstation back and forth. I pushed up to the bar counter to order Vadim an Earl Grey Martini and a Pepper Pepper cocktail for myself.

The bartender's face was velvet in concentration and passion as he rhythmically measured each ingredient into the shakers, muddled and shimmied. The Earl Grey Martini frofthy and creamy with raw egg...the Pepper Pepper in a word: divine. Muddled peppers, Herradura tequila, elderflower liquor and a chili pepper floating.


Sasha insisted on the Gin Gin Mojito (gin and ginger made up this tart and spicy drink), Brad continued with his egg based cocktails and order the Earl Grey along side Vadim. At this point in the evening, we decided to forge on to somewhere with lower ticket priced cocktails and some sort of sustinence.


Enroute to Cooper 35, we discovered this moveable statue. Admittedly, Sasha and myself didn't quite have the muscle to move the statue alone. Vadim stepped in. It got to swirling...


At Cooper 35, we somehow negotiated our way past the line (by insisting that we would sit at a table for two, although we were four, and that we would be ordering food in addition to cocktails). I sipped on the offensive Blue Hawaiian (definitely had a stomach ache when I woke in the morning), Sasha the creamy orangecicile, and I'm lost in the rest. I do remember enjoying Beef Negumaki, Black Bean Gyoza and Sasha attempting the Beef Pad Thai.